J 90^

THE STEAMSHIP COLUMBIA IN NEW TOEK BAY.

BENEDICT'S WANDERINGS,

Ireland, Scotland, Italy and Sicily.

With Ji

Llustrations.

By EDWARD W. DAWSON,
AUTHOB OF " THE CASTLE OF THE THREE MYSTERIES," A TRANS
LATION PKOM TfIBi ITALIAN, &C. , &C.

NEW HAVEN:
pEOf^GE H. JllCHMOUD 6^ po., 442 pHAPEL ^TREET.
1878.

Entered acoording to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by
^ ErwARD W. Dawson,
In the offlce of the Librarian of Congress at Wasliingtoii.

Denlson, Qteliell it Biu-ker,
PRINTERS,
New Haven, Conn,

TO
Horace S. Cummestgs, Esq.,
OF WASHINGTON, D. C,
WITH WHOM I CEOSSBD THE ATLANTIC AND ROAMED
THROUGH MANY LAND.S,
—THE BA GHELOR
OF MY
WANDERINGS,—
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED BY HIS SINCERE FEIEND
BENEDICT.

CONTENTS.

PART I.-THE VOYAGE.
CHAPTEB. PAGB.
I. The Start, - 11
II. Our Outfits, - - 14
in. The Leave Takings, - 18
IV. The Sea Sickness, 31
V. The Ship's Officers, 36
VI. Other Voyagers, 31
VII. The D. D.'s, - - 37
VIII. Mother and Daughter, 43
IX. The Christian Sabbath, 48
X. A New Acquaintance, - 54
XI. The Congregation, - - 60
XII. Divine Service, 65
XIII. Amusements, 71
XIV. The Fancy Ball, 76
XV. The Cat-astrophe, 80
XVI. The Storm, 86
XVII. Land, ho ! ' 93
PART II.-IRELAND.
I. Coastwise, - - - 99
n. In Port, . - - 106
in. Adieus, - 113
IV. Incidents, 118
V. UptheFoyle, . 121
VL The Walled City, 139
VIL The Excursion, 186
Vin. Lough Erne, - 143
IX. The Round Tower, . 149

4 CONTENTS.
CHAPTER. PAGB.
X. Strategy, 156
XI. Man Proposes, 163
XII. St. Patrick's City, - 168
XIIL Brien the Brave, 172
XTV. The New City, - 178
XV. Town and Country, 185
XVI. St. Patrick's Home, 191
XVIL The Irish Wake, - 197
XVIII. The Castles of Ardglass, 203
XIX. The Blarney Stone, 308
XX. The Antiquary, 316
XXI. Antiquities, . 334
XXII. The Giant's Causeway, - . 333
XXIIL Adieu to Erin, . 333
PART III.-SCOTLAND.
I. Across the Channel, . 343
II. The Old Boy, 246
III. Observations - 3gQ
IV. The Estuary, 354
V. The Artificial River, 3gg
VI. The Customs, ggg
VII. Other Customs, ... 3gg
VIII. Auld Acquaintance, - - 31^2
IX. St. Mungo's.Town, - 276
X. Other Objects, ^ 284
XI. The Monuments, , 3gg
XII. The Way to Ayr, ' 295
XIIL The Land of Burns,
XIV. The Drive,
XV. The Poet's Grave,
XVI. Surprises, gqo
XVIL Among the Isles, goQ
Xviii. Human and Divine, 334
XIX. The Wedding Party, 340
XX. In Mine Inn, 34~
. XXI. Not at Home, 3go
XXIL The Modern Athens, . 355
^XIIL The Old Town, 3g3

301
309315

CONTENTS. , 5
CHAPTER. PAGE .
XXrV. At Dalkeith, 371
XXV. Farewell to Scotia, 379
PART IV.-ITALY.
I. Wind and Water. 389
II. During the Delay, 397
ni. Laid Up, 403
IV. Improvements, - 409
V. Indulgences 414
VI. Friends, Old and New, 431
VII. Espionage, 437
VTil. NioeDays, 431
IX. The Corso, ' 437
X. Away from Danger, 443
XI. The Old Capital, 447
XIL Half the Kingdom, 454
XIII. The Other Half, 458
XIV. Queen of the Adriatic, 465
XV. From the Sea, 472
XVL To the Sea, 476
XVII. Leghorn Ladies, 483
xvin. An Adventure, 487
XIX. A Dinner Party, 493
XX. Another Adventure, 500
XXI. Neapolis, 506
XXII. Things Seen and Unseen, 515
XXm. Curious Caves, 530
XXEV. Among the Ruins, 526
PART V.-SICILY.
I. St. Rosalie's City, 535
n. Old Zancle, 541
III. The City of Lava, 545
rv. Fallen Greatness, 553
V. The Retum, 557

ILLUSTRATIONS.

STEAMSHIP COLUMBIA,
LONDONDERRY, 128
GATE OF LONDONDBRET, 130
TULLT CASTLE, 145
THB RUINS OF DE-VENISH ISLAND, 151
CITT OF BELFAST, 179
THB CORONATION CHAIR, 189
THB BLOODT HAND, 192
HILL OF TARA. 194
THE IRISH WAKB, 198
KING'S CASTLE, - . 20
ROCK OF CASHEL, 210
BLARNEY CASTLE, 214
CARRICKFERGUS, 220
CARRICKFERGUS CASTLE, 221
THE HOLESTONE, 228
ABBEY OF BONA MARGA, - 230
DUNLUCE CASTLE, 233
THB GIANT'S CAUSEWAY, 235
DUMBARTON CASTLE, 257
GLASGOW CATHEDRAL, 280
GLASGOW NECROPOLIS, 282
BIRTH-PLACE OP BURNS, , . 304
BUKNS' MONUMENT, - 306
THB FARM OF ELLISLAND, 318
BURNS' MAUSOLEUM, 320
CABRLAVEROCK CASTLE, 321
RUINS OP lONA, 335
FINGAL'S CAVE, . 338
GLENCOB, 341
LOCH LOMOND, 349
BOTHWELL CASTLE, 354
CITY OF EDINBURGH, 359
THB SCOTT MONUMENT, 360
OLD TOWN OF EDINBURGH, .364

ILLUSTRATIONS.

HOUSE OF JOHN KNOX, - 366
FISHWIVES OF NEWHAVEN, 380
EDUSfBURGH CASTLE, 382
SCOTTISH INSIGNIA OF ROYALTY, 383
PROFESSOR DI LAVARBLLO, -lOS
ANCIENT GENOA - 419
-VIEW OP THE MEDITERRANEAN, 433
CITY OP MILAN, - 4*8
CATHEDRAL OF MILAN, - 451
AMPHITHEATRE AT VERONA, 459
A CANAL AT VENICE, 466
VENICE BY MOONLIGHT, 471
GREAT SQUARE IN PISA, 479
THE LETTER WRITER, 490
MONK AND MAID, 491
OLD GATE OF GENOA, 495
CIGAR STUMP HUNTER, 498
BAY OP NAPLES, B. C, 508
LOVE MAKING, 510
THE PICKPOCKETS, 511
CARD PLAYERS, ' 511
CAKE PEDLAR, 512
WINE MERCHANT, 513
MACARONI, 514
ITALIANS PLAYING MORA, 522
SOLPATEHRA, 524
A STREET IN POMPEII, 528
AMPHITHEATRE AT POMPEH, - 530
PLAN OP THE EXCAVATIONS OP POMPEH, 531
CLOISTER AT MONREALE, 539
STROMBOLI, 642
PRIEST AND HOUSE-WIFE, 543
CRATER OF .ffiTNA, 546
MARRIAGE IN SICILY, 550
MAT PEDLARS, 554
BASKET MERCHANT, - 555
SPANIARDS, 560
GIBRALTAR, 562
FORTIFIED PASSAGES OP GIBRALTAR, 664

PART I.

CHAPTEE I.

THE START.

|E, that is, Bachelor and Benedict, (I, the
-writer, being Benedict,) moved by an irre-
^WS^ sistable desire to know something personally
concerning distant countries and their inhabitants,
determined to gratify, in a measure at least, our laud
able curiosity. With this end in view, and not par
ticular whither we went, but with a preference for the
British Isles and the coast countries of the Mediter
ranean, we took our departure from the celebrated
university town of New Haven, at 9 :45 A. M., Friday,
September 23d, 187-. it was nearly four hours later
when we reached New York, yet with the impatience
peculiar to the American character, we at once pro
ceeded to make arrangements for the voyage. The
steamship Columbia was to sail on the foUowing day,
and we decided to secure passage in her, Londonderry
and Grlasgow, to which she was destined, suiting our
inclination.

12 benedict's wanderings.
Tbe next thing, as we conceived, was the conver
sion of our checks, drafts and greenbacks into English
and French gold. Novices in this kind of business,
with slight knowledge of the mysteries of money as
daily developed in the narrow street under the shadow
of old Trinity, we experienced no little difficulty. It
was here and there, hither and thither, up and down
and across, questions and answers and directions, haste
and hurry, jostle and dodge, rumble and rattle and
racket, and all ending in the discovery that, at three
of the clock in the afternoon, iinancial business in the
little Lombard of America is at an end. At a later
hour we returned to our hotel, tired out with fruitless
exertion, but in no wise discouraged. Although our
object had not been effected, we had at least found
out, at the very last moment however, just when and
where and how the thing must be accomplished.
The following morning, not at a very early hour I
must admit, we awoke refreshed by the favors of
Morpheus, not Bacchus — marlt well the distinction !
— and after breakfast repaired to the house of
Messrs. D. W. L. & Co., where we committed our
selves to the care of a friend, who was in more respects
than name a Darling. Through the magic of his
presence, or the potency of his will, or a profound
knowledge of the mysteries of that great monied mart
our paper was quickly converted into solid yellow

¥HE StAR*. 13
gold, such as gladdens the eyes of the publicans and
sinners of the old world.
"Are you now provided with everything ?" in
quired our friend Darling, with seemly solicitude.
"Well, we hardly know," was the reply.
" You should be amply prepared for every possible
emergency," he suggested.
Bachelor and I exchanged glances, and each in
dulged in a smile, at the expense of the other as he
supposed.

CHAPTEE IL

OUR OUTFITS.

^™ftOE my own part I was satisfied, but I had
^^ $1 some misgivings as to the provision of my
g^J traveling companion. I had been supplied
with an outfit from home, and of clothing alone there
was sufficient, it seemed to me, to afford the heathen
of Africa a red flannel shirt and dress suit throughout.
Whereas the trosseau of my companion, besides what
he had on, consisted of little more than an extra paper
collar and a tooth brush ; and he expected to be absent
from home a year ! " Slim wardrobe," did some one
remark ? Nay ; wise provision for a year's travel,
considering that all things were essentially cheaper on
the other side of the Atlantic, and that Bachelor's
pocket contained, beside his glittering gold, paper
good for hundreds of pounds in London.
But, you know, (at least, if you are married, you
know,) that Benedict cannot emulate the wise exam
ple of Bachelor, Wife insists that he shall have

OUE OUTFITS. 15
trunks, and hat-boxes, and umbrellas, and wraps, and
a medicine chest ; insists, too, that his trunks shall
contain clothing (amount above specified), and that
the chest shall be well stored with simples, such as
epsom salts, paregoric, camphor, sugar-coated pills,
lint, plasters, and other things of like character too
numerous to mention, — and no brandy.
I thought of all these things and was self-satisfied,
perhaps with a little reservation as to the article last
mentioned. But having unlimited faith in our friend
Darling — who, in times past, had gone down in ships
to the sea, and ought to know, and did know, just
what we should need — I took from my pocket-book a
narrow slip of paper, containing, in wife's pinched pen
manship, all the articles of my outfit, and handed it
to him for his inspection.
Darling took the paper and examined it carefully,
item by item, muttering to himself, ever and anon, as
his eye went down the list, " Of course ! of course !"
He might as well have said, for he meant the same
thing, and I understood it, "Alas, poor Benedict !"
It was plain without words, that he was better
pleased with the outfit of my companion, though he
bestowed upon me, as he returned the list, a look of
commiseration, as much as to say, "It is his duty —
he is Benedict."
^^M-uMum in parvo" — ^by whioh he meant much in a

16 benedict's WANDERINGS.
little compass—" is the motto of the true traveler,"
said our. friend Darling. " But there are certain
things," he added, with an indescribable expression,
" which can not be safely omitted by auy man, unless
his stomach be copper-lined and his body iron-
bound." " We are in your hands, to be dealt with as you
think best,'" said Bachelor, resignedly.
I was silent, but ready to submit, as becomes a
minority. With a pencil Darling scrawled on a scrap of paper
several words which — to me, standing directly in front
of him, and seen upside down — ^looked like, Egyptian
hieroglyphics, and handed the paper to Bachelor.
"All right," said my companion.
It is a fundamental principle of my creed, in trav
eling as well as in politics, that the majority should
rule ; so, I submitted quietly without knowing
whether I approved or disapproved. But a little
later, when I saw these mysterious hieroglyphics con
verted into boxes and bundles, and into shapes resem
bling bottles of vari(jiis sizes and patterns, I ventured
to remonstrate, mildly as was befitting a minority.
"All these things are indispensable," said Darling,
" and most of all the shape ; there are some things
that must roll when the ship rolls, or they will lose
their contents. Appropos, the stomach."

OUR OUTFITS. 17
Assured, besides, that the contents of these bottle-
shaped packages, mingled with a little lemon juice
and sugar, are a perfect panacea for all the ills to
which human flesh is heir at sea, I refrained from
further remonstrance and allowed every thing of a
hieroglyphic character to be stowed handy for use in
our state-room.
Our friend Darling — our Darling friend — said he
would, see as safely aboard and fairly started on our
voyage, for which we were truly grateful, as well in
heart as speech. He could do no more, and if every
other would do as much — contribute his mite — how
immeasurably would it enhance the happiness of
mankind.

CHAPTEE III.

THE LEAVE-TAKINGS.

iHEEE was nothing unusual in the departure of
^ the vessel on this occasion. It occurred when the
!^w^sun was at its meridian height — " high twelve "
— a golden sun in an unclouded sky, giving promise
of fair weather for a little time, if not for the voyage.
Darling was engaged at the moment, recounting
one of his salt-water experiences for our benefit. As
a story-teller he was unusually felicitous, and he gave
himself up to the narration of the anecdote, as if
there was nothing else to be thought of in the world.
Yet he was not unmindful of his situation ; and even '
had he been, the vigorous ringing of the steamer's
great bell would have brought the fact strikingly to
his remembrance. The ringing was accompanied by
the stentorian voice of a burly tar, who suggested to
all persons not desirous of making the voyage, the
propriety of immediately leaving the ship.
The leave-takings were as various in their character

THE LEAVE-TAKINGS. 19
as the people who were about to separate, for a time
or forever. Some of the passengers were in cheerful
spirits, and some were in tears, and some were indif-^
ferent, though of the last there was not a great num
ber. Here and there was one alone, or a cou,ple by
themselves, who had no friend present to bid them
good-bye — God be with you !
The last stroke of the bell ha-ving sounded, the
voice of the tar became silent, and the sailors arranged
themselves at the plank and hawsers, to wait the
word of command. A rush to the shore ensuing,
many were jostled in their hurry, and one or two nar
rowly escaped a headlong plunge into the water.
Darling lingered to the last, and bade us an affection
ate farewell, -with good wishes for a prosperous passage
and a safe return to our friends and homes.
As he went down from the vessel, I repeated the
old adage, "A friend in need is a friend indeed."
" Yes," added Bachelor, " and a better than he
there is not in the wide, wide world."
" I wish he could bear us company," I remarked.
"I have -wished it a hundred times," he replied.
The gang-plank was drawn aboard, the hawsers
loosened, the steam let on, and the great ship, slowly
and silently, but majestically, moved away toward the
mighty main. The friends of those on board lingered
at the wharf, reluctant to leave so long as the vessel

20 benedict's -WANDERINGS.
remained in sight. Some, while yet in speaking dis
tance, repeated their well-wishes, and others their
most important messages ; and when their voices
failed, waved their hats and handkerchiefs as long as
they could be seen from the vessel.
Near the edge of the pier, a little apart, that he
might be distinctly seen and easily distinguished, our
faithful friend cheered us on our "winding way,"
with signs as sweet to the sight as were his words on
board to the ear at separation. Indeed, he was a
Darling ! God bless him !

CHAPTEE IV.

THE SEA-SICKNESS.

lOWN the harbor, into the bay, through the
Narrows, past Sandy Hook, and out upon the
broad Atlantic, the gallant old ship " walked
the waters like a thing of life." Meanwhile, there
was manifest among the passengers an exuberance of
spirits such as I have seldom witnessed. But when
they began to feel the swell of the sea, they gradually
lost their interest in objects on the fast receding
shore, and before the land had entirely faded from our
-vision, became absorbed in the welfare of their stom
achs. Of those who an hour before were wholly
unmindful of such a receptacle, many were now pain
fully conscious of its existence ; and of those who had
adopted every known precaution, a major portion
hung languidly over the sides of the ship, giving up
to the unsatisfied sea the little they had taken in to
break the fast of the previous night.
It was a scene of general discomfort, and even those
who still held their own against the rolling sea,

22 benedict's wanderings.
though they escaped the suffering, shared in the so
licitude. I was of the latter, and for once in my life
rejoiced that 1 was of the minority, even though so
small it could be counted on the fingers of one hand.
Of course I was thankful that I had not a squeamish
stomach, and still more thankful that I had escaped
the sickness of the sea.
To teU the whole truth — which is my habit ; I
never like to keep any thing back — I was not only
thankful, but actually proud of the power I possessed
over thei safety-valves of my stomach. All my friends
at home had predicted that I, whoever else might
e::<;ape, would become sick the moment the ship
touched the billows.
I have not said, as I should have done at the outset ,
that I was an invalid traveling for the benefit of my
impaired health. My physician thought a sea voyage
would do more toward my restoration than his most
potent potions, and I was not loth to make the change,
even at the risk of sea-sickness.
It was thought — by my friends, not my physician —
that I, in my convalescent condition, would be spe
cially susceptible. But how little we know of some
things ! how incapable of truthful conjecture ! It was
to that very circumstance I was indebted for my tri
umph. And now I am prepared to conscienciously
recompaend all persons going to sea, to resort the day

THE SEA-SICKNESS. 23
before to ipecac or lobelia, and have done -with sea
sickness before they venture on the ocean.
At this particular juncture, the person to me of
first importance, and in whose welfare I felt the live
liest interest, was my state-room companion — Bach
elor. We had known each other for a long while — I
know not how long, years and years — and we liked
each other as much perhaps as men ever do, David
and Jonathan excepted.
Here a word by way of digression and commentary.
Is not the assertion that the love of these two young
Israelites exceeded the love of women, an eliptical
phrase, which should be completed by the words, —
for each other ?
Bachelor was a gay good follow ; in youthful circles
of his own sex, he was sometimes jolly ; all unmarried
men are apt to be — an argument in favor of celibacy.
Not my argument, however, for being a Benedict, it
is my duty, whatever may be my inclination or expe
rience, to zealously maintain the morality of matri
mony, and — being neither Turk nor Mormon, but a
Christian — the monotony of monogomy.
Yet there are tiines — in the interests of truth I am
compelled to say it — when a Bachelor is better than a
Benedict ; at sea, for instance, when one is without a
companion. And here let me insert a bit of advice
for my relatives, the Benedicts, founded upon expe-

24 benedict's WANDERINGS.
rience, that dear school in which Franklin says fools
are educated. If any one of them shall ever follow
my example and go abroad without his wife, let
him select — whatever else he may do or not do — a
Bachelor for his companion at sea.
It is something, at any time, to have a compatriot
who is a gay good fellow, capable of becoming jolly on
occasion ; at sea, it is of the utmost importance. If
he have other good qualities, so much the better ;
mine had, and I liked him for them as well as for his
exhaustless humor and merriment.
My Bachelor was decidedly clever in conversation,
and what is even a rarer phenomenon, a good listener.
Withal, he was a philosopher, not profound perhaps,
but peculiarly practical. These things I must say in
his behalf, even though he deserted me, on more than
one occasion, for a flaunting bit of calico.
It is not, however, because I object to his preference
that I allude to the fact ; at his age, I should prob
ably have done the same thing ; perhaps I should, as
it was, if I had been a Bachelor. I refer to the fact
here, as I shall be obliged to mention it hereafter,
when I come to recount some of his adventures and
my own mtss-adventures.
While I performed a few kind offices for my suffer
ing fellow-passengers. Bachelor quietly withdrew
unnoticed. I missed him presently, and feared that

THE SBA-SXCKNEBS. 25
he too had fallen a victim to nausea. But after a
search in other parts of the vessel, I found him in a
cosy seat behind the wheel-house, — 0 had that seat a
tongue, what a tale it might unfold ! — surreptitiously
smoking a pressed Cubanio.
" Sick, Bach ?" I enquired, before observing the
smoke. "No," he replied, blowing his cloud away to win-
ward, " but I'm as hungry as a wolf"
At that moment a tinkling sound reached our ears
from the distance — ting-a-ling ! ting-a-ling ! ting-a-
ling !
" Good !" he exclaimed, springing to his feet and
casting overboard the half-consumed cigar. Then
slipping his arm through mine, he repeated, .as we
walked away, a line from the Hells of Poe :
" What a world of merriment their melody foretells."

CHAPTEE V.

THE SHIP'S OFFICERS.

b)T first, on going aboard the ship, I felt as
though I had entered a preliminary gather
ing at a council of war or grand review. Offi
cers, in showy uniforms, were to be seen in every part
of the vessel, moving about, not with the " pomp and
circumstance of war" it is true, but obviously con
scious of their authority and importance. For a time
I did not venture to address any of them by a title
less than Captain, lest I should underrate his rank
and give offence. But T very soon made myself
" master of the situation," by careful observation and
a few timely inquiries, and after that was not
troubled by any embarrassment.
I went to lunch with Bachelor. I have the undis
puted authority of my nlma mater for the assertion,
that I was always prompt at meal time, and
never deficient in appetite. On this occasion, being
among strangers, I did what was in my power to sus-

THE ship's officers. 27
tain my early reputation. Indeed, I have reason to
believe that the officers, four of whom were at the
table, were unanimous in the opinion that I foUowed
strictly that excellent precept of Paul — "Eat what
ever is set before you, asking no questions for con
science' sake." The purser, of whom I shall say more
hereafter, regarded me with admiration ; and Donald
Dinnie — the champion athlete of Scotland, a passen
ger who occupied a seat opposite me — looked on with
amazement and apprehension.
Be it remembered, however — I say this in my own
vi'ndication, lest there be those who do not fully appre
ciate that a good appetite is among the greatest bless
ings in this life — I was in that peculiar state of con
valescence, when the chief desire is to restore, in the
shortest possible time, the woeful waste of protracted
sickness. The lunch was agreeable, not merely because it
afforded an opportunity to appease my convalescent
hunger, but especially as it enabled me to scrutinize
more closely some of the ship's officers.
The captain sat at the head of one table, and at
the opposite end the first or executive officer. At the
head of the other table was the doctor, or, more
strictly speaking, the surgeon of the ship, and at the
foot of this table was the purser.
Passing by my first impressions, I found the cap-

28 benedict's wanderings.
tain, on better acquaintance, a most excellent gentle
man, courteous and considerate in his deportment,
mild but firm in the exercise ofhis authority. Withal,
he was a man of piety, a strict observer of the moral
law, and a stickler for social propriety. At the table
he invoked a blessing on the good things "spread out
before us," with commendable earnestness, though I
must confess, at the expense sometimes of my pa
tience. On board the ship he tolerated no profan
ity, and in this he had my unqualified approbation ;
for, " Of all the noxious, complicated crimes, *
That both infest and stigmatize the times,
There's none that can with impious oaths compare.
Where vice and folly have an equal share."
One of his friends, -with whom I became acquainted
afterwards, remarked to me facetiously, "His name is
Small, but that is the only thing about him that is
not colossal ; his heart, like the Irishman's, is as big
as a teakettle."
The liveliest man at the table was the doctor. His
presence was sunshine, even in the chamber of sick
ness. He was the life of the vessel, and of the
voyage. It was said — in whispers, of course — that he
was betrothed to the captain's daughter. Miss Debbie
Small, of whom I shall have something to say before
we reach Ireland. Whether or not engaged, he was
most unquestionably enamored.

THE Sfllp'S OFFICERS. 29
The man of finance, an important officer on a pas
senger ship, was a noticeable character. Having
nothing to do after the departure of the vessel, he
devoted himself to the worship, alternately, of Epicu
rus and Morpheus. From berth to board and from
board to berth, his movement, like the flight of the
bee, was on the shortest line between the two" impor
tant points. But if by any happy chance he could
be diverted from his course on the way to berth, — on
the way to board it was impossible, — he invariably
became the life of the social circle. Having the
tongue of Hermes and the toes of Terpsichore, his
worship was ever acceptable at the shrine of female
divinity. When I saw him first, I mistook him for the cap
tain, judging by his rotundity. To make certain, I
asked the second officer.
" The purser," he replied, laconically. Then added,
with a twinkle in his eye, "Don't sit near him at the
table, he is the fearfuUest feeder in the universe."
It occurred to me that the executive officer was
exceedingly well-fitted for his position. He was
short, and strong, and stern, and — I had almost said
— savage. There were those on board who would
have said it, and without hesitation. The only occa
sion during the voyage, at least the only one that
came to my knowledge, upon which he manifested

30 benedict's wanderings.
anything like a cruel disposition, was in the exercise
of discipline, as an example and punishment.
It happened a few days later, "in the course of
human events" on board the ship, and will be noticed
in its proper place. The incident by which it was
provoked — a burnt offering to the Deity of Mischief,
by a reckless young blue-jacket — richly merited some
sort of punishment. But the chastisement inflicted,
owing to its severity, produced a sympathy for the
perpetrator of the deed, and a corresponding prejudice
against the officer by whom it was imposed.

CHAPTEE VII.

OTHER VOYAGERS.
^feHE sea-sickness had affected so many of the
WjJIft passengers, that only a few of them were able
^Min to be present at the lunch table. These, as it
happened, however, were among the persons with
whom I afterwards became acquainted, and some of
whom I now regard as of my best friends over the
wide water. Of course it was not while we sat at the
table that I discovered their good qualities, though
even then I had formed a favorable estimation of
their characters. Whether or not we profess to be
lieve in physiognomy, we are all more or less influ
enced in the opinion we form of an individual, by the
external signs of the countenance.
All the ladies of the saloon occupied seats at the
table over which the captain presided. At his right
hand sat his wife and daughter, who had been on a
voyage to America, and at his left two English ladies,
one the wife of the governor of New Zealand, and the

32 benedict's wanderings.
other her social and traveling companion. Next to
Miss Small sat the Count and Countess di LavareUo,
of the Italian nobility, and opposite them John Mar
shaU and wife, ofthe English middle classes. Beside
these, there were but two other persons at the table, a
clerical gentleman, the Eev. Dr. Theopholis Gabler
(accent on the Ga), who eat a Httle further down,
leaving room for his wife and daughter when they
had recovered from their sea-sickness ; and nearly
opposite him an elderly Irish lady, Mrs. Barrington,
who resided in Belfast, and belonged to one of the
numerous Presbyterian churches of that prosperous
commercial city.
Acting upon the advice of the second officer, not to
sit near the purser, I waited until that individual had
seated himself at the foot of the table ; then following
my inclination, for I had already discovered that the
surgeon was the cheeriest man among the officers, I
established myself in his immediate vicinity. Di
rectly opposite to me sat Donald Dinnie, who, for the
same reasons, had exercised a like precaution. He,
too, had received a hint from the second officer, who,
as I found out afterwards, was a "cannie Scotchman,"
and a fast friend of his famous countryman.
It was unfortunate for both of us, as it came to
pass afterwards ; for Dinnie, — excepting myself, out of
respect for present company,— was the greatest de-

OTHER VOYAGERS. 33
vourer of " the good things of this life," (after the
purser, of course,) that ever occupied a seat at the
table of the Columbia. Following the first two meals,
(lunch and binner,) in both of which I came off vic
torious, — I have already said that Dinnie looked on at
the former -with amazement and apprehension, — there
was a tri-daily strife between us, of a most extraor
dinary character.
Physically we were almost the antipodes of each
other ; he had barely escaped being a giant, while I
was a man of medium size, reduced by sickness to a
skeleton, and when compared with him little more
than a pigmy. But my herculean competitor,
though he looked down at my baggy breeches with
something Uke contempt, very soon discovered that a
man who has bones to clothe with flesh and an appe
tite to assist him, is not to be despised at the table,
at least for lack of capacity.
At our table, below Dinnie on one side and Bach
elor (who sat next to me) on the other, were four or
five gentlemen of ordinary presence, who proved vrpon
acquaintance to be but ordinary personages. There
was yet another, who occupied a seat near the foot of
the table, a mere youth in appearance, very pale and
attenuated, with a clear cut visage of the Grecian
type, and bright black eyes that flashed with intelli
gence. I think my attention was more particularly

34 benedict's wanderings.
drawn to him on account of his proximity to the
purser ; I could not but pity any one who was obUged
to sit throughout the voyage, at the elbow of that
great gormandizer.
By the time dinner was ready, many of the other
passengers had partially recovered from their sickness,
and the number of persons at table was greatly aug
mented, every one not too sick having come forth to
replenish. Of the increase at our table there was not
one deserving of particular mention ; they were all
prudent people, and with one or two exceptions,
Scotchmen. At the other table, however, there were
four or five upon whom I must here bestow a passing
notice, though I shall have occasion hereafter to men
tion two or three of them under other and very dif
ferent circumstances.
By the side of Dr. Gabler, a tall, spare gentleman,
sat Mrs. Gabler, a tall, spare lady, and Miss Gabler,
a tall, spare girl, whose name was Arabella. I was
sorry that at least one of them was not short, plump
and musculous ; the mother, for instance, — " fat, fair
and forty ;" it would have been such a relief to the
monotony. And then, (but this I say by way of pa
renthesis, that it may not reach the ears of my wife •
in matters of this kind I am consciencious, Uke all
true Benedicts), it would have enabled me to catch
an occasional gUmpse of the roseate counteiiance of as

OTHER VOYAGERS. 35
pretty a little widow as ever passed from black to
purple, from sorrow to smiles, from sadness to side
long scintillations.
Next to the woman in weeds, by the side of a "fine
ould Irish gintleman," sat the niece of another " fine
ould Irish gintleman," who resided in Londonderry —
a fair-haired girl, or as he called her, a " Colleen
bawn," — a blonde of the Irish type, and in both face
and form a beauty. She was a young lady of very
prepossessing appearance, and a most charming person
upon acquaintance. Her education, excellent in
other respects, included music, vocal and instrumen
tal, and a fair knowledge of three or four modern
languages, of which she spoke French with the great
est fluency. Having lost her parents in America,
she was returning to Ireland, in the care of the old
gentleman at her side, to reside with her uncle and
become his adopted daughter.
The "fine ould Irish gintleman" at the table — of
the other I shaU have something to say when we
reach Ireland — was a man Jof sixty summers, of a
rather portly person, a genial countenance, a jovial
disposition, and a wonderful capacity of imbibition.
Our acquaintance came about in rather a novel man
ner, but through the same means soon ripened into
friendship. I was making my daily morning observa
tions of the sun, through the obscuration of a Bourbon

36 benedict's WANDERINGS.
bottle, when he came suddenly upon me, and — paused.
There never was a finer morning to observe the great
center of our solar system, and I asked Mr. O'Neil,
for that was his name, if he would like to look
through the instrument. Not having enjoyed a tel
escopic view of the sun since he came to sea, he was
delighted -with the opportunity ; and this I will say
in his praise, that I never met an astronomer who
could look longer and steadier at the great luminary
without winking.

CHAPTEE VIII.

THE D. D.'S.

^

It is not because of any special admiration for
D — D — , the Scotchman, or D. D., the cler
gyman, that I have honored them with the
first appearance before the reader, even to the exclu
sion of the ladies, some of whom I admired for their
beauty, esteemed for their wit and worth, and still
remember for their kindness and condescension. The
Scotchman occupied a seat immediately in front of
mine, and being covered with a great variety of med
als, bestowed by numerous associations for his excel
lence in physical achievements, first arrested my
attention. Indeed, while the lunch lasted, I was
obliged to keep him in my eye, — ^figuratively, of
course, — in order that he might not gobble up every
good thing within his enormous reach.
Perhaps I may be excused on another ground.
Dinnie was the great man of the voyage — great in
more respects than appetite. He was great in size
and stature, being six feet and six in his stockings,

.38 benedict's wanderings.
and in weight three hundred and twenty-five pounds ;
great in public notoriety, having achieved a thousand
triumphs and received a thousand testimonials ; and
great — in his own estimation. When tricked out in
his showy toggery, and covered with his many medals,
bearing curious devices, he regarded himself as enti
tled to universal precedance. He prided himself
upon his gallantries, looked upon every woman as his
natural prey, and whenever opportunity offered,
made love, after his own fashion, to anything clad in
a petticoat. He strutted about the saloon and deck
of the ship, with an air of confidence that implied —
' ' 1 am monarch of all I survey,
My right there is none to dispute."
Yet there was one on board who felt that it was
his duty to dispute some of the rights he endeavored
to arrogate to himself, and some of the privileges
which he ventured to exercise — the Eev. Dr. Ga
bler. This gentleman was outspoken and severe in
the censures he pronounced, whenever occasion re
quired, upon Dinnie and his doings. He was a New
England clergyman, who had been trained after the
"most straitest sext" of the Pharisee (the Puritan)
and looked upon a man who went about the worid
contending for public prizes, as Uttle better than an
ambulatory agent of the Devil.

THE D. D.'s. 39
On the other hand, Dinnie was down on the di
vine, whom he spoke of ironically as " The holy man,"
"The man of God," and "The Lord's annointed," and
sometimes, when satirically disposed, as " The white
neck-cloth !" He always addressed him with mock
deference, using the form " Your Eeverence," and
pronounced his name, in his broad Scotch accent,
" Dr. The-awfulest Gobbler !"
The enmity of these men came about in this wise.
There was among the passengers of the second cabin,
a girl of Inverness, Mary McGill, who was on her way
back, as she said, to the home of her childhood. She
was perhaps two or three and twenty years of age,
though she was four or five years younger in appear
ance. Her complexion was fair, with mottled tints of
pink and white ; her eyes, of a hazel hue, were large
and lustrous, and singularly attractive ; and her hair,
in long luxuriant light-brown curls, hung down in
rich profusion upon her snowy neck and shoulders.
The passengers called her " the ship's beauty."
The vessel was hardly clear of her moorings, when
the quick eye of Dinnie descried the damsel. " A
bonnie lassie !" he exclaimed. In the next minute he
was by her side, asking to be allowed the honor as a
countryman, to point out to her the beauties of the
bay. The name and fame of the renowned athlete
were not unknown to her, though it was the first

40 benedict's WANDERINGS.
time she had looked upon his comely countenance and
portly person. With an inquiring glance at a mid
dle-aged woman, who was also a native of Inverness,
and an early friend of her mother, she accepted his
proffered services.
As the ship moved down the bay, the different ob
jects of interest were pointed out by Dinnie — first the
adjacent cities, Brooklyn, New Brighton, Jersey and
Hudson ; then the islands. Governor's and Bedloe's,
and EUis', where the pirates were executed ; after
wards Fort Hamilton with her immense guns, and the
ruins of Fort La Fayette, in which political prisoners
were confined during the Eebellion ; and the Nar
rows, Sandy Hook, and the light-house — and Mary
and her mother's friend listened with attention. But
soon after they had passed the point last mentioned,
the friend was taken sick and went belo-w, leaving
Mary with the giant, who forthwith began to fill her
ears with all sorts of fulsome flatteries.
It was at that moment the Eev. Dr. Gabler passed
near where they were standing. Something said by
Dinnie reached his ear, and he listened to the words
tliat followed. Then turning suddenly he addressed
the young wopian — " Mary McGill ?"
On hearing her name pronounced by a stranger the
girl started, and the faint crimson which the words of
Dinnie had brought to her cheeks, was greatly height-

THE D. D.'s. 41
ened by the consciousness that they had been over
heard. Said the clergyman, with emphasis on the first
clause, " The woman in whose care you are traveling,
is very sick below, and requires your immediate at
tention." The young woman thanked him, and hurried away,
glad of the opportunity to conceal her blushes, if not
to escape the fearful fascinations of her crafty coun
tryman. Dinnie had marked the emphasis, and compre
hended its significance. He was greatly enraged, and
characterized the interference of the clergyman as a
piece of " damned impertinence."
In turn, the divine denounced him on the spot, as
a man full of guile and iniquity, unfit for the society
of decent people, and deserving of ignominious pun
ishment. From this time forward, throughout the voyage,
these men kept up a constant warfare. Each endeav
ored to thwart whatever the other sought to accom
plish ; though I think the Scot, if the Yankee had
left him to his own devices, would gladly have given
up the contest. Indeed, he could well afford to, for
in all their conversations, which during the first three
or four days were quite frequent, he could not escape
the conclusion that, whatever might be the value of

42 benedict's WANDERINGS.
muscle in other respects, it was of Uttle use in a war
of words, where one of the disputants was a man of ed
ucation, trained in the subtleties of satire and sarcasm.
There were times when the conversation of these
two contributed to the amusement of the passengers,
and even helped to shorten the tedium of the voyage ;
but there were others when amusement gave place to
apprehension — when Dinnie lost' his temper and
threatened to throw the clergyman overboard.
But the reverened gentleman, however he may have
regarded these threats, was not in the least deterred
from what he conceived to be his duty. He denounced
what he called " the deviltries of Dinnie" in most un
measured terms, and threatened to expose him in the
prints as soon as they reached Scotland. Whether he
ever carried his threat into execution I am unable to
say, as after we parted at Londonderry I saw him no
more in my wanderings.

t^

CHAPTEE VIIL
MOTHER AND DAUGHTER.
HILE we sat at the dinner table, I made a
I few mental notes, to be used afterwards as
^ occasion required. I have seen "many men
of many minds," under many circumstances, and am
a judge of human nature perhaps above the average.
Forming my plans from the little I saw of these
people at the table, I set about making their ac
quaintance as soon as the meal was finished. With
a few letters of introduction, addressed to notable per
sons on the other side of the ocean, I went directly to
Captain Small, who glanced at their contents, and
afterwards looked at photographs of my wife and
children. As I had hoped, these secured me an in
troduction to his wife and daughter, and opened the
way to an acquaintance with all the saloon passengers.
At the time, and indeed ever since, I have regarded
it as a bit of rare good fortune, that I crossed the
Atlantic with Mrs. Small, on her return from Amer
ica. In our country^ h hearty welcome had been

44 benedict's WANDERINGS.
extended to her by the acquaintances of her husband,
and during her visit to some of our principal cities,
every needed attention had been graciously bestowed,
and every possible want cheerfuUy anticipated. She
was returning to her home in Glasgow, thoroughly
satisfied with her travels in the United States, and
with a much better opinion of my countrymen than
she'had ever before entertained.
It was to this fact that I was indebted for much of
the enjoyment I experienced on the voyage. Mrs.
Small was naturally of a benignant disposition, but
the kindness and attention she had so recently re
ceived, inclined her, for the time being at least, to the
¦exercise of a Uttle partiality toward Americans. I
availed myself of the first opportunity to introduce
Bachelor as my friend and companion, and we not
only received a good share of her favor during our
" life on the ocean wave," but afterwards when we
visited Glasgow.
It is proper to say, however, that a portion of our
enjoyment was due to the daughter, a young lady of
about eighteen summers, a perfect blonde, and of
course beautiful. She was tall and graceful, two
things that Bachelor admires in a lady, or did at that
particular time. In conversation she was pleasino-
and attractive, and though not a blue-stocking, intel
ligent on all ordinary topics. It was at the piano

mother and DAUGHTER. 45
however, where she appeared to the best advantage ;
and if some "Music hath charms to soothe a savage,
To rend a rock and split a cabage,"
hers had the power of enchantment over all within
the sound of her touch and trill, and over the hitherto
callous heart of poor Bachelor.
It was in the evening, after supper, that our ac
quaintance commenced. The young lady was sitting
at the piana, when we entered the saloon and were
introduced. I observed that Bachelor was particu
larly struck by her appearance ; but as that was quite
a common occurrence with him, I attached no im
portance to it at the moment. Afterwards, however,
when she had sung and played for us, I changed my
opinion ; by that time it was plain to the most cas
ual observer, that the favorable first impression had
deepened into undisguised admiration.
Of course I then had my misgivings. When an
acquaintance so short, assumes an aspect so serious,
it is noticeable, to say the least, in the case of a light,
loquacious bachelor. A little curious to see how far
the fellow would venture, — not with the girl, but
his own heart, — I engaged the mother in conver
sation about her travels in America. She was a good
talker, and enjoyed the oppottunity ; and for half an
hour or more, entertained me -with a pleasant account

46 benedict's wanderings.
of her observations, impressions and reflections.
Meanwhile, though listening with attention, I man
aged to catch an occasional glimpse of the couple at
the piano. The singing had subsided into silence,
and the playing, soft as the ripple of a rivulet, was
just sufficient to conceal the color of their colloquy
under a murmer of music. And each time as I looked,
the distance between them had perceptibly dimin
ished, until flnally, and just as the narrative was
completed — but I forbear.
It was an unfortunate moment to close a conver
sation, and to prevent a pause, I begged the narrator
to continue. But having said all she intended to on
that occasion, or, as I suspected afterwardS; having
observed the little by-play at the piano, she decUned.
The spell was broken ! the illusion dissipated !
Presto, change ! There was a burst of music, the
invisible fingers of the young lady running up and
down the scale like a flash of lightning ; and at the
end of the piano, endeavoring to read the notes of
Norma, with the page unwittingly upside down, stood
the apparently unconscious Bachelor.
Having thanked the ladies for their delightful en
tertainment, I ran up to the deck to enjoy a turn in
the open air before turning in for the night. My
companion followed, but slowly, and with a heavy
step ; and he was reticent — a bad sign.

mother and daughter. 47
" Bach," said I, after waiting a reasonable time,
"what's the matter T'
" She's a devilish fine girl !" he exclaimed.
" I thought her discreet, rather than devilish," I
returned, playfully.
" Fie ! don't be critical."
Meanwhile we walked up and down the quarter
deck arm in arm. After the last remark there was a
brief silence. It lasted for some minutes, and then
he resumed.
" Ben," said he, " I want your advice about a mat
ter of importance. I was about to ask it to-night,
but you are tired. To-morrow will suffice."
Indeed, I was very tired. The efforts of the day
had proved too much for me in my convalescent con
dition. Having assured him of my readiness to serve
him in the respect desired, I bade him good night and
went to my room, leaving him to enjoy the soft sea
breezes and the stars, and follow at his leisure.
Throwing myself on the bed, I began to think of the
the past and speculate of the future, at first with
some degree of order, but soon fell into reverie, and
then passed away unconsciously into the shadowy re
gion of dreams.

CHAPTEE IX.

THE CHRISTIAN SABBATH.

^§|pT was a deep sleep into which I had fallen.

ill Not a strange sound on the vessel penetrated
^^^ my ear, not an unusual motion disturbed my
rest. I knew not when my room-mate came to his
bed, or when he arose in the morning. Even the
breakfast bell (the only time in my life that I re
member) failed to arouse me. How much longer I
might have slept, or whether I should have awakened
ever, had not Bachelor come to my relief, I can not
conjecture. When I returned to consciousness, he
was shaking me by the shoulders and screaming in my
ears — " Ben, are you going to sleep all day ?"
After breakfast I went up to the quarter deck to
note our progress. Eound about me was a weary
waste of water and a distant horizon, and nothing
else in view, though I strained my eyes in every di
rection. To avoid a dreary sensation which began
to creep over me, I went in search of Bachelor, whom

THE CHRISTIAN SABBATH. 49
I was to find somewhere near the wheel-house. But
I had not proceeded half a dozen paces, when Dr.
Gabler greeted me with a " Good morning," and ex
tended his hand. By some means, I know not how,
he had ascertained my name, as he had that of nearly
every other saloon passenger and many of the second
cabin. Though a stranger to me, I clasped his hand
and returned his salutation.
" It is the Lord's day — a most beautiful day," be
gan the reverend gentleraan. "At home, on such a
day as this, we should all go to church, and praise
His great name, and thank Him for His great good
ness. Is there any reason why we should not worship
Him on board a ship in the midst of the ocean ?"
Innocently I replied, " Indeed, sir, I do not know.
I am not acquainted with the rules of the vessel.
You had better inquire of the captain,"
"I am a minister of the Lord," he continued.
" The injunction, ' Go ye into aU the world and
preach the Gospel to every creature,' laid upon me at
my ordination, I dare not disobey. " I wish to preach
to these people ; is there any objection ?"
"I have already informed you," said I, "that I
am ignorant of the customs of the ship. Any of the
officers can give you the information desired."
" The officers of this vessel are gentlemen — the
captain a Christian gentleman," he continued.

50 benedict's wanderings.
"They are wiUing that I should preach. I have
seen your friend Bachelor, and he approves. The
other passengers approve, except that blasphemous
Scotchman," pointing to Donald Dinnie. "And
now, sir, have you any objection ?"
Here was a poser. At home I was not a very regu
lar attendant upon church services ; indeed, when I
could with any reasonable excuse, I usually remained
away. The very last Sunday I was at home, I had
shirked this duty, and imposed it upon my little
daughter, only six years of age. " Leila," said I, " Pa
pa is a little indisposed" (to attend church) " this
morning, and wishes you to go in his place. Will
you ?" " Yes, Pa-pa, as you winh it," said the little
thing, without hesitation. My conscience smote me,
yet I rejoiced that my daughter, in this respect at
least, was not like her wayward father. When she
was ready to start, I called her and said, " Leila, re
member what the preacher says, so you can tell me
when you get home, and remember particularly what
most interests you." Having in this wise compro
mised with my conscience, I stretched myself upon
a sofa, read a scene or two in The Tempest, and then
dropped to sleep. When I awoke, my litthj daugh
ter was standing before me. " Well, my dear," said
I, " what did the preacher say ?" She repUed frank
ly, and without diffidence : " He said the Lord's

THE CHRISTIAN SABBATH. 51
prayer." " Very well," I replied, though I could
scarcely suppress a smile. " What did he say that
particularly interested you ?" She hung her head on
one side, put her finger to her lip, and answered
a little distrustfully, " He said there wouldn't be
any meeting this afternoon."
Somehow I thought of this little incident, when
the clergyman asked if I had any objection to divine
service on board the ship. After all, the daughter
was not unlike the father in this very particular, and
at once I resolved to set her a better example.
"What objection can I have .5^" said I. "At
home I attend church," — I did, as they used to
say in coUege, semi-occasionally, — " and why not on
the ocean ? I assure you, sir, it will afford me pleas
ure to hear you expound a passage of the Scriptures."
The reverend gentleman regarded me with a most
peculiar expression. He ought to have been de
lighted, and yet he appeared to be disappointed.
Withal, he was confused, and his face flushed to the
very roots of his hair. But presently he recovered
his self-possession, and thanked me cordially for my
acquiescence. " The services," he added, as we were about to
separate, "will be held on the main deck, at ten
o'clock." Having made this announcement, he walked for-

52 benedict's wanderings.
ward to superintend the adjustment of seats for the
ladies, while a group of gentlemen who had witnessed
our interview, indulged in a titter regardless of my
presence. Uncertain whether I was the subject of their
mirth, I turned about unconcernedly and regarded
them with attention. Immediately one of their num
ber advanced, and with a smile said, " Is not your
friend something of a wag ?"
At once I suspected that Bachelor had been brew
ing a mischief of some sort, and that it pertained to
the clergyman and myself What it was, however,
I could not conjecture.
" For an hour past," said the gentleman, " the
parson has been among the passengers, endeavoring
to ascertain how many would join him in divine
service. Your friend assented with alacrity, but took
the reverend gentleman aside, and informed him con
fidentially that you were a most ferocious infidel, and
that unless he could remove your doubts beforehand,
or induce you to remain in your state-room the
while, that the services would be disturbed by open,
defiant contradictions."
Now I discerned the pitfall that had been pre
pared for me, and into whiqh I should surely have
tumbled headlong, had it not been for the incident of
my little daughter — God bless her! Having assured the
group of gentlemen that I was anything in the world

THE CHRISTIAN SABBATH. 53
but an infidel, I related the anecdote which had
saved me from a clash with the clergyman, greatly to
their amusement.
Meanwhile, I glanced up and down the deck in
search of Bachelor ; but he had concealed himself
from view, perhaps in some out-of-the-way place
where he was still watching for the denouement.
So, for the time being, I dismissed the matter from
my mind, with the mental reservation, using an ex
pression common among practical jokers — " I owe
you one !"

CHAPTEE X.

A NEW ACQUAINTANCE.

|iS it was only nine o'clock, an hour before the
time appointed for opening the services, I
^ walked on toward the wheel-house, in search
of Bachelor. But again my progress was interrupted,
this time by the pale young man whom I had ob
served at the table the day before, near the purser.
He advanced and extended his hand and called me
by name just as the clergyman had, and my first im
pression was that he was another of the black-cloth
gentry. At the same time, there was something
familiar in his appearance, though I could not recol
lect that I had ever seen him before ; certainly I had
never met him, or I should have remembered.
"Allow me to introduce myself," he said. "My
name is Smith — John Smith. As it is an odd name
and difficult to remember, perhaps I had better write
it on a card.?"
A facetious fellow, thought I. Well, I like that.

A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 55
Give me a man of humor for a companion. It is bet
ter to laugh than to cry, and he who contributes to
the mirth of mankind, is a public benefactor.
" John Smith !" I replied. " A very odd name,
indeed ; but, pardon me, not at all euphonious.
And yet, ' Wha,t's in a name ! that which we call a rose,
By any other name would smell as sweet.' "
" If you don't like my name," he said, quickly
"I'll change it. My father's was Smith, and my
mother' s was Smith, and at home I could not change
it without a special act of the legislature. But now,
I am on the high seas,
I can do as I please.
Let me see. Musgrave ! Harry Musgrave ! Is that
euphonious .?"
" Quite so,' ' I repUed.
"My name, sir, is Musgrave — Harry Musgrave !"
"Mr. Musgrave," said I, grasping his extended
hand, "I am pleased to make your acquaintance."
" With yours," said he, shaking my hand heartily,
"I am delighted. I like a man of expedients. It
was capital the way you managed that old Gabbler.^'
" Ga-bler,' ' said I, correcting him.
"Yes, yes," said he, with a smile. " That is his
pronunciation. But all who know him call him

56 benedict's wanderings.
Gab-ler. And in the fitness of things his name should
have another 6."
"I might infer from your remark," said I, inter
rogatively, " that you have some kno-wledge of this
man and his character ?^ '
" Yes, I have,' ' he replied. " Years ago my father
was one of his parishioners, and all through my
childhood I enjoyed the transcendent privilege of sit
ting under the droppings of his sanctuary. He is a
very remarkable man, and yet a single verse of
' Poet Burns, Poet Burns, wi' his priest-skelping turns,'
will convey a correct idea of his character. Among
the clergy of Hartford where he ' preaches the Gospel
to every creature' who goes to hear him, he is reck
oned ' A burnin' and a shinin' light
To a' that place.' "
That my new acquaintance was what the distin
guished phonographer. Josh Billings, would call a
" phunny phello," was unmistakably evident in the
first sentence he uttered ; but I now began to fear
that he was incUned to make light of sacred things,
and of that I disapproved. To satisfy myself on this
point, I inquired if he thought the reverend doctor
would be flattered with his eulogy ?
" I do, indeed," he replied ; .but added, in the
the same breath, " though possibly he might prefer a
different phraseology."

A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 57
"Precisely," said I. "A panegyric may be
couched in such terms as to resemble ridicule."
He smiled and was about to reply, comically no
doubt, for there was a merry twinkle in his eye, but
at that moment he observed the subject of our con
versation advancing toward us.
"Please do me the favor," he said, hurriedly,
" to call me John Smith in his presence."
" Does he not know you ?" I inquired.
" 0, no," he replied. " I have grown quite out of
his knowledge. It is well, too, for if he knew me, he
would worry me to death."
To do that, I thought, would require little exer
tion. His white face and wasted form had already
the semblance of death. It seemed to me, who had
just traveled a long way in that direction, that he
was walking on the very verge of the grave.
Divining my though ts, he said, with a sorrowful
accent, " You are right. I am another of those mis
taken mortals who have laid down their precious
lives a sacrifice upon the altar of unhallowed ambi
tion." And then he broke forth into rhapsody —
" 'Oh ! what a noble heart was here undone,
When Science' self destroy'd her favorite son !
Yes ! she too much indulged thy fond pursuit,
She sow'd the seeds, but death has reap'd the fruit.
'Twas thine own genius gave the final blow,
And help'd to plant the wound that laid thee low :

58 benedict's WANDERINGS.
So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain.
No more through rolling clouds to soar again,
Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart.
And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his heart :
Keen were his pangs, but keener tar to feel
He nursed the pinion which iijipcU'd the steel,
While the same plumage that had warm'd his_nest
Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast.'"
" Many a time and oft" had I admired that most
beautiful passage of the " English Bards," but never
before had I heard it so eloquently and pathetically
uttered. After a pause long enough for the tones of his voice
to die away, he resumed. " Do not think me so vain
as to compare myself to ' Unha]ipy White !' And
yet these words, but slightly modified, might become
at once my history and my epitaph."
A little curious to know in what way and for what
odject he had so labored, I ventured to ask at what
institution he had been educated.
"I see," said he ; "you do not remember me.
Well, I do not wonder. I was a robust, ruddy, rol
licking boy when I entered your university."
As I had never known a student of Yale grow pale
and puny under the ordinary study of that institu
tion, I was very greatly surprised at the fact impUed
in his declaration.
" 0 !" said he, " you must not suppose that I was
in that old fociUferous department and confined my-

A NBW ACQUAINTANCE. 59
self to its colonial curriculum. I was in Sheffield,
where men have to labor for what they get, and get
something worth the effort. But at the same «time,
to gain advancement, I also studied a profession ; and
these two together — well, you see the result. My
motto then was — Do or die .'"
"Ifear," said I, "a most unfortunate motto for
you, judging by appearances."
"Yes," saidhe, " unfortunate for any body. But
I have now a better, which I follow strictly under
the advice of my physician. —
«
'As we journey through life,
Let us live by the way ;
The cares of to-morrow,
Let us bury to-day.' "

CHAPTEE XI.

THE CONGREGATION.

FEW minutes before ten. Captain Small con
ducted the clergyman to the main deck, and
i ^ seated him in an arm chair, which was to be the
pulpit for the occasion. He seated himself in another
chair, and took out his chronometer to note the time.
Immediately the audience began to a,ssemble, the first
being his wife and daughter. These were followed
by the wife and daughter of the clergyman, and these
again by the two English ladies. Now I noticed for
the first time, that one of these ladies, the governor's
wife, was totally blind, and that she was led about
the vessel by her companion. I afterwards learned
that the cause of her affliction was cataract, and that
her sight had gone from her graduaUy through a
period of many months. It was not until she found
herself in impenetrable darkness, that she consented to
part from her husband, who could not leave his post
without permission from his government. She was

THE CONGREGATION. 61
now on her way to London, having already crossed
the Pacific ocean and the continent of America, to
place herself under the treatment of some skillful
oculist. The Count and Countess di LavareUo, being devout
Catholics, remained in their state-room during the
services. Indeed the countess, save at the dinner
table the day before, had scarcely been seen after the
ship reached the ocean. She was sick whenever the
vessel was in motion, no length of time at sea ena
bling her to overcome the nausea. As the count spent
the greater part of his time by the side of his afflicted
wife, I saw but little of him until we reached Scot
land, and it was not until then that I made their de
lightful acquaintance.
Presently John Marshall, followed by his wife,
walked forward, and mingled with the congregation.
He was an Episcopalian, but entirely free from the
paltry prejudices which characterize so many mem
bers of the established church of England. He had
resided eighteen years in America, and within that
period had witnessed the worship of many other prot
estant denominations. He had ceased to be a bigot,
and become a man of toleration.
After the Marshalls came the -winsome widow,
whom I had been unable hitherto to see distinctly,
owing to the high heads of the feminine Gablers.

62 benedict's WANDERINGS.
She was clad in purple to indicate that her sorrow was
softening, and she wore the customary cap — that
modest means a woman has of announcing to the world
that she is again in the matrimonial market. The
bloom on her cheeks was like the sunny side of a
peach, and her lips like two ripe cheries. I had a
predilection for widows ; they are
" Courteous though coy, and gentle though retired ;"
and they never die ofa broken heart, even if they
fail to win the one they want. Yet, being a Bene
dict, I should not have dared do more in this instance,
than stand apart and look my appreciation, much as
I adored the beauty of the bereaved one, had not cir
cumstances over which I had no control, thrown me
into her society. But I shall not anticipate.
Of course I did not expect to see O'Neil, the " fine
ould Irish gintleman," and Miss Nora M'Kenna,
the •' colleen bawn" in his charge, among the con
gregation ; for they, Uke the Count and Countess di
LavareUo, were consecrated Catholics. But the
young lady, rather than be singular on such an occa
sion, begged the old gentleman to go upon deck and
sit in the outskirts of the assembly ; and after much
persuasion he yielded, on condition that she would
first allow him to go for five minutes to his state
room, and agree not to speak to him untU the servi
ces were concluded. Nora consented, but was a lit-

THE CONGREGATION. 63
tie apprehensive lest he should return with half a
pint of whiskey under his waistcoat. Much to her
surprise, however, he came back as sober as he went,
and giving her his arm, escorted her to a rearmost
seat in the audience. He sat down by her side, but
throughout the services, looked off upon the sea, with
the most stoUd indifference. Afterwards I found out
that, while in his state-room, he had stuffed his ears
with raw cotton, that he might not hear, as he termed
it, " any of the ould heretic's blasphemy."
Now the other passengers of the saloon went for
ward, one after the other, until all were present save
Donald Dinnie, who stood near the mizzen mast,
with a scowl upon his countenance, looking like a
savage in his heathen habiliments. But when the pas
sengers of the second cabin began to assemble, and he
observed the woman and maid of Inverness, he walked
forward boldly and pushed himself into their pres
ence ; and throughout the ser-sdces that ensued,
availed himself of every opportunity to annoy the
preacher, or to whisper and wheedle "the ship's
beauty." In his conduct on this occasion, there was
something so offensive to the captain, that I feared
lest there might be an outburst, resulting in his un
ceremonious expulsion from the congregation. For
tunately, however, the reverend doctor had the good
sense to ignore his presence, save once near the close

64

BENEDICT S WANDERINGS.

of his discourse, when in a moment of exasperation,
he burst forth in the language of Paul :
" 0 full of all subtlety and all mischief, thou child
of the devil, thou enemy of all righteousness, wilt
thou not cease to pervert the right ways of the
Lord .?"

CHAPTEE XII.

DIVINE SERVICE.

't^

IHEN all the passengers, including those of
the steerage, had assembled on the deck,
""""HB^n together with such of the officers, sailors
and ordinary hands as could be spared from their du
ties. Dr. Gabler saw before him a congregation more
diverse in their creeds and beliefs, in their doubts and
disbeUefs, than any he had ever addressed. At first
he was uncertain how to preach the Gospel to such
a promiscuous assembly ; but after a little reflection,
concluded that it was his duty to commend the good
and condemn the bad, to the end that the first might
be encouraged and the other discouraged. Having
settled this point in his mind, he took up the Bible,
turned over a few leaves, and then read aloud the ac
count of Paul's voyage to Eome. This done, he stood
up and said, " Let us pray."
Thereupon some of the congregation rose to their
feet, others knelt down, and others bowed their heads,
each after the ceremony to which he was accustomed.

66 benedict's wanderings.
The orisons of the doctor were fervent, and fit to the
occasion. He began with thanks for the fair weather
we had enjoyed since we ventured our lives upon the
" vasty deep ;" then prayed that the rest of our voy
age might be equally pleasant and prosperous ; but
if storms should arise, and the ship should be foun
dered, implored the God of Heaven that, Uke the one
in which Paul was wrecked, it might be near the
shore, "that they which could swim might cast
themselves into the sea and get to land ; and the
rest, some on boards, and some on broken pieces of
the ship ; so that it might come to pass that they
escaped all safe to land."
At the conclusion of his prayer, the reverend doc
tor took up a smaller book and said, " Let us praise
the Lord by singing the — "
He stopped suddenly, colored a little, looked at his
wife crossly, and then said, " By some mistake, I am
not provided with a book of hymns. Is there any
any such thing in the congregation .?"
There was silence, then a little sensation among
the beli€vers, and after that a few percep table smiles
on the lips of the unbelievers.
" As there appears to be no such book," said the
doctor, "wUl some brother lead the singing, selecting
words with which we are all familiar .?''
There was a brief pause, and then Musgrave arose

divine service. 67
seemingly paler and feebler than at any time before,
but in a voice as clear and almost as loud as a clarion,
sang to the tune of old Dundee the foUowing words :
" With vast amazement we survey
The wonders of the deep,
Where maciierel swim and porpoise play,
And crabs and lobsters creep. "
The first two lines produced a most favorable im
pression upon the devout listeners ; but the last two,
notwithstanding the superiority of the singing, rather
shocked^ their sense of propriety. Without noticing
the effect, however, Musgrave continued :
"Fish of all kinds inhabit here.
And throng the dark abode.
Here haddock, hake, an^ flounders are,
And eels, and perch, and cod."
At this point the doctor interfered. "As these
words are not familiar to the congregation," he re
marked, "I think we had better omit the singing."
Musgrave bowed assent, and resumed his seat as
unconcernedly as if what he had done was entitled to
the highest praise. Now there was a greater sensa
tion among the professors, and broader smiles upon
the faces of the dissenters ; and the doubts of the doc
tor, as to the tenor of his discourse, were thoroughly
dissipated. Said he : " The words of my text are
the twenty-fourth verse of the twenty-eighth chapter
of the Acts of the Apostles — 'And some believed the

68 benedict's wanderings.
things which were spoken, and some believed not.' "
The doctor divided his subject into two parts, in
one of which he eulogized the righteous, and in the
other portrayed the proscription and punishment of
the wicked. His pictures of Paradise were drawn
from the poetry of Milton, while PoUock furnished
him with a panarama of hell and the damned. It
was a most wonderful discourse !
The sermon finished, another prayer followed, in
which the divine fervently supplicated for the bless
ings of Almighty God upon the reprobates of 'the con
gregation — meaning Dinnie and Musgrave. A true
Christian invocation , for these men merited reproof
for their irreverent behavior, rather than the full for
giveness extended to them by the minister in his
great magnanimity.
The people were about to disperse to their respect
ive places, when the clergyman pressed another mat
ter upon their attention. " My dear hearers," said
he, " when I left home, I charged myself with a spe
cial mission. In the suburbs of lhe city where I re
side, there is a Uttle Christian church, which began a
few months since as a Sunday School, but now gives
promise of great future usefulness. As yet, however,
the good people there are without a house in which
to worship, and I have uiiderlaken, of mv own voli
tion, to raise a fund sufficient for that purpose, before

DIVINE SERVICE. 69
I return to America. It occurred to me at the close
of our exercises, that the present might be a favorable
opportunity to commence. Will some person, well-
disposed toward this enterprise, pass through the
congregation, and gather the contributions ? My
dear friends, in asking you to give to this good work,
I do not expect lavishment, but merely from each
who can afford it, a dollar or two."
Musgrave immediately arose, and with his hat in
hand, presented himself before Captain Small, and
with a most imperturbable countenance, said —
"If you want a good name,
And a well-cushioned pew,
You must freely come down
With a dollar or iwo.
"For tlie Gospel is preached,
For a dollar or two ;
And salvation is reached,
For a dol'.ar or two."
The captain was a little startled by the words of
the young man, but took out his purse and dropped
a coin in the hat. Four or five others followed his
example, and then Musgrave came to Dinnie.
" Aff wi' ye," said the Scotchman. " I shaU gie
ye naething. I dinna care for the priest ; let him
pay his own expenses."
" The priest is provided for," said Musgrave. " It
is the poor people of a parish who crave your pity."

70 benedict's wanderings.
" DeU-ma-care," cried Dinnie. " I hae naething
to gie. Now, goe awa'. "
" Most unfortunate of men," exclaimed Musgrave,
in a solemn voice." The great sin of the times,
And the worst of all crimes,
Is to flnd yourself short
Of a dollar or iwo."
As Musgrave passed through the congregation,
coins in plqnty dropped into the hat, and accumulated
until the crown was covered. At first the doctor was
a little doubtful if it was proper to receive donations
induced by the wit of a wag rather than the impor
tance of the enterprise, but at the sight of the glit
tering gold he managed to overcome his scruples.
He thanked the people for their bountiful gift, and
thanked Musgrave for his assistance, but at the same
time chided him for his levity. To which Musgrave
replied, " Ah, doctor, there is many a truth spoken in
jest."

CHAPTEE XIII.
AMUSEMENTS.
|HEEE were no religious services in the after-
^ noon or evening. Indeed, although we spent
^^» two other Sundays at sea, Dr. Gabler never
proposed another sermon. Musgrave said he had
accomplished his purpose and was satisfled — had
preached at sea, and collected a considerable fund
toward the building of a church ediflce for the wor
ship of a congregation under the pastoral care of a
young Ucenciate, who was in time to marry the ac
complished Arrabella.
In the evening, however, the passengers of the sec
ond cabin assembled again on the main deck, and
held a sacred concert or praise meeting. It was
somewhat promiscuous and unrestrained in its charac
ter, and I was invited to participate. As the singing
was such as I had been accustomed to at home, I
joined in it heartily, and much to my surprise was
complimented. This was the more gratifying to me,
as among those with whom I had spent most of my

72 benedict's wanderings.
Ufe, I had never enjoyed the reputation of being a
superior singer ; from which I infer that my musical
talent must be specially adapted to the sea.
The praise meeting, a great success in its way,
terminated at about eight o'clock. On repairing to
the grand saloon, I found Mrs. Small and daughter,
assisted by several ladies and gentlemen, engaged in
a soiree musicale, or rival concert, but of like charac
ter. My reputation had already preceeded me, and I
was again invited to take part in the performance.
As under the circumstances I could not refuse, I did
my best, and rejoice to say, that the credit I had
gained on deck, was fully endorsed in the saloon.
It was late when we dispersed for the night — a
night such as I never experienced. Though tired, I
could not sleep, at least not soundly ; every effort to
do so was frustrated by the dragging of chains, and
shrinks long and loud, and of a most unearthly char
acter. In my over-wrought imagination and dreams,
I saw all the horrors of the damned, as depicted by
Dr. Gabler in his sermon. In the morning I ascer
tained that, in consequence of a dense fog, it had
been necessary to keep the fog- whistle in operation
all night, and take other active means to secure the
the ship against accident.
The principal incident of the day was the speaking
of the Cunard steamer Scotia, with signal flags, the

AMUSEMENTS. 73
language of which I did not understand. The vessels
were not near enough to converse through trumpets,
or to recognize individuals even through a telescope.
During the day two passengers, who had not paid a
fare, were found on board — two pretty land birds,
blown out to sea by the storm. They came to the
vessel for shelter, and after a time overcoming their
natural timidity, allowed themselves to be captured.
They soon became great favorites with the ladies.
The evening of this day being unpleasant was
spent in the saloon, where the passengers whiled
away the hours to bedtime, with conversation and
conundrums. The latter were suggested by the blind
lady, and participated in by a number of the passen
gers. The best of them are scarcely worth the pre
servation, yet may be repeated as serving to show
how people at sea amuse themselves.
The blind lady led off with the query : " Why is
it no joke when a hen lays an egg ?" I know not
whether it was original with her ; it was the first
time I had heard it. She thought the surgeon ought
to guess it, but he acknowledged his inability.
What he could not do in this instance, the rest did
not attempt. At length the lady was obliged to
answer her own interrogatory : " Because she is in
earnest (in her nest)."
Several indifferent quibbles followed, and then

74 benedict's wanderings.
Musgrave, with a gravity peculiar to himself, in
quired : " Who of all the people on board is the
greatest talker .?" No one doubted but that he had
reference to the ship's surgeon, whose tongue was
never still for a minute at a time between waking
and sleeping ; but the fun, if any, was not discerni
ble. "Is it the doctor .f" queried one. "Yes," re
plied Musgrave, " not the M. D., however, but the
D. D." Now the conceit was clear enough — " The
great Gab-ler."
Not to be outdone in a conundrum of this charac
ter, the blind lady asked permission to propound
another, which she addressed to the captain's daugh
ter : " What is that word of one sylable, which, by
the addition of another sylable, becomes less ?" As
it was addressed to her. Miss Small gave it up with
reluctance ; the rest of us without hesitation. Said
the blind lady, rather gleefully, — she was a cheer
ful person notwithstanding her affiction, — "If you
add a sylable to Small, it becomes Smaller."
Though not ambitious to figure in this species of
-witticism, when it came to be my turn, willing to add
my mite to the evening's entertainment, I proposed :
" If I am not sea-sick, and my room-mate, Bachelor
occupying the berth over mine, begins' to, manifest
unmistakable signs of inward commotion, what shall
1 do with him .?" For a time it was a poser, but

amusements. 75
finally a light like inspiration broke in upon the
brilliant brain of the purser, who, in a rich bass
voice, replied : " Send him to grief, {Grievey — that
being the surgeon' s name.
The surgeoUj a little provoked that the purser
should have guessed it so readily, resolved to have
revenge. " What officer of this ship," said he, "is
like Judas Iscarriot .?" "In what respect.?" in
quired one. " In any respect." No one could an
swer. " The purser," said the surgeon. " I don't see
it .?" said the blind lady. " He carries the bag!''
When it came his turn, Bachelor reflected for a
moment, and then said, very gravely : " Why is an
elephant like an oyster.?" Even the purser was
obliged to admit his inability to discern any resem
blance. " Because," said Bachelor, " he can' t climb
a tree." " Oh, Bach 1" said I, sote voce. " That's too bad;
it's old, you know."
" You just keep quiet," said he. " These Scotch
men don't know it ; and it's just as good to them as
a fresh one."
I do not know what the Scotchmen thought ; they
said nothing ; but during the rest of the voyage no
one ever ventured another conundrum.

CHAPTEE XIV.

THE FANCY BALL.

HE next day, like the past evening, was disa
greeable ; there were clouds, and a hazy at-
^^» mosphere, and occasionally chill winds. The
ladies, who prefer fair weather at sea, scarcely
showed themselves on the decks. The gentlemen
moped, and did all they could to raake each other
miserable. The officers were moody, and not dis
posed to converse. Not finding any body on deck
inclined to be agreeable, I went back to my state
room. There it was no better, my companion being
deep in "The Eeveries of a Bachelor." Finally, I
went to the great saloon.
Here I found my good friends — in one sense old,
in another new — John Marshall and wife, and joined
them. After a few common place remarks, our con
versation turned upon their history, of which I re
member a few particulars. They had resided eighteen
years in America, during which time Mr. Marshall had

the fancy ball. 77
been successful in business. They were now return
ing to England, free from debt, with twenty thous
and doUars in their possession, to spend the remnant
of their Uves with two nieces — their nearest rela
tives — who, at their death, were to inherit their prop
erty. The Marshalls occupied a state-room next to mine
and after this i-nter-view, much of our time was spent
in each other' s society. He was a man of good edu
cation and of considerable culture, and quite well ac
quainted — a rare thing for an EngUshman — with the
construction and policy of our government. Mrs.
Marshall, a most worthy woman, affectionate in her
disposition, and of motherly tenderness as I have
good reasons to remember, was equally well informed,
and enjoyed even a better memory. To these excellent
people I was indebted for very much of the pleasure
which I enjoyed during our voyage.
By Wednesday morning the dullness had become
intolerable, and even the ladies were glad to creep
out upon the deck and enjoy what my friend O'Neil
caUed " the ilegant water view." This day we were
off Ne-wfoundland for several hours, and had a good
opportunity to observe distantly its bleak and barren
coast ; but instead of affording pleasure, it gave us
all what Mrs. Gabler called the blues, a pious contrac
tion of blue devils. I wondered to what straits those

78 benedict's wanderings.
early voyagers must have been reduced, to have wel
comed the sight of such a land. But it will not do
to question their judgment in this respect, for it is
the fashion now to trace ancestry back to them as an
honorable starting point ; indeed, I should do the
same if I could find a Benedict among the notables
of the May Flower.
While off the coast of Newfoundland, fighting the
blue-devils, — I beg Mrs. Gabler' s pardon — a musical
entertainment of stupendous proportions was pro
jected for the following evening ; to consist of an
orchestra, solos, duetts, concerts, and terminate with
a grand fancy ball. Through the chairman of the
committee of arrangements I received a special in
vitation, and was assigned a prominent part in the
performance. I wished to decline, but was assured
that, without my aid, the whole thing would be a
failure. Indeed, I am not quite certain that it was
otherwise with my assistance.
Some parts of the performance were unquestionably
good, the solos in particular. There were some ex-
cellent voices, and some of them were highly culti
vated, the best being those of Miss Small, Miss
M'Kenna and Musgrave. The best uneducated
singer was the chief engineer. He was indeed a most
extraordinary vocalist, with a compass of voice and a
clearness of tone I have never heard surpassed. In

THE FANCY BALL. 79
personal appearance he was almost as remarkable as
in natural musical talent ; a Scotchman, tall, raw-
boned, and angular, with jet black hair worn short,
and a full flowing beard of the same color, so luxuriant
as to leave visible, under his military cap, only his
nose and eyes. 0 ! th,ought I, what a splendid pio
neer he would make for a company of Connecticut
militia !
The orchestra, consisting of a cracked violin and a
wind-'broken accordeon, though of little benefit to the
singing, answered a very good purpose when we came
"to trip the light fantastic toe." In the first set I
danced -with Mrs. Small, and in the next with Mrs.
MarshaU ; Bachelor, in both, with the winsome wid
ow pthe surgeon with Miss Small ; Musgrave with
Miss M'Kenna, and Dinnie with Miss MacGill.
Then Bachelor introduced me to the widow, with
whom I danced the rest of the evening ; while he
himself vacillated between the captain' s daughter and
" the ship's beauty," much to the discomfort of both
Dinnie and¬the surgeon.

CHAPTEE XV.

THE CAT-ASTROPHE.

^HE morning of Friday was bright and beau
tiful, and many of the passengers had come

V^k^^l^,^ VXJ-X^Xt LVLJV/f. J.A.X%Mt.-i J V.'JU UXJLyj ¦^t.<JUkJ\.JJ.J.£L V.

^rajji upon deck to enjoy the sunshine. They
were dispersed in pairs and trios, and even little
groups, engaged in desultory conversation. Here and
there was an individual, a sort of solitary, standing
apart, with folded arms, scanning the sea and sky,
or searching the horizon for some object of attractive
interest. But there was the sunshine of satisfaction
in every countenance.
Suddenly there was heard a caterwauling of the
most hideous character. It proceeded from one of
the gangways leading to the forward cabin, and was
immediately followed by a Maltese cat, of unusual
size and beauty, "all in a flame of fire." Some of
the female passengers were startled by the sound
others shocked at the sight, and all were filled with
apprehension lest the ship should be set on fire.
On reaching the deck. Grimalkin made directly for

THB CAT-ASTROPHE. 81
a coterie of ladies standing near the wheel-house.
Such a screeching and scampering never before oc
curred on board the old Columbia. Indeed, there
was sufficient cause for consternation ; it was possi
ble to set the women on fire, even if the ship escaped.
Yet in spite of the danger, there was something ex
ceedingly ludi<;rous in the scene. I shall not describe
the appearance of the ladies ; that I must leave to
conjecture ; but the following are some of their ex
clamations, simultaneously uttered : " Oh ! Oh !
'Scat ! 'Scat ! Take it away ! KiU it ! We shaU
all be burned ! 0 Lord, have mercy upon us !"
Disappointed in these women, the poor suffering
animal ran away forward, toward a group of girls,
who were scarcely less frightened, and made full as
much fluttering and fuss. Meeting with no better
reception from the inmates of the second cabin, puss
returned to the after deck, and dashed again at the
circle of ladies near the wheelhouse, putting them to
ignominious flight.
Then up and down and across the deck, though
scorched to the skin and still in a flame, poor Malta
ran at the top of his speed, wauling ,the while in a
most piteous and painful manner. In truth, it was a^
sight sickening to behold !
Presently a couple of sailors, each with a marline-
spike, or some other of the ship' s instruments, went

82 benedict's Wanderings.
in pursuit, and the poor inflamed creature, after be
ing coursed about the deck for a few seconds, to
avoid their deathful blows leaped overboard and was
drowned. Up to this moment I had not noticed the executive
officer. He was standing near the mizzen mast, ob
servant of all that had transpired on the deck.
" Was it turpentine .?" he inquired of the sailors.
"Ay, ay, sir," repUed one of them.
" Who did it .?" he demanded.
The question was asked in an ordinary tone, though
I could see by his heightened color and the fearful
flash of his eye, that he was greatly incensed.
There was no reply. The sailors stood still, with
their eyes dropped on the deck. They knew, but
would not answer. The old salt, as the weather-
beaten tar is often called, wUl undergo punishment
at times, rather than inform against a comrade.
" Go below !" cried the officer.
The words were uttered, or rather bellowed forth,
in a tone so savage, that the sailors on the instant
and as it were for their lives, ran away quickly to the
forward gangway and disappeared. Decending by
the nearest stairs, the officer also disappeared.
I inquired of the second officer, near whom I was
standing at the time, what would be the fate of these
men for refusing to answer.

THE cat-astrophb. 83
"I dinna ken," he replied.
Not satisfied with this answer, I put another ques
tion: "What do you conjecture .?"
" Weel," said he, in the broadest language I ever
heard, " it may be ye'U see nae mair o' themsel to
the en' o' the voyage."
He was a Scotchman, as may be inferred from his
pronunciation, though it was only when he wished to
avoid the inquiries of passengers that he resorted to
the Scotch idiom. At such times, as few, not them
selves Scotchmen, understood his replies, he was sel
dom troubled a second time.
He was not popular with the passengers ; they
thought him morose, and perhaps he was taciturn.
But there was not on board the ship an officer more
careful in the discharge of his duties, or more wary of
his words when they in any way pertained to his fel
low officers. These latter traits, always estimable,
in an officer at sea almost indispensable, had secured
him the respect and confidence of his superiors, and
with these he was satisfied.
Though I had no difficulty in catching his mean
ing, I did not care to press him with questions, see
ing that he was inclined to be reticent. I passed
over to the third officer, a young man in most re
spects of an opposite character — rvain and conceited,
with few thoughts and a vocabulary of words,

84 benedict's wanderings.
"It will be bad for those men.?" I remarked,
interrogatively. "Yes," he replied. "They will certainly be pun
ished in some way."
" The officer was very angry ?" I continued.
" Did you think so ? To me he seemed as mild as
a May morning. Why, sir, I have seen him when he
was more to be feared than a thunderbolt — when
even the captain could not restrain his wrath or stay
his powerful arm."
"I pity the poor sailor who has to serve under such
a master," I remarked. "I even pity the two sent
below, though what they meant for sport was both
cruel and wicked." •
" It was not they who set the cat on fire," he re
plied. " Their offense was a refusal to expose the
real culprit. But they might as well, for he has
been discovered."
" Indeed !" I exclaimed. " Who is he .?"
"Tom Tackle, a young fellow who shipped at
New York for the voyage."
I remembered him. A bright young fellow, who
seemed to be out of his place, and was certainly un
der an assumed name. He was too well informed
for a common sailor, though he carefully endeavored
to conceal his intelligence. I had taken a sort of

THE OAT-ASTROPHE. 85
fancy to him, and hoped in time to find out some
thing of his history.
"What will be done with him .?"
" Hard to say. Bread and water and the dungeon
at least. Possibly the cat-o'-nine-tails."
It was three days later before the sailors who re
fused to inform, apppeared again upon the deck ; the
stripling who fired the cat, though anxiously looked
for, was not seen again during the voyage.

CHAPTEE XVI.

THE STORM.

^ffl-^ the night the wind changed, and black
SM| clouds obscured the starry canopy ; the ele-
s^otI ments -were conspiring together to give us battle.
On board preparations were made to repel the
assault ; but none too soon, for at day-break the
storm-king swept down upon us in all his fearful
fury. " The rain fell in torrents,
The thunder rolled deep ;'¦
the flashes of Ughtning were almost incessant ; the
wind rapidly increased to a gale ; " the waves ran
mountain high," and the vessel, unable to stem the
storm, was driven hundreds of miles from her regular
course, within two hundred miles of " Greenland's
Icy Mountains." For flve days and nights the storm
raged with unabated violence, and six days were re
quired to recover the lost distance.
Until the storm reached its height, a few of the
passengers had escaped nausea, Dinnie, Bachelor and

THE STORM. 87
myself among the number ; but when the vessel be
gan to heave and plunge, all save Bachelor were
forced to succumb. The Scotchman resisted man
fully, and, at last, gave in, or, rather, gave out, and
his groans could be heard above the thunder. I, too,
did my best to keep the valves of the stomach closed,
and suffered all the more in consequence. In the
end, perhaps there was not a sicker sinner on board
the old ship than poor Benedict. I fully realized the
feeling another had suffered and described ; for the
first half hour I feared that I should die, and for the
next half hour I feared that I should not. But in
my case the half hours were multiplied into days and
nights, and at one time I should gladly have gone
ashore on the barren coast of Greenland.
With the subsidence of the storm, however, I re
covered my health and appetite. Most of the others
continued to suffer while the effects remained, and
some of them during the rest of the voyage. Mus
grave was of the latter, and for ten days was not seen
again on deck. Dinnie, though he managed to take
his meals, did not keep some of them long ; and the
loss of his " kail and potatoes" occasioned a simul
taneous loss of good temper.
One of the first to recover from the effects of the
storm, was Miss Small, who was never sick except in
a gale. She came upon the deck to breathe a Uttle

88 benedict's wanderings.
fresh air, and immediately Bachelor, who had moped
for two or three days, pounced upon her as a hawk
on a dove. It was the first fair opportunity he had
enjoyed since the unfortunate interruption at the
piano. But while he was talking to her, she was
taken sick again suddenly and was obliged to return
to the saloon. Bachelor cursed the sea, but I in
sisted, greatly to his annoyance, that the sea was not
to blame ; that it was what he was saying that pro
duced the nausea.
It occurred to me at this moment, that I might
have my revenge on Bachelor for the joke he had at
tempted to play off upon the preacher and myself.
That day I lingered at the dinner table in conversa
tion with the surgeon, and when Bachelor left, made
him the subject of remark. "A capital fellow!"
I said. " A man without a fault, save one ; he is a
most incorrigible coquette. Had I a sister here, I
should never allow her to be alone in his society."
I had my revenge, indeed ; but not precisely what
I desired. I hoped to see him chafe with impatience
at the constant presence of the mother or some other
person, whenever he and Miss Small were together.
But instead of that, he saw no more of the young
lady ; her sea-sickness, strange to say, continued to
the end of the voyage. I pitied her, for I knew she
was Grieved.

THB STORM. 89
Bachelor was moody again for a day or two ; but
on the third day Miss MacGill appeared on deck, and
the sight of her dancing curls instantly restored him
to cheerfulness. He joined her at once, and as her
companion was still suffering from the sickness oc
casioned by the storm, there was no one present "to
molest or make them afraid." The tete-a-tete of that
afternoon was but the precursor of many others ; in
deed, for a whole week they were more than half the
time together. Their intimacy had already attracted
the attention of the other passengers, and occasioned
no little speculation.
At length, news of this courtship, or flirtation,
came to the knowledge of Dinnie, as he lay in his
berth on the broad of his back, suffering from a re
cent attack of nausea. Ill as he was, upon hearing
the facts he got up and came upon deck surcharged
-with anger, hoping to find the offenders together. It
happened on that day, that "the ship's beauty" lin
gered below after dinner to execute some trifling
kindness for her companion. But seeing Bachelor
near the gang-way leading to the second cabin, wait
ing for the maid of Inverness, as he supposed, he
made for him.
"Caddie!" cried he flercely, using the Scotch
idiom in his anger, " daur ye mak love to my bonnie
lassie .?"

90 benedict's wanderings.
Had Bachelor anticipated such an attack, he would
have been prepared. As it was, before he had time
to reply, Dinnie seized him by the nape of the neck,
or collar of the coat, and with a dreadful oath,
"what I winna name," lifted him over the ship's
side, and held him suspended at arm's length, while
he informed him that for " tittlin clishmaclaver" to
his "bonnie dearie," he intended to commit his body
to the deep. Bachelor thought he was about to play
the "Last scene of all.
That ends this strange, eventful history.''
Others of us were of the same opinion, for if ap
pearances go for anything, the devil was at that mo
ment in the heart of this Goliah of the Highlands.
Scenes of this sort are never of long duration,
though, as in this instance, they seem so to those
who witness the danger and sympathize with the suf^
ferer. Some of the passengers remonstrated against
such infamous conduct, others (the ladies) pleaded
for the life of the poor Bachelor, but it was only in
obedience to the peremptory command of the cap
tain, or in fear of his positive threat of immediate
arrest and imprisonment, that he desisted.
Before he could utter a word in his defence, how
ever, the captain said, in a very decided manner,

THE STORM.

91

" You -will go ashore at the first landing place, or
into custody at Londonderry.' '
Without deigning a word in reply, Dinnie turned
on his heel and walked away, with a glance over his
shoulder of scorn and defiance.

^W,

CHAPTEE XVII.

LAND, HO !

^y^VEN the bright and beautiful weather that
W^™ followed the storm, failed to restore the quie-
*"i|:»3b tude and confidence of a great number of the
passengers. Mrs. Small tried to get her daughter on
deck, but every time the latter made the least exer
tion, her sickness returned. Musgrave stayed in the
saloon, and spent most of his time with Miss
M'Kenna, who. upon a more intimate acquaintance,
was found to be a girl of remarkable intelligence.
Dinnie was slow in his recovery, but managed to
keep a constant watch upon Bachelor and " the ship's
beauty ;" but the latter was not seen again on deck,
until we came in sight of land. O'Neil and Mar
shall I had made acquainted, and they became great
friends, though they abused each other roundly
whenever the conversation turned upon politics.
Had Miss MacGill continued to come on deck.
Bachelor would have persisted in his attentions, de
spite the disapproval of the renowned Dinnie ; and

LAND, HO ! 93
he would have maintained his pretentions with the
help of an unerring Derringer. But when he be
came satisfied that she had chosen the better part of
valor (prudence), he turned away and tried his bland
ishments upon Miss Nora. Whether the Irish
beauty doubted his sincerity, or preferred the big
brilliant eyes of Musgrave, certain it is he made no
progress in that quarter.
Meantime, almost as a necessity, it had devolved
upon me to play the agreeable to the winsome widow.
She was a most charming little body, attractive in
person and conversation, young and beautiful. She
had been married but a few weeks to a lawyer of
Brooklyn, who died suddenly — three years gone — ,
leaving her a vast fortune in houses, the rents of
which supported her luxuriantly. She was of Scotch
parentage, and was now on a visit to the home of her
forefathers. Again and again, as we sat together in
the evening, on the deck or in the saloon, have I re
called in thought those oft-quoted lines of a famous
and favorite bard of Erin :
" 'Tis sweet to think, that, where'er we rove,
We are sure to flnd somei;hing blissful and dear,
And that, when we're far from the lips we love,
We've but to make love to the lips we are near."
But I resisted their witching influence, and that I
might avoid the temptation, I endeavored to interest
her in my friend Bachelor.

94 ' benedict's wanderings.
One day I said to her : " The more I see of you,
the better I like you. I am quite certain you could
secure the happiness of any good man."
She did not move, or even raise her eyes, but I
could discern tht; faintest possible blush steal over
her pretty cheeks.
"Now, there is my friend Bachelor, 'a fellow of
infinite jest, of most excellent fancy,' — "
"0 ! don't" she interrupted, a little impatiently.
" He is all that and more, no doubt. But what is
it to m(; .? He is a married man !"
" He a married man !" I i-epeated, in a tone of
astonishment. " Well, now I am truly surprised, for
hitherto I had given the ladies credit for some degree
of |)enetration. But I will test you farther — Am I
a married man .?"
" No," she replied.
" Ha ! ha ! ha ! WeU, I shall first convince you
that I am, and then finish what I was saying. Let
rae begin with the likeness of my wife and children."
Taking these from an inner pocket next my heart
I handed them to her.
" I have seen them," she said, after a careless
glance at each of them.
" Seen them !" I exclaimed, surprised.
" The pictures, I mean," she replied.
" Where ? when .?" I inquired.

LAND, HO ! 95
"The night of the fancy ball. They are Ais,"
making a gesture in the direction of Bachelor.
The ingenious -villian ! He had played us a trick,
and it was now as plain to me as a picture. That he
might enjoy a better opportunity to flirt with Miss
Small and "the ship's beauty," for the pleasure of
annoying the surgeon and the athlete, he had in
vented this story ; and to give it plausibility, had
borrowed the photographs of my wife and children
for secret exhibition.
I explained to her the whole case as it really stood,
and she listened with close attention ; but I was un
certain when done, whether she believed his story or
my explanation. Without another word, she bade
me good night, and went directly to her state-room.
Early the next morning, the hearts of all on board
were gladdened with the cry, from the man on the
lookout, "Land, ho!"
" Whither away .?" inquired the captain, taking up
his telescope. We had been driven out of our regu
lar course, and were now approaching from a differ
ent point of the compass.
After a careful survey of the horizon in the direc
tion indicated, the captain lowered his glass, with the
remark, " Malin Head. We shall make the port by
noon." I had heard so much said about the beauty of Ire-

96 benedict's wanderings.
land as seen from the sea — resembUng a great glitter
ing emerald in the midst of a chased chryst.al set
ting — that I was really disappointed when I beheld
the rocky coast of the north country, more bleak and
desolate, it seemed to me, than even Newfoundland,
at sight of which I had shuddered. But I consoled
myself with the reflection, that the resemblance
might be more perfect from some other approach, and
that I might yet enjoy the illusion. Had it been
ten times as bleak, however, I should have rejoiced to
behold a country of which I had heard so many mar
velous stories in my childhood, of which I had read so
many deeds of daring and bravery in history, and of
which a native poet had written in praise and
prophecy :
" The nations are fallen, and thou still art young,
Thy sun is but lising when others are set ;
And though slavery's cloud o'er thy morning hath hung.
The full moon of freedom shall beam round thee yet.
Erin ! O Erin ! though long in the shade.
Thy star will shine out when the proudest shall fade !"

PART II.

CHAPTEE I.

COASTWISE.

HEN I left home, it was a matter of little
consequence to me whither I went, where I
^-' sojourned, or how I occupied my time, so
that I regained the health and spirits I had lost
through my sickness. The instructions of my phy
sician were as latitudinous as could well be desired ;
after a sea voyage I was at liberty to go any where
beyond the reach of frost and foul weather. Left to
their own choice, invalids usually prefer France or
Italy, on account of the mild climate and the many
objects of interest found in every nook and corner of
the country. My inclination led me to select the
latter, as it bordered on the Mediterranean, the
countries round about which have furnished the inci
dents for more history, sacred and profane, than any
other body of water in the whole world. Yet it was
my desire, before visiting the continent, to behold
some of the grandeur and beauty of the British isles,

100 benedict's wanderings.
particularly Ireland and Scotland, whence came my
ancestors. Indeed, it was part of the plan upon
which Bachelor and I had settled, that we should
ramble about these two countries until the dew
turned to frost — that being the limit of my liberty
under the mandate of my medical monitor.
The sight of Malin Head, after the storm through
which I had passed and the manner I had suffered,
made me doubly anxious to stand again on terra-
firma; and I resolved in my own mind to leave the
old ship at Londonderry. But when I came to ac
quaint Bachelor with my purpose, I found that he
had also fixed upon a place of stoppage, his being
Glasgow. I endeavored to persuade him to accom
pany me, as otherwise he would have to return to
Ireland, or go home without having beheld the beau
ties of that remarkable country, which, as an induce
ment to the ear, I styled, in poetical phrase, "the gem
ofthe sea." But he was inflexible, giving as a reason
that, while in the " Green Isle" there were plenty of
Benedicts, there were very few Bachelors, and that
he preferred to be in a country where he could meet
more of his own relations.
" Bach," said I, " you are in love. ' Now, which is
it, the captain's daughter or the ship's beauty .?"
" In love ! I hardly know, Ben," he replied,

coastwise. 101
thoughtfully. " I hope not, and yet I feel as did the
poor fellow in the Beggar' s Opera —
' How happy could I be with either,
Were t'other dear charmer away.' "
" Well," said I, consolingly, " I am very sorry, for
Miss Debbie Small (so it was said on the ship) is
engaged to the surgeon, and Mary MacGill (I regret
to say it) is a coquette."
" As to the engagement," he replied, with unusual
gravity, " I do not believe a word of it ; and you are
very greatly mistaken in your estimation of the char
acter of Miss MacGiU."
" Serious, eh ? Well, since you are so, I shall
maintain my position. A week hence you will con
firm the rumor, and adopt my estimation of charac
ter. Indeed, the latter is susceptible of present
proof. Miss MacGill is most bewitchingly beautiful,
and her smiles arerlike the sunshine of summer ; but
they are bestowed without discrimination — now on
Bachelor, anon on Dinnie, at another time on that
sorrel-haired Scotchman they call Stewart, and had I
afforded her an opportunity she would have lavished
them even upon poor Benedict."
I was about to admonish him not to waste his
time in making love where it would not be appre
ciated, but to turn his thoughts and attentions upon
one as fair and young as either, the winsome widow,

102 benedict's wanderings.
when that beautiful creature came on deck, and
greeted us with a genial good morning. It was the
first time I had seen her since the evening when she
virtually accused me of attempting to pass myself as
a married man, and I was pleased to observe that she
was in a cheerful and happy mood ; though I could
not but wonder if she still thought me in a state of
" single blessedness.' '
'" The colleen bawn,' ' said she, using the favorite
expression of the gallant O'Neil, "has just informed
me that you" — her remark was addressed to me —
" intend to leave the ship at Londonderry, and
become the guest, for a time, of her uncle."
"I propose to enter Ireland at that point," I
replied, " but the brief time I remain will be spont in
wandering about the country, seeing whatever is to
be seen in so short a period. As to the rest, O'Neil
has invited me to go with him to the house of his
friend, and afterwards to visit himself at his home in
Downpatrick." " And your friend ? " said the widow, aUuding to
Bachelor. "He goes on to Glasgow, where I hope to join him
within a week," I replied.
" In that case, gentlemen," said she, now address
ing both of us, " I may have the pleasure of meeting
you again, as I shall there wait the arrival of my

coastwise. 103
brother, who resides in the town of Dalkeith, a few
miles from Edinburgh. When you visit that city,
sometimes called, by reason of its superior educa
tional advantages, ' the modern Athens,' you will
find Dalkeith a pleasant place to sojourn for a few
days, while you take a look at some of the most
noted objects in the south of Scotland — Hawthomden,
the classical habitation of the poet Drummond, the
friend of Shakspeare and Jonson ; the cottage near
Lasswade, where Sir Walter Scott spent some of the
happiest years of his life ; Melville Castle, Dalkeith
Palace, Newbattle Abbey, Dalhousie Castle, Hough
ton House, and the castles of Borthwick and Crichton;
the vale and chapel of Eosliu, and the mouldering
ruin of Eoslin Castle, the origin of which is involved
in obscurity — all of which are in the immediate
vicinity. My brother is a man of unusual hospitality,
who -will be only too glad to welcome any friends of
his sister ; and being a man of remarkable curiosity,
he will be delighted with the novelty of meeting two
American gentlemen with a wife and two children."
There was a twinkle of pleasure in her eye as she
uttered the last sentence, with emphasis on the
words italicized; but before either Bachelor or I
could utter a. word in answer, she extended her pretty
little dimpled hand and bade me good-bye, with her
best wishes for a pleasant ramble in Hibernia.

104 benedict's wanderings.
As she walked away to join Mrs. Gabler and
daughter, to whom Mrs. Barrington was pointing out
Downhill Castle, near the mouth of Lough Foyle,
Bachelor turned to me and inquired, with an innocent
expression of countenance, "What did she mean, Ben.?"
Looking at him intently for a moment, while the
hot blood mounted to his temples, I replied, " Indeed,
I have not the least idea.' '
Doubtful of my candor, he watched me for a
moment, and then exclaimed, as if moved by a sudden
thought, " 0, Ben ! as you will be gone but a week,
suppose you let me take the photographs of Mrs.
Ben and the babies until we meet again at Greenock
or Glasgow.? "
"Not on any account," said I quickly, as if
startled by the proposition. " Tiiey are my guardian
angels. Should I be drowned in Lough Neagh or
precipitated over some precipice in the Giant's Cause
way, they must be found next my heart and be laid
with me in the grave." And then I added, curi
ously, "What do you want with theni.? "
"0, nothing! only, I thought, that, perhaps" —
he began, a Uttle confused ; but recovering himself,
continued — " if you should find Erin specially attrac
tive, and be tempted to prolong your stay, the fear
of a wider separation from them might induce greater
punctuality."

coastwise. 105
" It would, undoubtedly," I replied. " But you
need have no apprehension; I shall keep my engage
ment." Availing myself of a chance opportunity, shortly
before we reached the port of Londonderry, I whis
pered to the winsome widow: " After I have left the
ship, be sure and ask my friend Bachelor — and if he
declines insist upon it — to let you look again at the
photographs of his wife and children."

CHAPTEE II.

IN PORT.

:jS we approached the entrance to Lough Foyle
a beautiful estuary about eighteen miles in
i^^ length, the most prominent object 'in view
was Downhill Castle, the residence of Sir Harvey
Bruce. It stands on the right shore of the lake, on
an elevated site, from which may be obtained one of
the grandest views in the country, embracing a con
siderable portion of the county Donegal, and extend
ing far out to ocean. It is an immense edifice,
and presents a most imposing appearance, viewed
from any point, particularly from the entrance to the
estuary. It is especially noted for the number of its
windows, of which it is said to contain no less than
three hundred and sixty-four — more than- any other
castle in Ireland.
" Altogether," said Mrs. Barrington, who had
described the edifice to Mrs. Gabler and others
gathered about her, " it is one of the most beautiful
and majestic structures in the whole country."

IN PORT. 107
"It is a gaudy, glittering, glass house," said
O'Neil, contemptuously, when she had finished her
description. "The boys of Derry could batter it
down with stones. It is nothing compared with the
old castles. Look, for instance, at that ruin on the
other side of the Foyle."
He pointed to the remains of the walls and turrets
of an old stone edifice known as Green Castle, a
modern name, suggested by the apjaearance of the
crurabling pile, which is covered with green ivy.
That it was a fortress constructed for defence against
a powerful foe, is evident from the strength of the
remains ; but of its origin nothing whatever is known
— ^its history is lost in antiquity.
" I have none of that vain and useless veneration,
winch you in common with so many others, cast
around the works of long-buried hands," said Mrs.
Barrington. " That old castle may have been built
for the protection of pa  ," she was about to say
"papacy", but out of respect to O'Neil, changed it to
— " paganism."
O'Neil, discerning her delicacy, made no reply,
though a sharp one was at the end of his tongue.
Instead, he directed my attention to the ruins of an
old fort farther down the shore, and nearer the
entrance to the lake. It had been a stone structure,

108 benedict's wanderings.
seemingly of great strength, but was then in a very
dUapidated condition.
" Whether an outwork of the old castle," said he,
"is not known ; some think it so, and sorae regard
it as a modern structure. It is probably the latter,
and may have been constructed as a defence to the
Foyle ; the position it occupies would seem to favor
that inference."
This old fortification is known at the present day
. as GUligan Fort, a name derived, it is said, from the
present or some former owner. The castle is the
property of two sisters, the Misses Chaster, but is
only valuable as an antiquated ruin.
It was nearly noon when the ship arrived at
Moville, sometimes called the port of Londonderry,
from which it is distant about eighteen miles. It iS
a small market town and parish, containing nearly
six hundred inhabitants. Seen from the vessel it had
the appearance of a collection of thatched huts, of an
inferior quality. It is a place of little importance,
though during the summer steam vessels of small
size ply to Londonderry.
At this point three or four passengers left the ship,
and among the rest Donald Dinnie. But w'hether
the latter went ashore of " his own free will and
accord," or in fear lest the threat of the (;aptain
would be put into execution, no one knew unless it

IN PORT. 109
was Sandy Stewart, to whose care he entrusted his
baggage. But Stewart was silent as the grave on the
subject, and the curious were left to their own con
jectures. On reaching the shore Dinnie turned about sud
denly, and surveyed the ship for a moment, with
a savage scowl upon his countenance. Presently
he raised his finger in a menacing manner, shook
it defiantly at some one on board, then turned again
and stalked away, with his raany medals glittering in
the sun, like an Indian chief who has hurled a declar
ation of war in the face of his foe.
It was not very manifest whether the menace was
meant for Captain Small, who was quietly observing
the discharge of the mails for Londonderry and the
transfer of passengers to the Uttle steamer alongside,
or for Bachelor, who was standing by the side of " the
ship's beauty," engaged with her in conversation. I
thinkit was designed for the latter, who could not forego
the opportunity to triumph over his discomfited rival.
Evidently Dr. Gabler regarded the departure Ofthe
giant with satisfaction, while Musgrave, a little apart
but within hearing, repeated the lines from Macbeth
by wayof soUloquy: " A poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more : it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."

110 benedict's wanderings.
Dr. Gabler was the centre of a little group, of which
his wife and daughter, Mrs. SmaU and daughter, and
Mrs. Barrington were the principal personages. They
were watching the debarkation of Dinnie, and com
menting upon his character. But upon hearing these
words of Shakespeare repeated, there was sudden
silence. All present turned their eyes upon the young man,
who now advanced, and extending his hand to the
doctor, said : " As we are about to part, allow me to
bid you good-bye, and wish you a pleasant and pros
perous tour, a safe return with improved health and
spirits, and money enough to build a handsome
church for Pemberton. Ladies, farewell ! ' '
Having uttered these words as it were in a breath,
he turned about suddenly, walked quickly away, and
passed over the side of the ship to the deck of the
Uttle steamer.
Quick as they were spoken, however, he had man
aged to cast a furtive glance at Miss Gabler as he
pronounced the name of Pemberton. The fair face
of the young lady turned suddenly to crimson ; it
was the name of her betrothed.
The aUusion, though delicately made, could not be
mistaken. The young man was possessed of infor
mation, thought by the reverend doctor to be a secret
of his and his friends. In what way had it come

IN PORT. Ill
to his knowledge .? He might have puzzled his
brain over this question, had he not observed, at that
moment, the heightened color of his daughter.
" Bella," said he, " who is that young man .? "
"Until this moment," replied the blushing Ara
bella, " I had not a suspicion. He was called John
Smith, and I supposed that was his name ; but now
I think it is Harry Musgrave.' '
"Impossible ! " exclaimed the divine. " The rosy,
rollicking Harry, such a skeleton ! such a shadow !
And yet, I remeraber  ." But without finishing
the reraark, he walked over to the side of the ship
next the little steamer, and called to the young man :
" Harry, I am sorry you did n'ot make yourself known
to me."
" Pardon me, doctor,' ' said Musgrave, looking up
smilingly from the deck of the little steamer. " But
inasmuch as you regret it, I shall do so the next
time we meet."
" The same frolicsome fellow ! ' ' soliloquized the
divine, going back in memory to the childhood of the
young man. " But how pale, how very pale and
emaciated ! Poor fellow ! I fear he is soon to enter
the valley of the shadow of death." Then to Mus
grave — " Good-bye, Harry ! May the Lord, in his
infinite mercy, protect you in this life, and prepare
you for the life that is to come, eternal in the
Heavens ! ' '

CHAPTEE III.

ADIEUS.

low the time had come when I must bid
adieu to all my ship acquaintances — all, at
S least, who were on the deck. Had I been a
vain man the scene that followed must have been
most gratifying. All the passengers flocked about
me, as though I had been a personage of distinction,
and it was accounted an honor to take me by the
hand at parting. The truth is, very many people,^
most Araericans, indeed, — when they go abroad, wrap
themselves up in their selfishness, and utterly ignore
all others' rights and privileges. The secret of my
popularity was, that I had made myself reasonably
agreeable, at no very great expenditure of personal
politeness — a word here, a joke there, and occasion
ally, where it could be duly appreciated, a look at the
sun in the morning through my Bourbon telescope.
The captain was cordial ; indeed, for a Scotchman,
he was demonstrative. He invited me to visit him at
his house in Glasgow, and said his wife would never

ADIEUS. 113
forgive me if I declined. Mrs. Small not only
seconded the invitation, but paid me so many fiatter
ing compliments, that I actually blushed — the first
and only time in my life that I yielded to such a
weakness. She concluded with — " Of all the Ameri
cans I have met, none have made themselves so
agreeable to me as you and your companion." Her
aUusion to Bachelor caused a rush of blood to the
faces of Miss Debbie and the surgeon — hers of pleas
ure, his of anger. I congratulated the young lady on
her recovery, but her manner was constrained ; I
think she suspected rae of being the indirect cause of
the prolongation of her sea-sickness. Not so the
surgeon, who glowed with fervor, assuring me that,
as long as he lived, he would remember me with joy
in his heart.
The Eev. Dr. Gabler, in bidding me good-bye,
expressed the hope that we might meet again in our
travels, and after our return to America. Then tak
ing me aside, he said in an undertone : " You have
observed the young man known among the passen
gers as John Smith .? " " Yes," I replied. " WeU,"
said he, " that is an assumed name, but for what
purpose I can not imagine." I did not enlighten
him. "No matter," he continued. "His real narae
is Harry Musgrave. His father was an old parishioner
of mine, and a zealous member of the church; him-

114 benedict's wanderings.
self was the brightest scholar in the Sunday school.
I have heard that, through incessant overwork, he has
damaged his health seriously, if not, as I fear, fatally.
And now, sir, I have a favor to ask, as the fast friend
of his father, and in the name of humanity, that so
long as you and he may travel the same route, you
will extend over him your care and protection .? " I
readily and cheerfully gave the promise.
As a people, in all the world there are none better
than the English ; but as individuals, they are too
much like their American progeny, selfish, taciturn,
and discontented. Of course I have reference to
first acquaintance, for after the ice is once thawed, the
Englishman is a most agreeable companion. Such
was the case with John Marshall, and I may also
include Mrs. Marshall. They invited me to visit
them at their future horae in old Leeds — the Marshall
homestead ; indeed, they exacted of me a promise
that, if I set foot in England, I should spend at least
a week under their roof ; and I trust there is a time
in the future, when I shall have it in my power
to accept their invitation and partake of their hospi
tality. The Countess di LavareUo, after a short survey of
the surrounding prospect, had returned to the saloon,
the sight of the water having occasioned a relapse
into her sea-sickness. But the Count, who remained

ADIEUS. 115
on deck to witness the departure of the passengers for
Londonderry, came forward and bade me " Adieu ! "
adding in his broken English, that he should sojourn
with his brother in Edinburgh until my arrival, as he
desired the pleasure of my company on the voyage to
Italy. I was the more gratified with this assurance,
as we had not exchanged a dozen sentences during the
voyage beyond the customary salutations.
In parting with Bachelor, I had a mind to upbraid
him for his desertion ; but he expressed his regrets
with so much emotion that I was completely disarmed.
I was obliged to content myself with a renewal of the
warning I had given him, against the lavishment of
his love upon women by whom it would not be
appreciated. At the same time, I hinted as delicately
as I could, that I thought Dalkeith a better place to
spend the week I should be in Ireland than eitlier
Glasgow or Inverness. Laying his hand above his
heart, and "sighing like furnace," he replied, tragi-
caUy, " I go where duty calls."
Mary MacGill had walked aside while I conversed
with Bachelor, but now she came back, and laying her
pretty white hand in mine, said in an undertone :
" When you know me better, you will entertain for
me a more exalted opinion.' ' I was disconcerted, but
assured her, as well as I could, that I thought her
beautiful, as beautiful as a houri. " But I am not a

116 benedict's WANDERINGS.
houri," she replied. "And," I added, "as good as
you are beautiful." "Prettily said," said she,
" and if it came from the heart, instead of the
lips, I should be delighted." I was about to protest
my sincerity, when shecontinued, "You think me — "
then paused, as if to weigh again the words she was
going to utter ; and I completed the sentence, archly,
—"an unsafe person to leave my friend with."
" Yes," said she, " that will suffice. But you do
your friend a very great injustice ; he is not a novice."
" Certainly not," said I ; " but there are wiles against
which even a wider experience — " "0!" she ex
claimed, with mock deference, "you give me credit
for powers I do not possess." Then she continued, in
a tone of earnestness, " Would you do me a favor .? "
"With the greatest pleasure," I replied. "Then
leave this vessel with the belief, that ' I am that I am,'
a sincere woman."
I began to think that she was, and that a part of
her sincerity was to capture the poor Bachelor.
That he could resist such beauty, backed by so
much wit and wisdom, short of a rairacle, seemed to
me impossible. Yet there was one chance which I
sought to secure in his favor. The woman of Inver
ness, in whose care Mary had been placed for the
voyage, a prudent person and the friend of her
mother, might prevent any entanglement of the affec-

ADIEUS. 117
tions, if duly notified. I went up to her and said,
after what I thought a' suitable introduction, that
young people, if left too much to themselves, were
apt to form undue attachments. She turned upon me
sharply, " Gin ye hae ony fear o' the lad, tak him wi '
ye ; I hae nane o' Mary."

CHAPTEE IV.

INCIDENTS.

[In passing from the ship to the little steamer,
the foot of Mrs. Barrington sliped, and had it
not been for my timely assistance, she must
have received a very severe fall. She thanked me on
the spot, in a most cordial manner, and said it was
gratifying to her heart to know that she was not in
debted for her perservation to an infidel. And it was
gratifying to mine, this allusion to the trick of Bach
elor, as it went to show that the truth in the case had
been discovered.
In my experience, I have fully realized that kind
services seldom go unrewarded. It was my good for
tune, in this instance, to lay the foundation for vol
untary acts of good will, which I had no reaSon to ex
pect. These were preceded by an invitation from
Mrs. Barrington, extended on our way to London
derry, to make my home at her house while I re
mained in Belfast. " For," said she, "now that you

INCIDENTS. 119
are in Ireland, you will not depart without having
visited the city that is first in financial prosperity,
and the source and center of nearly every important
moral and religious reformation."
I had scarcely reached the deck of the little
steamer, — after having rendered Mrs. Barrington the
ser-vice mentioned, — when Tom Tackle, the young
sailor who, in a moment of thoughtlessness, had set
the cat on fire, was led forth from his place of con
finement, to be sent ashore at Moville. During
the voyage he had been confined, and now he was
discharged without consideration.
He was a most pitiable object! I had observed
him the day we set sail, and afterwards on several
occasions ; he was then neat and clean in his person
and apparel ; now he was black and dirty as the
firemen. Then he was hale and ruddy, and now he
was pale and wasted to a skeleton, looking as though
he had not tasted food since the day of his disgrace.
As he dropped into the boat, I heard him exclaim,
sadly, " Adrift without a dollar !"
Never before had words fallen with so much force
upon my ear. Here was a countryman of my own, a
mere youth, a stranger in a strange land, without the
means wherewith to keep himself from starvation.
He was not near enough for me to address him in an
ordinary conversational tone, and the little steamer

120 benedict's wanderings.
was about to leave the ship ; yet I could not forsake
him, without an effort to alleviate his suffering condi
tion. In my pocket I had an apple, brought from the
lunch table, and into it I pressed a brace of sovereigns,
and then called to him : " Tora ! Tom Tackle !"
The poor fellow raised his head, and looked at me
through his tears, wonderstruck at the sound of a
kind voice.
" Here is a penny for luck," said I, holding the
apple in view. " Can you catch .?"
He raised his hands, and when I pitched the apple,
caught it with the dexterity of a professional ball
player. Crushing it between his knees, he extracted
the sovereigns, for which he thanked me, and then de
voured the fruit, like a man at the verge of starva
tion.

»^<^1

CHAPTEE V.

UP THE FOYLE.

¦\9" LMOST from the very entrance of Lough

Foyle, the shore was thickly studded with
snug little cottages, some of which, fronting
the water, presented a very pretty appearance. Here
and there was a house of raore pretentions, though
none of much magnitude, or of very costly construc
tion. The grounds of the cottages were generally
clean and cultivated, in many places down to the
edge of the water. Beyond the coast, up the sloping
hiU-sides, could be seen the numerous narrow fields
and the thatched homes of the husbandmen. Far
ther away, in nearly every direction, hamlets and
villages dotted and diversified the landscape. Alto
gether, with the trees and shrubs arrayed in their
gorgeous autumnal costume of gold and crimson
hues, it was one of the pleasantest prospects I beheld
in the north of Ireland.
The prettiest of these cottages was particularly

122 benedict's wanderings.
brought to my notice by O'Neil. It was the home of
one who, in early life, had come to the United States,
and through naturalization become an American citi
zen. In the course of time he acquired a large for
tune, then returned and purchased the place of his
birth. This he adorned in nearly every way of
which it was capable, beginning with the cottage
which he enlarged and otherwise improved. In the
midst of a lawn, which extended to the shore, slop
ing gently and gradually, there was a bubbling foun
tain, of sparkling water, which, after supplying an
acquarium, meandered araong flowering shrubs down
to the lake. There were winding walks, shaded with
evergreen trees, leading in various directions, one of
which went down to the shore and along the edge of
the water, gravelled with glittering stones that, daz
zled the eye in the sunshine. There were also other
objects of interest and beauty, which could only be
appreciated upon a closer observation.
At the inouth of the river, five miles below the
city, I observed that the cottages were more numer
ous, and many of thera of better appearance. They
continued to increase in number as we ascended the
river, until at length it became difficult to distin
guish the country from the city. The latter is sit
uated on an oval-shaped hill, about a hundred and
twenty feet above high water, the buildings rising

UP THB FOYLE. 123
tier above tier in a manner exceedingly picturesque.
Some of the public buildings and ecclesiastical struct
ures are distinguishable as we ascend the river, but
at so great a distance cannot be seen with benefit or
satisfaction. Over the river there is a wooden bridge, a thousand
and sixty-eight feet in length, which connects the
city with a large suburb on the opposite bank, called
the Waterside. It was erected in the year 1789, by
Daniel Coxe, of Boston, Massachusetts. This stu
pendous structure, to all strangers an object of inter
est, was to me a matter of pride as well, regarded as
the work of a fellow countryman. As the grandeur
of its appearance could be observed to best advan
tage in ascending the river, I did not allow it to es
cape the notice of the passengers.
" 0, yes," said O'Neil, " it is magnificent. And
are ye knowing to the fact that it was put there by
an American .?"
" Assuredly," I replied ; " and I may as well con
fess it, it was that fact which led me to speak of its
grandeur." "I thought so," said he. " Yet I do not object;
it is right. But T call your attention to it, that you
may not think me singular in my egotism, when I
come to boast of my own royal ancestors."
Of the passengers on the Uttle steamer ; some

124 benedict's wanderings.
were returning home to visit their parents, and pro
yide for their greater comfort ; others, who had ac
cumulated a competence, to spend the remnant of
their days in the homes of their childhood ; and a
few (lazy feUows, no doubt,) in supreme disgust of
everything 'American, having, failed to find the
bushes on which the golden dollars grow like hazel
nuts. On the shore, their friends were waiting to
receive them, in great numbers, with smiling faces,
words of good cheer, and hearty embraces. The
scene that followed, was characterized by such mani
festations of joy as I had never before witnessed.
O'Neil directed ^y attention to a man of gentle
manly appearance, who stood a Uttle beyond the
throng, waiting an opportunity to enter the vessel.
He was a tall man, straight and slender, with iron-
gray hair, and face somewhat wrinkled with the
winds of sixty winters — O'Neil's was soft and smooth
with the sunshine of sixty summers. They had been
students together, gay boys alike, but in after years
while the latter quaffed from " the golden bowl" of
healtb and happiness, the other had " drained the
cup of sorrow."
Phelin O'Keeffe — such was the name of the " fine
ould Irish gintleman" of Londonderry — leaning upon
his staff, "still as a statue," had an austere aspect
and an imperious bearing ; observing which, I pitied

ttP THE FO-yLE. 1^5
the gentle Nora. He was surveying the people on
the deck of the vessel, and scanning every countenance.
Presently he descried O'Neil, and the harsh features
(a good thing for Nora, I thought,) relaxed into
a broad smile, and the statue " Uved and moved."
It seemed but a twinkling before his strong arms
clasped the lovely girl to his breast, and hers en
circled his neck, while their lips met and tbeir tesirs
mingled. It was an affecting scene, though not unpleasant
to behold ; but O'Neil, passing his arm through
mine, turned away toward the Waterside. " Let us
leave them to themselves," he said. "Where they
meet now, they parted years ago. She was then a
little girl, standing between her father and mother ;
and he was a younger man, with raven locks, sur
rounded by his wife and three brave boys ; but these
are all the scythe of time has spared. There is a great
sorrow upon them, but now it will soften with their
tears." After a few minutes, Mr. O'Keeffe, with his niece
(thenceforth to be his daughter) on his arm, came
over to where we were standing, and greeted his
friend in a most cordial manner. A little lively chat
ensued, lasting a minute or so, and in the meanwhile
Miss Nora and I followed their example. Then
O'Neil introduced me to O'Keeffe, remarking that I

126 benedict's WANbERlNGg.
was the best American that he had ever met, and one
who understood a new and beautiful system of as
tronomy. My reception was of the heartiest charac
ter, and never in my life was I made raore welcome
in any man's habitation.
Before leaving the vessel, Mrs. Barrington bade us
all adieu. To O'Neil she said : " Wide as our views
differ in some respects, the world is wide enough for
us to dwell in in peace ; let us hope that Heaven is
not more circumscribed." "Amen !" said O'Neil.
AU this while no one had paid any attention to
Musgrave, who lingered near the gang-way, doubtful
what course to pursue, mentally repeating those mel
ancholy lines of Erin' s sweetest bard —
" I feel like one
Who treads alone
Some banquet hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled,
Whose garlands dead,
And all but he departed."
Eemembering the proraise I had made to Dr. Ga
bler, I asked O'Neil to introduce my friend to his
friend. Said O'Neil, looking at the young man
askance: "He'll not Uve six months, but in half
that time he'll win the heart of the ' colleen bawn,'
and crush it in his death." "Have no fear" Ire-
plied. " We shaU be in Ireland but a week, and in
another week shall be forgotten." I was sorry the

UP THB FOYLE. 127
moment these words were uttered, for they hurt
O'NeU. In presenting Musgrave, he styled him " the friend
of my friend Menedict," but paid a pretty compli
ment to his inteUectual brilliancy ; and was rewarded
for his civiUty, by as sweet a smile as ever wreathed
the rosy lips ofthe " colleen bawn !"

•^^^^

CHAPTEE VI.

THE WALLED CITY.

iiT the present day, the only walled city in
Ireland is Londonderry, or more properly
Derry, the older part of the city, which is
surrounded by a wall about a mile in circuit.
Drogheda was formerly enclosed with walls, some re
mains of vvhich still exist, though in a crumbling
condition. There was a time when " The sweet city
o' Cork," as it is called by the native citizens, was
also a walled city ; and it was thus described in the
year 1600, by Caraden : " Enclosed within a circuit
of walls in the forra of an egg, with the river flowing
around it, and running between, not passing through
but by bridges, lying out in length, as it were, in one
direct broad street, and the same having a bridge over
it !" About ninety years afterwards, the place was
beseiged by the Earl of Marlborough (afterwards
Duke,) and partially destroyed, and from that time for
ward the fortifications graduaUy decayed, until at
length they were replaced by useful buildings. But the

130

benedict's wanderings.

waU around ancient Derry has remained intact, and
now forms an agreeable and fashionable promenade.
In this waU are four great gates, at equal distances

GATE OF LONDONDERKY.

apart, which open into the four principal streets of
the city, each leading to a square in the center,
called the Diamond. To reach the residence of
O'Keeffe, in the suburb on the opposite side of the

the WALLED CITY. 131
city, we passed through two of these gates, two of
these streets, and the square, and were afforded a fine
opportunity for observing the attractions of the city.
As we advanced, O'Keeffe pointed out the principal
objects of interest, as the corporation hall, court
house, jail, custom house, lunatic asylum, and Foyle
College, of the public buildings ; a Doric column,
surmounted by a statue, erected in memory of Eev.
George Walker, the intrepid governor of the city dur
ing the memorable seige in 1689 ; the Cathedral of
the see of Derry, first erected in 1633, by Sir John
Vaughan, and the Bishop's Palace.
It was nearly a furlong beyond the wall to the resi
dence of O'Keeffe, which stood on an elevated spot,
and commanded a fine view ofthe city and surround
ing country. It was an old stone structure, of con
siderable size, with spacious apartments, formerly the '
residence of a leading man in one of the London com
panies, or as they were sometimes called, the " Irish
Society." This association consisted of twelve com
panies of the city of London, to whom James I.
granted the entire county of Derry, confiscated to
the Crown after the rebellion of Con O'Neil, the last
chief of Castlereah. By these companies the county
was colonized -with English, and the name changed
by the prefix of London to Derry, which it still re-

132 benedict's wanderings.
tains, though I observed that my friend O'Neil al
ways said Derry.
After a lunch, which was quickly served and
quickly despatched, Miss Nora, Musgrave and my
self took a stroll through the city, along the prome
nade and in the mall of the Diamond. It was at an
hour when the people usually walk for health and
amusement, and we enjoyed a favorable opportunity
to behold the beauty and fashion of the city, as also
a closer and more satisfactory view of the public and
ecclesiastical edifices.
In the year 1736, Lord Orrery, in a letter to Dean
Swift, drew the following woeful picture of Cork :
" The butchers are as greasy, the Quakers as for
mal, the Presbyterians as holy and as full of the
Lord as ever ; all things are in statu quo : even the
hogs and pigs grunt in the same cadence as of yore,
unfurnished with variety, and drooping under the
natural dullness of the place ; materials for a letter
are as hard to be found as money, sense, honesty, or
truth ;" and a modern writer, an Irishman at that,
speaks of this picture as " a description which would
now-a-days be applicable to no town in Ireland but
Derry." It did not occur to me at the time I was there, or
since, that this description is in the least appUcable
to Londonderry. The four principal streets are wide

THE -WALLED CITY. 133
well built, and elegant in appearance ; the other
streets, though narrower, and some of them very steep,
are paved and lighted with gas. There is an air of
thrift about the place, which supports three or four
newspapers, several branch banks, mills for spinning
flax, flour mills, distilleries, breweries, roperies, foun
dries, tanneries, a ship-yard, and regular communica
tion, by steamers, with Liverpool, Glasgow, Grenock,
and Campbelton.
After sauntering for half an hour in the mall and
promenade, we took a closer survey of the fluted col
uran erected in honor of Governor Walker, who suc
cessfully defended the city during a seige of one hun
dred and five days by the forces of King James II. ;
and then we visited the Bishop's Palace and the
Cathedral, which, in size and style and splendor, are
the principal edifices. The latter is a Gothic struc
ture, from the top of which we obtained an exceUent
view of the city and its surroundings. In this build
ing is a handsome monument, erected to the raemory
of Bishop Knox ; and in it also are preserved the
colors taken at the seige of Derry, the most memora
ble incident in the history of the city. It was with no
ordinary interest that we looked upon these banners,
under which brave men fought and fell nearly two cen
turies ago, in a cause which (is it not reasonable to
presume ?) they at least thought to be just and holy.

134 benedict's wanderings.
The seige came about in this manner. The Earl
of Mount Alexander, a Protestant nobleman, received
information through an anonymous letter, that on a
certain day all the Protestants in Ireland were to be
murdered by the Catholics. He gave the alarm,
which spread to Derry, and completely bewildered
the citizens, except some dozen apprentices, who at
tacked and overpowered the guard, seized the keys,
and secured the Ferry Gate, just as it was reached by
the troops of Loid Antrim. During the seige, the
citizens were reduced to the extremity of eating dogs
and rats, and it is estimated that over two thousand
perished by famine. The besiegers placed a boom
across the river to prevent supplies reaching the city,
but one of the supply frigates, under the command of
Admiral Kirk, with all sails spread, dashed against
the barrier and broke it in twain, and thereby the
city was saved. ,
" Now came still evening on, and twilight gray
Had in her sober livery all things clad ;"
reminding us that it was the hour appointed by
O'Keefi'e for the service of that day's dinner. We
hastened back, and being in time for grace, avoided
disgrace. The dinner was plain and modest, but ex
cellent ; and it was highly spiced with lively conver
sation, to which Father McQuinlan, the parish priest,
largely contributed. During the meal an excursion

THE WALLED CIDY. 135
' was planed for the next day, to Lough Erne, near
Enniskillen. After the cloth was removed, (Miss
Nora having withdrawn to the parlor,) O'Keeffe
placed in the center of the table, a bottle of
"poteen" — a mild beverage very popular in that
country, and commendable for its purity. A number
of toasts complimentary to hogt and guests having
been drank, Musgrave proposed the following as an
infallible criterion for ascertaining a true Irishman :
"By Mac and O
You'll always know
True Irishmen, they say ;
Por, if they lack,
Both O and Mac,
No Irishmen are they. "
As every one present (he and I excepted) was an 0
or a Mac, it was received with uprorious approbation.
Being in rhyme, it reminded O'Neil ofa song he had
heard the "colleen bawn" sing during the voyage;
and we all adjourned to the parlor that he might
hear it repeated. Song after song ensued until bed
time, Nora singing the oftenest and the best, in
strains so sweet that they still linger in my memory.

CHAPTEE VIL

THE EXCURSION.

HE little time I had to spend in Ireland, ren-
^ dered it necessary that I should confine my
,;^^^ wanderings to the province of Ulster, and
chiefly to the line of railway extending from London
derry to Belfast. But within that comparatively
circumscribed corapass, may be seen many of the
most interesting objects in the kingdom, including
the ruins of ancient churches and castles, and that
celebrated basaltic formation, one of the greatest
natural curiosities of the old world, known as the
Giant's Causeway.
The object of our excursion to Lough Erne, was to
behold the picturesque scenery of the lakes, and the
ruins of Devenish Island, including the round tower,
said to be the most beautiful in Ireland. Our party
was the same as the dinner party of the night before,
including Father McQuinlan,
" A little round, fat, oily man of God,"

THE EXCURSION. 137
who enjoyed the reputation of being the most learned
antiquarian north of Dublin. Provided with a bas
ket of eatables and a bottle of poteen, we left Derry
in an early train, having a carriage to ourselves ; and
while O'Keeffe and O'Neil went over the reminiscen
ces of their college days. Father McQuinlan and 1
talked of the country through which we were passing,
and Musgrave and Nora made love in the corner.
About fourteen miles from Derry, we reached
Strabane, a municipal borough and market town of
county Tyrone, situated on the Mourne, near its con
fluence with the Finn and Foyle, and immediately
opposite Lifford, the capital of County Donegal. I
was sorry that it was not in my power to make a di
version at this point as far as Lough Derg, a beauti
ful lake about nine miles in circumference, containing
the famous islet of St. Patrick's Purgatory, which is
said to be visited annually by eighteen thousabd
devotees. But for the fear of giving offence, I should
have questioned the " oily man of God" in reference
to the spiritual benefits to be derived from this pil
grimage. I also regretted that I could not spend a day in
Tyrone, of which the O'Neils, (the principal branch
of the family,) were chiefs down to the memorable
rebelUon of Hugh 0' Neil, in the year 1597, known as
the "Tyrone Eebellion," which constitutes an inter-

138 benedict's wanderings.
esting page in Irish history. At Omagh, the capital
of the county, there are the reraains of an old castle,
from which the town derives its name. It was prob
ably a fortified residence of the usual class erected by
the first Scotch setlers in the country, under the regu
lations for the " Plantation of Ulster," which required
" every undertaker of two thousand acres within two
years after the date of his lettei's patent, to build
himself a castle, with a strong court or bawn
about it." The principal edifice of Omagh is the
county court-house, an elegant structure in the
Grecian style of architecture, which, as it stands on a
steep acclivity, presents an imposing appearance.
The town is small, the number of inhabitants being
about three thousand ; but it has been twice de
stroyed by fire, first in 1689, and again in 1743.
We left the train at Enniskillen, the capital of
Fatmanagh, another of the six counties included in
the famous scheme of James I., for the " Plantation of
Ulster," which included five counties of that prov
ince beside Londonderry. This county abounds in
lakes, and was called, in the Irish tongue, Feor-magh-
canagh, "the Country of the Lakes." In the reign
of Elizabeth, it was held by two powerful septs — the
MacManuses and the MacGuires — between whom it
was divided. Being then in a very unsettled
state, — as may be inferred from the following anec-

the excursion. 139'
dote of a chieftain of the latter clan,. — it was made
shire ground, with a view to its proper civilization.
When the lord-deputy gave him notice that he was
about to send a sheriff into his territory, MacGuire
answered, that "her majesty's officer would be re
ceived ; but, at the same time, he desired to know
his eric — the fine to be imposed upon his murderer,
in order that, if he happened to be slain by his fol
lowers, the 'amount might be levied on the offender's
chattels.' '
The plan of our excursion embraced a drive along
the southern shore of the Erne, both the upper and
lower lakes, and a sail to Devenish Island, in the or
der here mentioned. Having engaged a couple of
jaunting cars, our party took a stroll through the
town while the vehicles were being got in readiness.
Enniskillen is well built, mostly on an island in
Lough Erne, and contains a county court-house, jail,
and town-hall, and nearly six thousand inhabitants .
It was founded in 1641, by Sir William Cole, to
whose family it still mostly belongs, and now gives
the title of earl. The inhabitants warmly supported
the Protestant cause in 1689, successfuUy defended
the town against the forces of King James, and the
year afterwards distinguished themselves at the battle
ofthe Boyne.
The place where this celebrated battle was £)ught,

140 benedict's wanderings.
between the forces of Jaraes II. and his son-in-law,
Williara, prince of Orange, (afterwards William III.)
on the banks of the Boyne, between two and three
miles from Drogheda, is now marked by a lofty obelisk.
It will be remembered that this engagement, though
the contending forces were equal, there being thirty
thousand on a side, resulted in the utter overthrow
of King James, who fled to France. Kohl says that,
in this memorable battle, he displayed but little
courage, abandoned the field even before the battle
was decided, and made a ride of unexampled rapidity
through Ireland. He gought to throw the blame of
the whole defeat on the Irish, and exclaimed to Lady
Tyrconnel, a woman of ready wit, whom he met
at the castle of Dublin : " Your countrymen, the
Irish, can run very fast, it raust be owned." The
lady replied, with a weU merited rebuke : " In this,
as in every other respect, your majesty surpasses
them, for you have won the race."
The gaUant regiment known as the " EnniskiUen
Dragoons," was formed from the survivors in this
great engagement. They were then denominated the
" Enniskilliners," and in the city hall are stiU pre
served the banners borne by them in the battle. But
in looking upon these ancient relics, I felt that the
spirit of intolerance, which led the contestants on
that eventful occasion to slaughter each other with-

THE EXCURSION. 141
out discrimination, still exists, in some degree, among
nearly all denominations of Christians. Even our
own little party, so congenial in all other respects,
was not entirely free from its baneful influence ;
Father McQuinlan turned his back upon the colors,
and Musgrave and myself were constrained to regard
them in silence. At that moment I bethought me
of the parting words of Mrs. Barrington to O'Neil,
and was even more deeply impressed with their signifi
cance than when I heard them uttered — " Wide as
our views differ in some respects, the world is wide
enough for us to dwell in in peace ; let us hope that
Heaven is not more circumscribed."

CHAPTEE VIII.

LOUGH ERNE.

toS only three of our party could ride in each
car, we had some little difficulty in dividing
ourselves, — not into pieces, but into trios, —
so as to afford entire satisfaction. The 0' gentlemen
wished to be together again, that they might con
tinue their reminiscences ; the " oily man of God"
and myself, that we might revel again in the regions
of remote antiquity ; and the lovers, that they might
more effectually lose themselves in the misty mazes
of labyrinthine love. It was impossible to complete
the arrangement without separating one of these
couples, and here lay the difficulty. Out of respect
to age, the O's ought not to be deprived of each oth
er's corapany ; it seemed a little cruel to separate the
lovers, who were just beginning to realize,
" There's nothing half so sweet in life
As love's young dream ;''
yet the partiality of the priest, among all devout
Catholics, is never to be overlooked. It will be ob-

LOUGH ERNE. 143
served that I had not taken myself into the consid
eration ; and yet it was impossible to part Father
McQuinlan and myself without depriving him of the
pleasant privilege, so rarely enjoyed, of airing his anti
quarian knowledge. So, it was finally arranged, — the
best that could be done, — that the O's should ride
together one way, and the lovers the other, and that
I, being the only one who would listen to what
0' Keeffe called, not irieverently, "the clack of the
praist," should be left to the " tinder mercies of his
riverence.' '
In making this arrangement, I felt myself very
much in the condition of the Irishman, who chanced
to be present at a dinner where the party consisted of
a father and mother, two sons and two daughters,
and the dinner of two birds. Pat took it upon him
self to carve, and dissevering the heads, he gave one
to each of the jiaients, remarking that the heads
properly belonged to the heads of the family. To
the girls he gave the wings, because, as he said, they
were always flying about ; and the legs to the boys,
who were constantly walking hither and thither, being
farmers. " As for myself," said Pat, " that being all
that's left, I must contint myself wid de bodies."
Out of respect to the priest, the car in which we
were seated took the lead, the other following at a
short distance. In the first drive, Musgrave was of

144 benedict's wanderings.
our party, but he took no part, and possibly not
much interest, in the conversation.
Our course was toward the ocean, along the south
ern shore of the lower Erne, on the road to Ballyshan-
non. The lake was on our right, and on our left a
range of lofty hills, which commence near the town
and extend as far as the pretty Uttle village of Bal-
leck. These hills were richly cultivated, and from
the appearance of the crops, sorae of which were
gathered into shocks, abundantly productive.
Between the road and the water, there is a fertile
valley, thick with trees and underwood, and beyond it
stretches the long and narrow lake with its multi
tude of islands. Of these islands it is said, as it is
of the Thimble Islands on the coast of Connecticut,
that they are as many in number as the days of the
year. Like the group just mentioned, they embrace
a great variety of sizes, from the speck that seems so
small that a man's hat might cover it, to the extent
of several acres. But the largest of the cluster in
Long Island Sound, are small in comparison with
some of those in Lough Erne, which, from the road
have the appearance of well-improved and valuable
farms. And they differ in another respect : while
the Thimble group are all barren, and some of them
bare gray rocks, those of the Erne are all green, some
of them very productive, and some of them the feed-

LOUGH ERNE.

145

ing places of vast flocks of sheep that have grown fat
upon the luxuriant herbage.
Along the whole of the route, the opposite shore
was in full view ; the lake having no greater width
than nine miles, and this at only one place, in the

TinjIiY CASTLE.
vicinity of Tully Castle, which was the extent of our
drive in that direction. This ancient castle stood
upon a promontory that juts out into the lake ; the
site of which may have been selected as well with a
view to the beauty of the prospect, as to the strength
of the situation.
" It is another of the fortified residences erected
by the first Scotch settlers in the country," said

146 benedict's wanderings.
Father McQuinlan. "As you perceive from the
ruins, it contained a keep turrated at the angles, and
was surrounded by a bawn, or outer wall, enclosing a
court yard. According to Pynnar, it was owned and
occupied in 1681, by Sir John Hume, and called
¦ Carrynoe ; and in the bawn dwelt twemty-four fami
lies." Here we descended from the cars and climbed up
the ruins to an elevated position, that we might ob
tain a better view of the prospect, which the reverend
father described as "extensive and inconceivably
beautiful." The lovers, by some invisible attraction,
found their way into each other's society, and were
the last to enter upon the enjoyment of the landscape.
" Those are the ruins of the Castle of Monea," said
Father McQuinlan, pointing to the remains of
another fortess, a few miles to the north-east. " It
was another of the fortified residences of the first
Scotch settlers, and resembles this in its general char
acteristics." Had I been alone, I should have extended my ex
cursion as far as Ballyshannon, the principal town of
Donegal, and the head quarters of the county militia
where may be seen the ruins of the ancient castle of
the Earls of TyrconneU.
" As it is not the salmon-seasun," said Father
McQuinlan, " you may pass it by for the present.

LOUGH ERNE, 147
But you will do well to remember, should you visit
Ireland again, that the salmon-leap of Ballyshannon
is the grandest in the kingdom. The fall is nearly
twenty feet, and it extends entirely across the river,
at that point a hundred and fifty yards wide."
" It seems hardly credible," said I, " that the fish
are able to leap up this fall, and raake their way to
the lake."
" Yet they do," he replied, "and up four others
of less magnitude, one of which, near the village of
Balleck, is the most graceful of cataracts. At the
usual season of their voyaging, they may be counted
by thousands, overcoming these natural barriers to
their passage."
Eeturning, we traveled at a greater speed, and
after stoping at the town for a few minutes to rest
the horses, proceeded along the shore of the upper
lake, where the grace and grandeur of nature is most
wonderfully displayed. It seems too rauch to say, and
yet it is scarcely possible to exaggerate in describing
the surpassing loveliness of the whole locality. Father
McQuinlan was unreserved in his encomiums :
" Though other parts of the county are exceedingly
picturesque, there is none that equals in grace and
loveliness the upper Lough Erne. The Lakes of
Killarney, celebrated ages ago for their romantic beauty
and soft bewitching scenery, and sometimes styled

148 benedict's wanderings.
the tenth Wonder of Ireland, affords hot a mOre beau
tiful landscape than that which we have enjoyed
from the ruins of Tully Castle. Taking Lough
Erne in its length and breadth, there is not in Great
Britain, or in Germany, or even ill Switzerland, more
picturesque prospects, or a more perfect palioram a."

CHAPTEE IX.

THE ROUND TOWER.
^LTOGETHEE, the drive was one of the
pleasantest I ever enjoyed. It was scarcely
i^S^ less gratifying to my companions, O'Neil and
the lovers. Father McQuinlan and Mr. O'Keeffe
had been over the same ground before, the former on
several occasions. To thera it was no longer a nov
elty ; but no one ever tires of the Erne and its vari
ous beauties. The antiquary found special enjoy
ment in pointing out the ruins of time, and the ob
jects of highest attraction, from the best points of ob
servation. As to the " fine ould Irish gintleman" of
Londonderry, he would gladly have done the like, to
the best of his ability ; but the young people were so
interested in each other, that it required an effort to
attract their notice. At first he thought little of it,
and ;from tirae to time, as they advanced, directed
their attention to objects of interest and beauty.
Presently, however, he became wearied or dissatis
fied, and wrapping himself up in his dignity, lapsed
iatb sil^nde.

150 benedict's wanderings.
The young people were too much engaged to notice
the change, and virtually ignored his presence. But
this enabled him the better to observe what he might
not have otherwise discovered, that between these two
there was a growing attachment. It was with sur
prise and apprehension that he made the discovery.
He had looked forward with pleasurable anticipations
to the time when he should find in his niece what he
had never yet enjoyed, a daughter. He had hoped to
have her with him for a year or two, until they had
become closely attached as parent and child. After
that he had in view for her, a settlement in life, as the
wife of the son of one of his most intimates and highly
eeteeraed friends — Terence O'EeiUy, a rising young
barrister of Londonderry.
Now that he perceived the danger, he resolved to
adopt immediate and effectual measures to avert it ;
for, he argued with himself, the longer I permit this
unrestrained familiarity, the more difficult it wiU be
to counteract its influence. At the sarae time, he
was too crafty to act with precipitation, lest he might
occasion alarm and thereby defeat his own plans.
Accordingly, the young people were allowed to occupy
seats together in the boat, and to straggle behind the
rest of the party as we went up from the water to
behold the ruins of Devenish.
This island is about two miles below Enniskillea

the round tower.

151

and is said to contain between seventy and eighty
Irish acres. In itself it is neither picturesque nor
attractive in its appearance. Viewed frora the water,
it presents, in some points, an oval outline in the
gently swelling and sloping ground, and this is the
only beauty it possesses. Owing to the great value of
the land, which is exceedingly fertile, or possibly in
consequence of neglect, it is destitute of trees and
shrubs of nearly every description.

Tins RUINS OF DBVEKISH ISLAND.
On this island are the ruins of three churches, one
of which, known as the Priory, stands near the round
tower. As churches are generally found to accom-

152 benedict's wanderings.
pany these towers, one or the other is supposed to be
an appendage. But whether the tower is an accom
paniment of the church or the church of the tower, is
a question not yet decided.
" The Eound Tower," remarked Father McQuin
lan, " is a prodigious puzzle to antiquarians. It be
longs exclusively to our country, in which no less
than sixty-five have been discovered and described.
These vary in height from thirty-five to a hundred
and twenty feet, the loftiest being those at Dromin-
skin, Fertagh, Kilmacdaugh, Kildare, Kells, and Dev
enish.- Some stand on circular and -some on square
bases, but all taper from the base to a conical cap or
roof, which crowns the summit. Writers have as
signed them to the obscene rites of Paganism ; oth
er writers, to the mystic worship of Druidism ; and
others still, maintain that they were temples of the
fire-worshipers, or standings of the pillar-worshipers.
Again, some contend that they were belfries of the
early Christians ; others, that they were military
strongholds of the Danish invaders ; and others still,
that they were defensive retreats for the native cler
gy, from the sudden inroads of the ruthless Norman.
But all these clever conjectures, some of which are
the result of recondite researches, have led to no satis
factory conclusion. It is the generally received opinion
that the tpver ig ag appepdage to the .chivrCh ; but

THE ROUND tOV/ER. 153
that could not have been the fact in the ruin before
us, as the Priory is comparatively a modern struct
ure. It was built in the year of our Lord 1449, as
this date appears with other circumstances cut in re
lief on a stone, which is buiH into the wall of the
priory-tower ; while the round tower is a construc
tion of a time so remote, that its origin is lost in
antiquity." The tower of Devenish is said to be ninety feet in
height, and at the base forty-eight feet in circumfer
ence. The outline of this tower is beautiful ; indeed,
it is generally regarded as the most beautiful of these
extraordinary constructions in Ireland. It is built of
a light brown sfmd-stone, which is found in the im
mediate neighborhood. This stone is exceUently
adapted for building purposes, as it may be fashioned
to any pattern, and is hardened by exposure to the
atmosphere. Mortar was used to cement the stones,
but the quantity was so small that it can only be dis
covered by a close inspection.
The stones of which the tower was built, were accu
rately cut to correspond with the curve of its con
struction. The summit is built of stones cut in like
manner, and laid on in series, successively diminish
ing till it is crowned by a cap-stone shaped to a cone.
The cornice is divided into four parts, which are
marked by four carved heads, looking toward the

154 benedict's wanderings.
cardinal points. The carvings are neatly wrought,
and each differs from the others in essential particu
lars. About seven feet from the ground there is an open
ing, evidently intended for a door-way ; it is about
four feet high, and has on the inner jamb, on the
left-hand side, an iron hinge strongly fastened in
the stone ; while, a short distance above, on the
same side, is a fractured spot, indicating the place
where the corresponding hinge had been. There are
several openings in the tower, probably windows ;
four of them are close under the cornice, and their
places are marked by the carved heads ; the others
are below them, at different distances..
" In one particular these towers are alike," said
Father McQuinlan, " they are all round in their con
struction. But they differ in some other respects,
two or three of which I have already mentioned.
Usually the doors are frora thirteen to twenty feet
from the ground, the one in this tower being the low
est within my knowledge. In size and shape the
entrances correspond ; they are all so low and nar
row that none can enter, except one at a time by
stooping.' '
Unlike many of the towers that have been discov
ered and described, that on the island of Devenish
was complete, though I observed that the cap-stone

THE ROUNt) TOWER. 1.55
had been loosened. Some seeds of the elder, borne to
the summit by the wind, had there taken root and
flourished ; and the rootshaving penetrated the crev
ices, had forced the stone from its position. To ibis
fact I directed the attention of Father McQuinlan.
" It is some years since the discovery," he replied,
" and with each year the danger has increased. If
something is not done to preserve this interesting
structure, it will not be a great while before""it will
be added to our nuraerous ruins. That of which
Ireland has the most reason to complain is, that
Irishmen are so wanting, in this and other respects,
to themsel^jps and their country."

CHAPTEE X.

STRATEGY.

i-sT^HE boatmen having brought the basket of pro
lyl ^[p
LfflM visions, Nora, with the help of Musgrave,
^S^ spread our lunch upon a broad stone at the base
of the round tower. Meanwhile 0' Keeffe rega;|ied them
with jealousy and apprehension, and pondered in his
mind the best mode of securing their sjjcedy separa
tion. He would have taken Father McQuinlan into
his confidence at the moment, and craved the benefit
of his wisdom and experience, but the holy man was
deep in the denunciation of his countrymen, for their
inexcusable neglect of "the ruins of antiquity. " Only
a few years back," he remarked, "the ruins of the
Priory were much more extensive. But the boys of
the town, so I am informed, have shown much ac
tivity in throwing down the walls and clearing away
the fallen masses. It may be that, in their judgment
these encumbered the ground ; but they should have
been properly instructed in this respect, by their pa-

strategy. 157
rents, who are chiefly to blame for their vandalism.
Time has been to them a mere child in the work of
devastation." Lunch being ready, O'Keeffe invited us to come
forward and replenish. By a little maneuvering, he
placed Nora between Father McQuinlan and myself,
while he endeavored to interest O'N eil and Musgrave
in conversation. It was a shallow device, and only
half succeeded ; the young folks exchanged glances
and occasionally remarks, notwithstanding the sepa
ration. When the meal was over, and the fragments re
placed in the basket, the lovers went together to view
a curious old relic among the weeds — a long, narrow
stone coffin, ages without a tenant. Tradition as
cribes to this relic the virtues ~ of a prophetic talis
man, whereby one raay learn his present and future
state. It is«6aid that, guided by the legend, they
who dare, may read their future weal or woe by lying
down in it, as it flts or otherwise ; and according to
the postures in which they lie aUd turn in it, so read
they of their doom.
While O'Neil and I, with the bottle of poteen be
tween us, was discusing an interesting question in
astronomy, O'Keeffe took Father McQuinlan aside,
and made known his fears in regard to his neice, nbw
hifl' -daughter, Thei priest listened with attention^.

158 benedict's wanderings.
and then advised that the matter should be left to his
management. Our party having gathered about the stone coffin.
Father McQuinlan suggested that it was a good op
portunity to try our fortunes, if we had faith in the
virtues attributed to it by the old peasant-chroniclers.
The proposition was intended for Musgrave, who in
quired particularly as to the posture and position,
and their significance, and then entered the coffin.
One of the boatmen, an old man, who had been car
rying pilgrims to the ruins of Devenish for many
years, and was familiar with the legend, averred that
it was the very best fortune within his recollection.
I can not say that Father McQuinlan had any
thing special in view, but if he had it was frustrated.
Nor do I know certainly that it was at his sugges
tion that O'Keeffe inquired, on our way back in the
railway cars, if I intended to visit Cavan.
" Not," I replied, " unless it Ues within my route,
and contains some object of particular interest."
" It is on the road to Dublin," he replied. " The
town is small, and not well built, though there are a
few good edifices, among which are the court-house
barracks and infirmary. But it is the burial place
and where moulder the bones of Maolmordha O'EeiUy,
chief of a brave and patriotic sept, surnamed ' Myles
the Slasher.' You have read of Myles O'Reilly ?"

strategy. 159
Myles O'EeiUy ! " Private Myles O'EeUly !" How
familiar to my ears ! During tiie Southern Eebellion
and since, no name was better known in America.
The nom de guerre of the lamented Halpine, whose
pen entitled him, as the sword entitled the renowned
Maolmordha, to the significant surname of " Myles
the Slasher."
"I have read," said I, "that hewas a celebrated
partizan and an able captain during the civil wars of
1643 in Ireland ; and that his heroic defence of the
bridge of Finea against the attack of the Scots, then
bearing down on the main army with very superior
force, may be justly corapared with the celebrated
achievement of Leonidas at the pass of Thermopylae."
" Such is the historical record of this great man,"
said O'Keeffe ; " but the exact character of his dar
ing deed ought to be known and remembered. Hav
ing placed hiraself in the center of the pass, he calmly
awaited the approaching host, with the exclamation
of Fitzjames in a similar position —
' Come one, eome all, this rock shall fly
Prom its flrm base as soon as I. '
Standing erect within the gorge, he with his single
hand slew in succession four and twenty assailants ;
but the twenty-fifth, 'A wary, cool, old sworder, took
The blows upon his cutlass,-' and then
His now put in.'

160 benedict's wanderings.
Raising himself in his stirrups, he lunged at the neck
of O'Reilly, who, missing parry, dipped his head and
caught within his teeth his adversary's sword, and
there held it as in a vice ; and then raising his own
powerful arm, lopped off that of his antagonist which
held the sword."
It cost me an eft'ort to hear with gravity the rela
tion of this last feat of the renowned Maolmordha,
but a doubt of its achieveraent had never entered the
mind of his credulous countryman.
" But he was not proof against the cowardly strat
agem to which the enemy resorted," continued
O'Keeffe. "Finding him an isolated man, unap
proachable on level ground, they embarked a company
of halberdiers in a boat, and passing under the bridge
compelled him with their pikes to' quit his post. His
flanks uncovered, he ultiraately fell, the bridge was
crossed, and the battle lost to the Irish. The next
day his body was found among the dead, and taken
by his friends to Cavan, where it was interred with
his ancestors in the monastery originally founded by
them in that town. On his tomb was a Latin in
scription, of which the last two lines were legible at
the period Of the demolition of that splendid monu
ment in the beginning of the nineteenth centuiy, thsu
rendered by one of his ¦descendants :

strategy. 161
' Reader, think not that Myles rests here alone,
His prostrate country lies beneath this stone.' "
" What is there at Cavan to reward the pilgrim,
the tomb of O'EeiUy having been destroyed .?" I en
quired. "What, sure enough." replied O'Keefe. "But
though they have thrown down his monuraent, they
have not destroyed his progeny ; and you shall have
the pleasure of seeing at dinner this evening, one of
his descendants, Terrence O'EeiUy, a young bar
rister of Derry, tall and handsome, graceful and gal
lant, the paragon of Ulster."
Having uttered these words, he looked askance at
Nora, to note their effect. A faint flush overspread
her countenance at the mention of this name ; evi
dently it was not the first time it had been heard.
The effect was noticed by Musgrave, and caused him
some uneasiness.
At dinner that evening were several gentlemen
of Londondeny, and among them Terrence O'EeiUy.
I must do him the justice to say, that the description
of him by O'Keefe, was not in the least exaggerated.
Nor was he indifferent to the attractions, personal and
inteUectual, of the " colleen bawn." Father Mc
Quinlan exerted himself to have her appear to adva n-
tage. The wit and humor of that evening, to which
Musgrave and O'EeiUy contributed their full share

162

benedict's wanderings.

in the spirit of rivalry, I have never heard excelled.
As on the morrow O'Neil was to take his departure
for home, and Musgrave and myself to bear him com
pany as far as Belfast, we made what they call in
that country, "a night ofit." But not having a
very distinct recollection of what followed, I shall
leave it to the reader's imagination.

CHAPTEE XL

MAN PROPOSES.

iHE next morning was bright and beautiful,
and the " colleen bawn" was like the mofning,
^^ffi only brighter and more beautiful. At least so
thought Musgrave as he looked forth from his win
dow and beheld her alone on the terrace, her fair hair,
tinged -with the golden glow of the sun, hanging
about her neck and shoulders in clusters of curls. It
was only the second morning of her life in London
derry, yet she had already selected -as a place of pi'om-
enade, a shaded walk on the terrace. Commanding an
extensive view of the city and country. At that mo
ment she was absorbed in the contemplation' of the
picturesque prospect.
The light foot-fall of Musgrave on the graveled
walk recalled her to consciousness, and hef face
flushed a little in his presence. Wa;s she rejoiced to
have him meet her there alone, or had he surprised
her in the midst of tender thoughts for Terrence
O'EeiUy .? Lovers are hopeful, and he appropriated

164 benedict's wanderings.
the fornier conclusion without the labor of ratiocina
tion. Knowing that it would be his only opportu
nity, he began to pour forth his love in a torrent of
honied phraseology such as she had never imagined
in her wildest anticipations.
For a while she listened, delighted, entranced ;
then, conscious that her silence was giving encourage
ment, she checked him with a gentle interruption.
It was, she said, so sudden, so unexpected, upon so
short an acquaintance ; and she knew so little of her
uncle, or of his ways and wishes, or of his plans and
prospects for her  Musgrave could endure no more ;
he burst forth again with his bewitching eloquence,
and showered so many flattering encomiuras upon her
pretty head, that the poor girl was completely be
wildered. Suddenly, from a cross-walk, concealed by a clump
of bushes, appeared Mr. 0' Keeff'e. Whether he had
heard their conversation, they were unable to conjec
ture. He greeted them with unusual cordiality, and
then pointed out the objects in view of principal in
terest. Musgrave felt that he had been deprived of
his opportunity, for the old gentleman continued to
designate the beauties of the landscape until break
fast was announced.
After breakfast came the partings. Mr. O'Keeffe
was profuse of his compliments. He invited 0' Neil

MAN PROPOSES. 165
to come and make him a long visit, and hoped that
I, on my return from Belfast, would gratify him with
a day or two of what he was pleased to term my " ex
cellent society." He was about to bid Musgrave a
simple adieu, when a supplicating look from Nora
brought a tear to his eye, — of affection it may have
been, or it may have been of regret, — but it secured
a similar invitation.
But the young man felt that it was forced, and his
sensitive nature revolted at what he regarded as a
slight from the " fine ould Irish gintleman' ' of Lon
donderry. Yet he concealed his chagrin, and when
our hospitable host proposed " one bumper at part
ing," he gallantly repeated from Moore's melody of
of that title, with peculiar stress upon certain por
tions — " As onvMrd we journey, how pleasant
To pause and inhabit a while
Those few sunny spots, like the present,
That 'mid the dull wilderness smile ! '
But time, like a pitiless master,
Cries ' Onward !' and spurs the gay hours,
And never does Time travel faster
Than when his way lies among flowers.
But come, may our life's happy raeasure
Be all of such moments made up ;
They're born on the bosom of pleasure,
They die 'midst the tears of the cup."
Still smarting under the slight, for the first few
mil6B Musgrave was silent; but as we approached

166 benedict's wanderings.
Omagh, he signified his intention of parting from us,
that he might visit Clones and Monaghan.
"And for what.?" said O'Neil. '^ There is noth
ing of interest at either place."
'* 0, yes," repUed Musgrave. " Near the former
town are numerous antiquities, including an abbey
founded in the sixteenth century ; and near the lat
ter, the ruins of an old fort erected by Queen Eliza
beth." " At a very early period," replied O'Neil, " an
abbey was founded in Monaghan, and in the ninth
century it was pillaged and destroyed. It was on the
very spot where that Christian edifice stood, that her
majesty erected the fort as a defence against the
Irish." There was so much bitterness in the tone of O'Neil,
especially in the utterance of the second sentence,
that Musgrave did not venture another remark on the
subject, lest he might again run counter to his preju
dices. Anciently, county Monaghan was called " McMa-
hon's country," from the powerful sept by whom it
was ruled, and by whom fierce opposition was made to
its settlement by the EngUsh. An anecdote is told to
iUustrate the character of their opposition. The earl
iest of the JIngUsh settlers hamng entered iig^to a
treaty with Hke ftati-ve chieftain, confid^eij to him tyfo

MAN PROPOSES. 167
forts which he had built ; but McMahon soon after
deserted and destroyed them, and when questioned
concerning his breach of faith, proudly answered that
"he had not bound himself to keep stone walls,
while his native woods were so near to give him shel
ter and afford him protection." The opposition of
this sept continued do-wn to the reign of Elizabeth,
during which the chieftain of the clan was captured
and hung, and the territory made . shire-ground and
divided according to the present baronial arrange
ment.

CHAPTEE XII.

ST. PATRICK'S CITY.

RAVING persuaded Musgrave to abandon his
contemplated desertion, we proceeded together
-jMJ to the city of Arraagh, — in the Irish tongue,
Ardmagha, "the lofty ground," — the capital of
county Armagh, (one of the counties forfeited to the
crown after the reduction of the Earl of Tyrone,) and
the archieopiscopal seat of " all Ireland."
" Is it not claimed for this city," inquired Mus
grave, " that it was founded by St. Patrick in the
fifth century .?"
"Yes," answered O'Neil, "and I believe -with suffi
cient reason. It is a very ancient city, and if you de
sire, as we passed by Clones and Monaghan, we can
stop over here until the next train, and stiU have
time to reach Belfast before sundown."
As Armagh was said to contain many objects of in
terest, I was in favor of the diversion. Leaving the
cars, we entered the city by one of the principal
strbets, and directed our footsteps to the cathedi-al.

ST. Patrick's city. 169
As we progressed, O'Neil pointed out the principal
edifices, among which I remember the county court
house, lunatic asylum, prison, infirmary and a bar
racks said to be capable of accoramodating eight hun
dred men. Some of these as also some of the churches
.present a fine appearance, seen from the railway ; and
being built of hard red marble, like most of the
dwelUng-houses, contain the elements of durability.
Viewed from the- cathedral, whence the streets 'diverge
down the sides of a hill, the prospect is pleasant and
peculiar. By the munificence of Lord Eokeby, a late arch
bishop, the city of Arraagh, which had becorae very
much decayed, was restored and advanced. Among
other improvements, he built a handsome palace, one
of the finest edifices in the city ; and a large school
house, to which he added a public library for the pro
motion of science, which contained at the time of my
visit upwards of fourteen thousand volumes. He also
erected an observatory, with fine aparatus and a lib
eral income for an astronomer, securing the endow
ments by -several acts of the legislature.
The cathedral of Armagh — the original edifice —
was erected by St. Patrick, according to received au
thority, in the year 445. It is described in a life of
the founder, as an oblong structure, one hundred and
forty feet in length, and divided into nave and choir.

170 benedict's wanderings.
according to the custom of all the ancient Catholic
churches. This sacred edifice did not escape the sac-
religious devastations of the northern invaders, by
whom it was pillaged and burned, together -with the
other buildings of the city, in 839 and again in 850.
In 890 it was partly broken down by the Danes of
DubUn, under the command of Gluniarn. In 995,
it was burned by an accidental conflagration, generated
by Ughtning. After this fire it was repaired in part,
and was again burnt in 1020. In 1125, the roof vas
repaired -svith tiles, by the Primate Celsus, and a more
perfect restoration was effected by the Primate Gela
sius in 1145. Thence this venerable remain appears
to have suffered little, save from age, till the seven
teenth century, when on the 2d of May, in the year
1642, it was burned by Sir Phelim O'Neill. No other
church was ever known _to suffer so many conflagra
tions. After its destruction by O'NeiU, it was deemed no
longer serviceable, and the present church was erected
on its site, in 1675, by the benevolent Archbishop
Margetson. It is in the Gothic style, a stately struc
ture, the grandest in the city, and from its superior
situation by far the raost imposing edifice. In forin
and size, it differs from its ancient predecessor, its
shape being that of a cross, and its interior measure
ments one hundred and eighty-three feet and six

ST. Patrick's city. 171
inches in length from east to west, and its breath in
transcepts, one hundred and nineteen feet from north
to south. The interior is ornamented with several
splendid monuments, the most remarkable for beauty
and costUness, being that of the pious, worthy, and
learned Dean Drelincourt, a work of the famous
sculptor Eysbrack. The other monuments most
worthy of notice, are those of William Viscount
Charlemont, who died in 1671, and his father, Wil
liam Baron Caulfield ; Eev. Dr. Jenny, rector of the
parish, who died in 1758 ; Rev. Thomas Carpendale,
master of the endowed classic school of Armagh,
erected in 1818 ; and a beautiful bust of Primate
Eobinson, by Bacon.
Unfortunately the monuments for which the old
cathedral was celebrated, no longer remain. They
were destroyed when the edifice was demolished,
though some of thera deserved a better fate at the
hands of posterity. The raost precious were those of
the intrepid heroes of Clontarf, the venerable Brien
Boiroimhe, his son Murrough, his grand son Tur-
lough, his nephew Conan, and his friend Methlin,
Prince of Waterford. In the old cathedtal, their bod
ies, which had been conveyed thither by the clergy,
lay in funeral state for twelve successive nights, during
which, psalms, hymns, and prayers, according to the
ritual of the church of Eome, were chanted for their
souls. B

CHAPTEE XIII.

BRIEN THE BRAVE.

I^^^TANDING above the spot where it is said the
^OTI body of Brien Boiroimhe was deposited in the
.^^K earth nearly nine centuries ago, and recalling
his labors of a Ufe-time for the promotion of ci-vil and
reUgious liberty, the estabUshment of just and equal
laws, and the dissemination of learning, I could not
wonder at the pride which thrills the breast of every
true Irishman, at the mention of the name of that
marvelous monarch. To how many are the words of
the war song famiUar, and how many has it inspired
-with the hope of their country's liberation from the
gaUing yoke of British tyrany —
" Remember the glories of Brien the brave,
Though the days of the hero are o'er ;
Thougli lost to Mononia, and cold in the grave,
He returns to Kiukora no more !
That star of the field which so often has pour'd
Its beams on the battle, is set ;
Svi enough of its glory remains on each sword
To light us io glory yet,"
Brien Boiroimhe, of the house of Heremon, one of
the most iUustrious kings of Ireland, — it is scarcely

brien THE BRAVE. 173
too much to say the most iUustrious, — was born in the
year 926, and commenced his reign in Munster, in the
thirty-ninth year of his age. The length of his reign
was forty-nine years, the first thirty-seven as king of
Munster, and the last twelve as monarch of Ireland.
He succeeded Malichi of Meath, or rather dethroned
that monarch, who, though, renowned in song and
history for his valorous achievements, was "unable to
unite the pro-vincial kings against the Danes who
had invaded the island and usurped a portion of its
territory. Brien was a man of indominable will and bravery,
and having defeated the. Danes at Glenananin, where
he left six thousand slain and razed their city, he re
ceived assurances that if he would assume the national
crown, the generality of the princes would rally under
his standard. The progress the Danes were making in
the country, demanded a unity of the people, and the
princes of Connaught and Munster decreed that Mal
ichi should be dethroned, and the sceptre transferred
to Brien, a prince, King of Munster, whom they be
lieved capable of repressing the insolence of those
barbarians. Thereupon Brien marched an army to
Tara, the seat of the Irish monarchs, compeUed Mali
chi to abdicate, and was declared monarch of the
whole island in the year 1002. Having received the

174 benedict's wanderings.
fealty of O'Conor, King of Connought, he marched to
Ulster, where he received high honor from Malms
bury, Archbishop of that See, and was acknowledged
monarch by Hugh O'Neil, King of Ulster.
Having settled the affairs of the nation by an as
sembly of bishops and nobles, who solemnly crowned
him moaak'ch of Ireland, he entered upon the dis
charge of'his duties with wisdom and discretion, and
enacted for the public welfare laws that were every
where respected throughout the kingdom. It is his
torically state-d, that the people were inspired wilh
such a spirit of honor, -virtue, and religion, by his
great example and excellent administration, that, as a
proof of it, a young lady of great beauty, adorned with
jewels and costly dress, undertook a journey alone,
from one end of the kingdom to the other, -with a
wand only in her hand, at the top of which was a ring
of exceeding great value ; and such an impression had
the laws and government of this monarch made on the
minds of all the people, that no attempt was made
upon her honor, nor was she robbed of her clothes or
jewels. The following ballad of Moore was founded
upon this anecdote :
" Rich and rare were the gems she wore.
And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore ;
But oh ! her beauty was far beyond
Her sparkling gems or snow-white wandr

brien THB Srave. 175
" Lady ! dost thou not fear to stray,
So lone and lonely, through this bleak way ?
Are Erin's sons so good or so cold.
As not to be tempted by woman or gold ?"
" Sir Knight ! I feel not the least alarm.
No son of Erin will ofier me harm —
For though they .love woman and golden store,
Sir Knight, they love honor and virtue more."
On she went, and her maiden smile
In safety lighted her round the Green Isle.
And blest forever is she who relied
Upon Erin's honor, and Erin's pride.
Perhaps no kingdom ever flourished at a more
rapid rate during any one reign than did Ireland un
der Brien. He restored the church property, and to
the old proprietors their possessions ; he rebuilt the
monasteries, reestablished universities and public
schools, and encouraged science and literature ; he
placed garrisons for public safety, caused good roads
and bridges to be built, and did whaliever else he
thought would conduce to the welfare of his people.
It has been the curse of Ireland, that her haughty
chieftains were prone to quarrel with each other,
sometimes for reasons of the silliest character. Even
the great Brien did not escape this general misfor
tune. His wife -was the sister of Maolmorda, prince
of Leinster, who,pame to Brien to visit his sister and
pay him the obedience due from a provincial prince
to the monarch of Ireland. For this act of duty he
was reproved by his sister, who- high in her fancied

176 benedict's wanderings.
dignity of blood, would not suffer her brother to bend
before her husband. A coolness ensued, and dislike,
ending in strife ; and the Danes, availing themselves
of the dissension, sent Maolmorda secret supplies of
men and arms to resist the authority of the monarch.
Another version of the quarrel is, that Maolmorda,
while on a visit to his sister, was insulted by Mur
rough, the eldest son of the monarch ; and leaving
the palace in high dudgeon, he entered into an alli
ance with Sitrick, king of the Danes of Dublin, who,
by express to Denmark, secured a large army from
that country.
However the fact may be, it is certain that the
prince of Leinster joined the Danes, and fought with
them at Clontarf, where he was slain. Historians
differ as to the number of troops engaged in that
great battle, which took place on Good Friday, April
23, 1014. Nor do they agree as to the number of
slain, one account being seven thousand Irish and
thirteen thousand Danes, and another ten thousand
Irish and fourteen thousand Danes.
Though in the eighty-eighth year of his age, Brien
addressed his troops before the battle, and would have
conducted them in the fight, had not his chiefs inter
posed, and implored him, on accoutt of his age, to
leave the command to his son, the valliant Murrou^-h.
With this request he 'unwilliijgly complied, aud re-

brien the brave. 177-
tiring to his tent, prayed while the battle lasted. He
was still at prayer when a party of runaway Danes,
led by Broder, attacked him ; but seizing his sword;
he cut off the head of the leader, the legs of another,
and even slew a third, and then calmly resigned him
self to death.
Brien, and his son Murrough, and his grandson
Turlough, were buried at Swords, but their remains
were afterwards removed, by order of the Bishop, in
accordance with the will of the monarch, to Armagh,
where they were entombed in St. Patrick's cathedral.
Brien Boiroimhe commanded in twenty-nine pitch
ed battles against the Danes, and obtained many
victories, the last of which, Clontarf, extinguished
their power in Ireland.

CHAPTEE XIV.

THE NEW CITY.

^ELFAST, though an ancient town, is com
paratively a new city. When or by whom it
was founded, is not known. As early as 1315,
it is spoken of as among the " good towns and strong
holds" destroyed by Edward Bruce. The castle of
Belfast was reduced to a ruin in 1503, and again in
1512, by Lord Kildare. In the seventeenth century,
it ranked as a small garrison town, " dependent on
Carrickerngjis," and as late as 1660, contained but a
hundred and fifty houses. In 1720, all the houses
were on one street, and thatched with straw, and in
1800 the population did not exceed twenty thousand.
Since that period its growth, in the old world, has
been unprecedented. The present population is not
much if any short of one^'hundred and fifty thousand.
Seen at a distance, the city does not present an
imposing appearance, owing to the very low position
it occupies. It is situated near the mouth of the
Lagan, and the greater portion of it is not more than

THE NEW CI1?Y.

179

six feet above high water at the spring tides. But I
observed that it improved as we approached, and the
unfavorable impression received at first sight was
gradually removed. The houses are mostly con-

CITY OF BELFAST.

structed of brick, and sorae of thom are quite
handsome, while some of the public buildings are su
perior structures. Among these are the custom
house, post-office, blind asylum, a new and elegant
edifice, and the office of the harbor commissioners,
one of the most graceful and gorgeous buildings in
the city, constructed of cut stone, and finished in the
Italian style.

180 benedict's wanderings.
In this city are upwards of forty church edifices,
the most expensive and elegant of which are St.
Patrick's Cathedral, and the First Presbyterian
Meeting-house, in Eosemary street, the latter excell
ing in erabeUishments. The entrance to this edifice
is a portico, composed of ten Doric columns, vrith an
elaborate balustrade, while the inside is richly orna
mented in stucco, and gorgeously decorated. Beside
this there are twenty other edifices belonging to that
denomination, Belfast being a sort of ecclesiastical
metropolis for the Presbyterians, where their synods
meet, where their publications are issued, and where
they possess the greatest amount of wealth and
talent. The educational institutions are among the best in
the country. At the head of these is the Queen's
college, a magnificent structure of brick and stone,
built at an expense of more than twenty-five thou
sand pounds, and maintained by an allowance of seven
thousand pounds a year from the consolidated fund.
From the collegiate body of this institution, which '
consists of a president, vice-president and twenty
professors, was obtained the president of New Jersey
College, Princeton, the Eev. Dr. McCosh. Of the
other educational establishraents, the most worthy of
mention are the Presbyterian College, a magnificent
building, the Eoyal Academical Institution, the Bel
fast Academy, and the Lancasterian School. But

THE NEW CITY. 181
beside these, there are numerous national schools and
private seminaries.
Tt was not until the foUo-wing day I made most of
these observations, though some of them were una
voidable on our way to the Imperial, the hotel at
which O'Neil usually sojourned. After dinner I went
to call on Mrs. Barrington, according to the promise
I had made her at Londonderry. She received me
with very marked cordiality, and introduced me to
her son, a prosperous young merchant, to whom I am
indebted for kind attention, valuable information,
and an easy agreeable jaunt about the city on the
foUo-wing day.
" You are alone ?" inquired Mrs. Barrington.
" Here .? yes," I repUed. " But to the city I had
the company of our friends O'Neil and Musgrave."
" Bad company !" said the old lady. " That young
fellow is a scape-grace ; and O'Neil — well, perhaps I
had better not say anything against him, lest he re
taliate. We are antipodes — he a Papist, and I a
Presbyterian." While speaking, she wrote a few words on a card,
which she gave to a servant, with the brief injunc
tion, " Forthwith," and then continued the conversa
tion. " Did you stop at Armagh, the city of St. Pat
rick .?" she inquired.

182 benedict's wanderings.
" Yes," I repUed, " that I might view the city and
country from the steps of the edifice which now stands
upon the site of his celebrated cathedral, and that I
might walk upon the ground trod by his feet as long
ago as thirteen centuries."
" Humph !" she exclaimed. " You have seen his
city and his church, and to-morrow O'Neil will show
you his burial place. Well, I do not object ; he was
a great and good man, and perhaps as worthy as any
since the Apostles, of canonization. And did you
see the Diamond ?"
" The Diamond ? no," I replied :
" It is a noted place," said Mrs. Barrington ; and
then she added, with a Uttle laugh, " but O'Neil' s
memory is partial. It is the spot where originated
the Orange Societies."
One word concerning this famous organization, for
the benefit of such as are not familiar with its origin
and history. Near the close of the last century,
when the French republic was preparing to make a
descent upon Ireland, the CathoUcs of Ulster asso
ciated themselves under the title of "Defenders,"
deeming it a favorable time to dissever their connec
tion with England. The penal laws prohibiting them
from keeping arms, they were driven to the necessity
of taking them forcibly at night. The Protestants
becoming alarmed, patrolled the country in small

THB NBW CITY. 183
armed bodies to prevent the robbery. Two of these'
parties coming in contact at the Diamond, in Sep
tember, 1795, a conflict ensued, in which several lives
were lost. Other affrays followed, resulting in a ter
rible state of insubordination, out of which arose the
Orange societies, so called from William, the Prince of
Orange, the leader of the Irish Protestants in 1689.
So effective were these institutions in Armagh, that
they received the encouragement of the gentry of the
neighborhood ; after which lodges were established in
other parts of Ireland, in England and Scotland, and
even in the colonies. It was estimated that, at one
time, in the United Kingdom alone, the Orangmen
numbered no less than two hundred and fifty thousand
members. Finally, in the year 1836, in accordance
with public sentiment, a meeting ofthe Grand Lodge
of the order was sumraoned, and by a vote of ninety-
two to sixty-two, the institution was formally dis
solved. After a few inquiries concerning " that bright and
beautiful girl, Miss Nora M'Kenna," as Mrs. Bar
rington styled her, our conversation turned upon
Bachelor and the young ladies of whom he was enam
ored. She was of my opinion, that " the captain's
daughter" was engaged, and that " the ship's beauty "
was a coquette. We were deep in the discussion of

184 benedict's wanderings.
these matters, when O'Neil and Musgrave were an
nounced. A very remarkable woraan ! At the very moment
she was calUng one a Papist and the other a scape
grace, she was writing them an invitation to spend
the evening at her hmse. In welcoming them, she
remarked that, though they and she might differed on
sorae subjects, there were enough upon which they
could harraonize. Profiting by the hint, no iUusion
was made to any topic concerning which there could
be an unpleasant difference of opinion. I have
rarely spent a more enjoyable evening, or one in
which pleasantry was so marked a characteristic of the
conversation.

CHAPTEE XV.

TOWN AND COUNTRY.

;00N after breakfast the next morning, in ac
cordance with a plan agreed upon the night
^^•& before, Mrs. Barrington, with her son to bear
us company, took Musgrav^^ and myself in her carriage,
a curious but comfortable old vehicle, and carried us
to nearly every place she thought of interest in the
city. First of all, we were shown the Bay of Belfast,
of which the citizens of the metropolis of the north
are very proud, and justly too, for it is a fine object.
It is bounded on both sides by high hills, which partly
encircle the city, most of which are now under culti
vation, while their slopes are thickly studded with the
-villas and country houses of the raerchants. The bay
is eight miles -wide at the mouth, and gradually nar
rows to the mouth of the river, thirteen and a half
miles from the ocean. The river in front of the city
is two hundred and fifty yards wide, and is crossed by
three bridges, two of which are not entitled to any
special notice, while the third — one of the observable

186 benedict's wanderings.
objects — ^is an elegant stone structure of five arches,
each of fifty feet span.
Having viewed the harbor with its large shipping,
second only to that of Dublin, we took a survey of
the superb structure in which the harbor commission-
ers have their offices, and then proceeded to visit the
educational institutions, and afterwards the churches,
all of which I have already mentioned and sufficiently
described. One of these churches, a Presbyterian
edifice, — though I have forgotten which one, there are
so raany of that denomination, — Mrs. Barrington
pointed out to me as the house in which originated
the great temperance reformation in Ireland.
"It was in 1829, the same year it commenced in your
own country," she remarked. " The pastor of that
church, Eev. John Edgar, D.D., a man distinguished
for his superior abilities, had been appointed to write
an address to the people against ther desecration of
the Sabbath. While engaged in its preparation, he
was visited by Dr. Penny, of America, who told him
of the great temperance movement in the United
States. Dr. Edgar iraraediately prepared and pub
lished an appeal to the people in behalf of teraperance
societies. That was in August, and before three
years had elapsed, upwards of two hundred and
thirty thousand small works on Temperance bad been
issued from the press of Belfast."

TOWN AND COUNTRY. 187
I was truly surprised at the vast number of publi
cations in so brief a period, on a subject which now-
a-days we regard as hackneyed ; but I could not re
press a smile at the pride manifested by the -old' lady
in making the statement.
" I see," said she. " You deem so many works a
superflu^^ty. But you will not when I tell you that in
the very year of the reformation, raore than twenty-
seven million five hundred thousand gallons of proof
spirits were consumed in the United Kingdom, the
cost of Ireland's share being over six millions ster
ling, nv an average of three guineas for each family.'
In another part of the city, Mrs. Barrington
pointed out an old building, kept by repairs in a
ve.ry good st^te of preservation, with the remark : " I
cannot hope to vie with our friend O'Neil in the dis
play of antiquities ; but in that old building, it is
said, was printed the first Biblp ever published in
Ireland, in the year 1704."
Araon.g the other places of n,ote we visited, was the
Belfast Museura, a very beautiful bpilding, contain
ing a large coUection of Irish antiquities, and the
Botanical Garden, next to that of Dublin the finest
in Ireland. Another building of attractive appear
ance, was the l^ank of Belfast, the. .style of architec
ture being a mixture of fionc ^nd Coripthian.
At lengthj l^avjpg an engagement with P'Fl^!^ ^9''

188 benedict's wanderings.
the afternoon, Musgrave and I were obliged to return
without having seen all the notable places. We had
our lunch at the house of Mrs. Barrington, a delicious
repast, and remained in conversation with her until
O'Neil called at the door to take us in a jaunting-car
to the country.
The first object we visited was Cave Hill, about
two miles from the city. It takes its name from three
caves, visible on its perpendicular side, but of no con
siderable magnitude. It is chiefly attractive for thc
magnificent view which it affords of the surrounding
country. On the surarait is a dilapidated <;arth work,
of which O'Neil said : " Here are the ruins of one of
the strong-holds of Brian M'Art, a brave man, whose
clan was exterminated in the reign of Queen Eliza
beth." From Cave Hill we proceeded to Castlereagh,
another hill about the same distance from the city.
On the latter, for a very long period, stood a curious
piece of antiquity, the stone chair on which the
O'Neils, of Castlereagh, were inaugurated. After des
ignating the place which it is supposed to have occu
pied, 0' Neil gave us an account of its subsequent ad
ventures. "Con O'NeU," said he, "was the last chief of
Castlereagh, the branch of the family from which I
descended. After his ruin and the downfall of his

TOWN AND COUNTRY.

189

family, in the reign of James I., the coronation chair
was thrown down by his enemies. In this condition
it remained until about the year 1650, when Stewart
Banks, Sovereign of Belfast, caused it to be removed
to the town and built into the wall of the Butter
Market, where it was used as a seat for nearly two

THE CORONATION CnAIR.
centuries. A few years ago, at the taking down of
the market, it was mixed with other stones and
rubbish, and was about to be broken, when Thomas
Fitzmorris took possession of it, and removed it to a
little garden in front of his house, in Lancaster street,
Belfast. There it reraained until 1858, when it was
purchased frora him for a young gentleman of culti
vated mind and elegant tastes, E. C. Walker, of

190 benedict's WAN1)EE1NGS.
Granby Eow, Dublin, and Eathcarrick, in the county
of SUgo, who had it removed to the latter place,
where it is preserved with the care due to so interest.
ing a monument."
" What was the appearance of this coronation
chair .?" I inquired.
" It was made of coramon whin-stone," replied
O'Neil. " The seat was a little lower than that of an
ordinary chair, and the back higher and narrower.
Of course it was rudely constructed."
" There is no question respecting its antiquity .?"
queried Musgrave.
" There is none respecting its authenticity," repUed
O'Neil, proudly. " The branch of the O'Neils to
whom it appertained, shot off from the parent stem in
the tenth century, and is still represented by the pres
ent Earl O'Neil. The chair raay have belonged to
the ancient chiefs of the district ; to that extent there
is doubt concerning its antiquity. There was, and
probably still is, another stone chair on which the
O'Neils of Tyrone, the chief branch of the family,
were inaugurated. It is marked in some of our maps
under the name of ' the stone where they make the
O'Neils.' "

CHAPTEE XVI.

ST. PATRICK'S HOME.

|)FTEE visiting two or three other places of less
note and no especial interest, we returned in
j„.«.-^ time for the train to Downpatrick, the capi
tal of county Down, near the mouth of the Quoyle,
where we arrived while it was yet light enough to dis
tinguish objects and beauties. It is one of the oldest
toWns in Ireland, and one of the most noted, having
been the established residence of the native kings of
Ulster, and the dwelling place of St. Patrick. Indeed,
it was here the patron saint died and was buried, in
the year 493, his remains being deposited in the abbey
of Down, as were, subsequently, those of St. Bridget
and St. Columb-kill. The town consists chiefly of
four streets, and is divided into English, Irish and
Scotch quarters, coiresponding to the nativity of the
inhabitants. O'Neil resided in the Irish quarter, and
Uke his royal ancestors, was a king in his domin
ion. He lived in good style, and kept his carriage, if
any thing more antique than Mrs. Barrington's, upon

192 benedict's wanderings.
which was the escutcheon of the O'Neil's — the Eed
Hand. In the parlor of his house, hung a large pic
ture of the ensigns armorial of this distin^ished
family, entitled underneath — " The Bloody Hand."
Observing that my attention was at
tracted by this picture, O'Neil said :
"It represents the incident that led to
the ascendency of the O'Neils. When
Ireland was conquered by the Milesians, it was per
mitted to the party who descended upon Ulster, that
the one who should first touch the ground should be
its chief As they approached the shore, O'Neil, one
of their number, cut off his hand and threw it on the
bank. It was decreed that he was entitled to the
distinction, and frora him sprung the royal race. It
is an authentic representation of the ancient arms of
the family, copied from the signet ring of tlie cele
brated Turlogh Lynnoch, found a few years ago
near Charlemont, in the county of Armagh."
As we were not expected at Donnpatrick, until the
day following, dinner had been served at the usual
hour, and was over before our arrival ; but to make
amends, we had an early supper. The family of our
host consisted of his wife, a very dignified lady, and
two daughters, fifteen and seventeen, somewhat bash
ful, but well instructed and intelligent ; of course not

ST. Patrick's home. 193
to the extent of Nora M'Kenna, whose father had
spared no expense on her education.
After supper the young ladies entertained us with
some Irish music, both vocal and instrumental. The
elder played us a native air on the bagpipe — the
Irish bagpipe, a soft and melodious instrument, very
unUke that which the Highland Scotch use in bat
tle, — and the younger, using the harp as' an accom
paniment, sang us in the most touching. manner, that
famous melody of Moore :
" The harp that once through Tara's halls
The soul of musi.c shed,
Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls
As if that soul were fled.
So sleeps the pride of former days,
So glory's thrill is o'er,
And hearts that once beat high for praise,
Now feel that pulse no more.
No more to chiefs and ladies bright
The harp of Tara swells ;
The cord alone that breaks at night,
Its tale of ruin tells.
Thus freedom now so seldom wakes,
The only throb she gives
Is when some heart indignant breaks,
To show that still she lives.
" No one can realize how true and touching are
these words," said O'Neil, " until he beholds the
ruins of the Hill of Tara, in remote antiquity the
chief seat of the Irish monarchs, whence the laws for
the government of Ireland were promulgated down to

194

benedict's wanderings.

the middle of the sixth century, during which period
there reigned over Ireland one hundred and forty-two
monarchs, the last six of whom were Christians.
Nothing whatever reraains of its former grandeur and
glory, and the spot is now marked by a pillar of
modern construction.

HILI. or TAE.i.

" On the Hill of Tara stood tJie famous coronation
chair of the monarchs of Ireland, called ' The Fatal
Stone.' This mode of inauguration is of very remote
antiquity in Ireland, and is believed to have been in
troduced even before the arriyi^l of tJ^e Milesians, by
the Tuatha de Danan colony, who brought the stone
with them into Ireland. It was supposed that in
whatever country this stone was preserved, a prince
of the Scythian race would govern, an^ in Qonger
quence it was sent to Scotland for the coronation of
FerguSj first king Of the gcdts, who was of the blood

ST. Patrick's home. 195'
royal of Ireland. Thence it was used in the corona
tion of the Scottish kings at Scone, down to 1296,
when it was conveyed to London by Edward the Con
fessor, and placed in Westminister Abbey, where it
has been ever since appropriated to the inaguration
ofthe monarchs of Great Britain."
At this point, Mrs. O'Neil interupted her husband,
to inform him that a suppliant was at the door.
"Who is it ?" said O'Neil. A young fellow, of
twenty-five years perhaps, stepped upon the thresh
hold and said : " Teddy Conron, your tinant, is dead.
An' if you'd have no objection, why, I'd slip up a while
to the house. He's a distant relation of my own, and
blood's thicker than wather, you know. An' thin,
let me see, it's two or three years, any how, since I've
been to a wake."
" You can go," said O'Neil. " But stay a bit.
Bridget, bring me a jug that will hold a gallon. I'll
give ye something, Barney, to keep your eyes open to
the peep of day."
O'Neil passed from the room, and after a few min
utes returned with a jug of poteen, which he put
down by Barney, saying : " It will taste just as well if
my name is not raentioned."
"A thousand thanks to your honor," said Barney,
plucking his fore-lock, " for it's a fine prisent, to be
sure ; but divil a drap of it -will ever enter any man's

196 benedict's wanderings.
mouth till he spakes the praises of the giver." So
saying, he took up the jug and trudged away.
O'Neil smiled, and when Barney was beyond ear
shot, inquired of me — " Have you ever been at a
wake .?" " An Irish wake .? — never," I replied.
"Well," said he, "at bedtime we'll look in for" a
moment upon the watchers."

CHAPTEE XVII.

THE IRISH WAKE.

|HE intermediate time having been spent in
song-singing, in which Musgrave and I par-
^gn ticipated, he at least with credit, — I sing best
on the ocean, — at about ten o'clock, 0' Neil and ray
self (Musgrave being weary preferred to retire) went
u^ to the house in which lay the corpse of Teddy
Conron. The doors and windows being open, I saw
as we approached, that the room was full of men and
women, nearly all in a high state of excitement. On
a table in the center of the room, stood the jug O'Neil
had given to Barney, steaming at the mouth, for the
poteen had been converted into punch, and by the
side of the jug was a dish of tobacco. Around these
were glasses and pipes, from which the people pres
ent drank and smoked as much and as often as they
desired. As we entered the house, I was nearly suf
focated with the fumes of tobacco smoke, snuff and
whiskey.

19^

benedict's wanderings.

The appearance of O'Neil was the signal for a gen
eral bur^ of grief among the relatives of the deceased,
who chanted mournfully, in Irish, some rising
to their feet and swinging their arms, as if in the
greatest possible distress ; and I should certainly
have thought them so, had I not seen them but a

the IRISH WAKE.

moment before, drinking and smoking without either
cries or tears. The substance of what they said, as
it was afterwards explained to me, was as follows :
" 0, Teddy, Teddy, you're lying low, this evening
of sorrow— lying low, are you, and does not know who
it is [alluding to O'Neil] that is standing over you,
weeping for a faithful follower, he respected for his

THE IRISH WAKE. 199
honesty. It's yourself would warmly welcome him
under your roof, and feel yourself honored in his pris-
ence. Are ye not now stretched in death before him ;
and if ever any thing went amiss, will he not forgive
you .?" And much more to the same effect, all ex
temporaneously uttered.
When this outburst of grief had in a measure sub
sided, Peter Kelly, a near relation of the deceased
came forward and addressed O'Neil : — " God knows,
sir, that poor Teddy, heavens be his bed ! had the
regard for your honor, and for your family,
and for your father's family afore you ; for he
was an oulder man than your honor, may the
God of heaven presarve and bliss you ! and it's him
self that would be the proud man, if he was living, to
see you, sir, riding after his coffin .?"
O'Neil replied that he had friends visiting him,
and that his first duty was to them as his guests ;
but that if they would eicuse him for the time, he
would certainly attend the funeral. In an under tone,
I said to him : " If it would not be deemed an intru
sion, we will bear you company .?" " It would be
esteeraed a great honor," he replied, in like manner ;
and then added, aloud : " I shall come, Peter, and
bring my friends with me."
Kelly was profuse in his thanks, as well to me as to

200 benedict's wanderings.
O'Neil ; and nearly all present called for the bless
ings of God upon our heads.
As a last mark of respect to poor Teddy's memory,
we were requested to take a glass of wine, brought
from a small side-cupboard. O'Neil poured a glass
and handed it to me, and then another for himself,
which he lifted to the level of his eye, and said : " A
kind husband, a dutiful father, a true friend, an
honest, industrious man I Such was Teddy Conron.
Bequiescat in pace.''
Another burst of grief ensued, raingled with greater
blessings on the head of the panegyrist. But when
it was over, O'Neil added : " And now, my friends,
that you may have a creditable funeral, and manage
every thing with propriety, let me request, in turn,
that you will not get drunk, nor permit yourselves to
enter into any disputes or quarrels, but be moderate
in what you take, and let every thing be conducted
decently and in order."
Having received assurances of sobriety from all
present, O'Neil and I departed, leaving them to re
new their smoking and drinking, and their eulogies
upon the dead ; for it is never with the Irish, as An
thony said at the funeral of Ccesar, —
" The evil that men do lives after them,
The good is oft inteiTed with their bones :"—
they forget all the faUings of him they are about

THE IRISH WAKE. 201
to bury, and magnify his virtues in language of the
utmost extravagance.
As we returned to his residence, O'Neil remarked,
in explanation, possibly in extenuation, of this re
markable if not pecuUar custom of the Irish : — " To
the people of another country, and even to Irishmen
whose rank in life places them far from the customs,
prejudices, and domestic opinions of their native poor,
scenes such as you this evening witnessed, are some
times thought to be insincere, as they mingle sor
row with sociability, and weeping and wailing with
wine and wassail. But the character of our poor is
made up of extremes — on the one hand mirth, on the
other misery ; at the wake these extremes meet,
and sometimes mingle in a raost ludicrous raanner.
There is something extremely touching in the Irish
cry ; it breathes the very spirit of wild and natural
sorrow ; and yet an Irishmen, sunk in the lowest
depths of affiiction, cannot permit his grief, even for
a day, to flow uninterrupted. At the same time,
it would be unjust to say that he is incapable of sen
timent, or of the deepest sorrow. The truth is, he
dissipates with laughter the heavy vapors which hang
about the moral constitution of the people of other
nations, giving them a morbid habit, which leaves
them neither strength nor firmness to resist calamity,
and often leads to crime or suicide."

CHAPTEE XVIII.

THE CASTLES OF ARDGLASS.
?wJJOE the next day, O'Neil had planned an excur-
^H]|i sion to Ardglass, a sea-coast town seven miles
from Downpatrick, to view the reraains of the
ancient castles, which are among the most extensive
ruins of the kind in the country. The party included
Mrs. O'Neil and daughters, who, with Musgrave,
were to occupy the carriage, while 0' Neil and myself
followed on horseback. Before taking the road to
Ardglass, however, O'Neil showed us all the objects
of interest in the town and yicinity, including the
public buildings. The principal object of attraction
is the cathedral, a modern structure, erected on an
eminence to the west of the town. It is a stately,
embattled edifice, chiefly of unhewn stone, supported
by buttresses, having a square tower at the west end.
"St. Patrick," said O'Neil, " founded two religious
establishments here, one of which, the cathedral, oc
cupied the site of this edifice. It does not appear
when that church was destroyed, but another, known

THE CASTLES OF ARDGLASS. 203
as St. Patrick's cathedral, was erected on the same
spot, in the year 1412. This edifice was destroyed in
the year 1538, by Lord de Grey, who was afterwards
beheaded. The profanation of this church was one
of the articles exhibited against him when he was ira
peached." The foUowing are the charge and specification
against Lord de Grey, alluded to by O'Neil ; I cop
ied thera, after our return from Ardglass, from an
ancient record in his possession, and have carefuUy
preserved them in their original form :
" He rased St. Patrilce his church in Downe, an
old auncient citie of Ulster, and burnt the monuments
of Patrike, Brigide, and Colme, who are said to be en-
tqonied. This fact lost him sundrie harts in that
countrie." — " Item, that without any warrant from
the king or counceU, he prophaned the church of St.
Patrike, turning it to a stable after plucking it downe,
and stript the notable ring of the bels that did hang
in the steeple, meaning to have thera sent to Eng
land, had not God of his justice, prevented his in-
iquitie, by sinking the vesell and passengers wherein
said bels should have been conveid."
Above the east window, in the present cathedral,
are three niches, which formerly contained the remains
of the mutUated effigies of St. Patrick, St. Bridget,
and St. Columb-kill ; and over their tomb, or tombs,

204 benedict's wanderings.
it is said, was written, in old raonkish verse, a distich,
thus rendered into English :
" One tomb three saints contain, one vault below
Does Bridget, Patrick and Columba show."
On an elevated spot, not far from the cathedral, but
without the consecrated grounds, were the remains of
an old tomb, which is said to mark the burial place of
Magnus, King of Norway. " It is not known when
the tomb was erected," said O'NeU, "but the grave
was filled in the reign of Murchaid O'Brien. Magnus
sent O'Brien a pair of his old shoes, with orders to
wear them upon his shoulders on the birth-day of the
Lord, in token of submission to his power. The King
of Ireland caused the ears of the Norway coraraission
ers to be cut off, and then returned the shoes with the
intelligence. Magnus, exasperated with the insult,
resolved to revenge himself by the subjugation of Ire
land. He landed a large body of troops in Ulster,
where he coraraenced hostilities ; but being surrounded
by the Irish militia, he and his suite were killed."
The ruins of Ardglass consist of the reraains of
several ancient castles, and a long range of castellated
houses, called by the inhabitants the New Works.
The period is not recorded at which any of the castles
was erected, but the castellated houses; of a much later
date, are said to have been built by Shane O'Neil,
about the year 1570. The largest of the castles, a

THE CASTLES OP ARDGLASS.

205

fortress of considerable size and strength, but at pres
ent much dilapidated and falUng into decay, is pop-

KrUO'S CASTLE.
ularly known as the King's Castle. Of the remain
ing fortresses, the most remarkable is that called Jor
dan' s Castle, which, though inferior in size to the one
just mentioned, is constructed -with greater elegance
than any other of these strongholds. Situated in the
center of the town, it appears to have been a citadel,
and is memorable for the gallant defence of its owner,
Simon Jordan, who, in the Tyrone RebeUion, held out
for three years, tiU he was reUeved by the Lord Dep-

206 benedict's wanderings.
uty Mountjoy, June, 1601, who rewarded him for his
service, as well by his own private bounty as by a
concerdatum from the Queen. Another of these for
tresses is called Horn Castle, and another Cloud Cas
tle ; but the origin of these names is unknown. There
are also the ruins of other castles, of less moment, the
names of which are entirely forgotten.
The castellated houses, or new works, stand boldly
on a rocky shore of the bay, which washes it on the
east and north sides. The range is two hundred and
fifty feet in length, and in breadth twenty four, while
the walls are three feet in thickness. Its design is
uniform and elegant, consisting of three square towers,
one in the center and one at each end, each contain
ing three compartments ten feet square. The inter
mediate space is occupied by a range of fifteen arched
door-ways of cut stone, and sixteen windows. As the
doors and windows alternate throughout the range,
there is little doubt that they were designed for shops
or merchants' warerooms. There is a story over the
shops, containing the same number of apartments,
and having its own separate stone staircase. On the
sea side there are no windows or apertures, except
narrow loop-holes, which shows the secondary purpose
of the building to have been 'a fortress, to protect the
merchants from piratical assailants.
"Ardglass," said O'Neil, " though now a mean vil-

TUB CASTLES OF ARDGLASS. 207
lage, ranked, anciently, as the principal town of trade,
next Carrickfergus, in the province of Ulster. Its an
tiquity is very great, as a church was founded here by
St. Patrick.
" During the various civil wars in Ireland, the cas
tles of Ardglass frequently changed masters. About
the year 1578, they were taken frora the O'Neils, after
a stout resistance, by Sir Nicholas Bagual, Marshal
of Ireland, who placed in them a strong garrison. But
they again fell into the possession of the Irish, in the
memorable rebellion of 1641.
" Ardglass formerly gave the title of Earl to the
family of CromweU, and afterwards that of Viscount
to the family of Barrington, to which belong our
worthy friends of that name in Belfast."
At the north-east point of the harbor, there is a
singular Urae-stone cavern, about sixty feet in extent.
After visiting this curiosity, we returned to Down
patrick, where we arrived in time for dinner.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE BLARNEY STONE.

i

|OUE days of the week to which I had
I liraited myself in Ireland, having already
transpired, with Carrickfergus and the Giant's
Causeway yet to visit, I was obUged to decline
the pleasure of another excursion, proposed by
O'Neil for the following day, to other objects of
interest in the -vicinity of Downpatrick. Of these,
the most noteworthy was an ancient well, which, in
former times, was highly esteemed by the superstitious
peasantry for its supposed medicinal qualities ; and
which, even now, is resorted to by Roman Catholic
pilgrims, as a place of sacred memories. There were
also the ruins of an ancient cathedral, and a remarka
ble mound of so great antiquity that its origin and
use are at the present day unknown.
As I intended, upon leaving the causeway, to pro
ceed to Londonderry rather than return to Belfast, I
reckoned on the company 'of Musgrave, and I was not
a little surprised and disappointed when he expressed

THF BLARNEY STONE. 209
his determination to continue his course southward as
far as the city of Cork.
" There are several places," said he, "which I can
not leave Ireland without having seen. When I re
turn home, I must have, it in my power to say that I
visited Dundalk, where Edward Bruce, the last King
of Ireland, was crowned ; and Dublin, the capital of
the kingdom ; and Tara, the seat of the sovereigns
of Ireland ; and Cashel, where the kings of Munster
resided ; and the world-renowned Blarney Castle."
"The places you projiose to visit," said O'Neil,
" are among the most interesting in the country.
Dundalk, beside being the place wlieie Lord Edward
Bruce was crowned, was also the place of his residence
for the two years he reigned over Ireland, and the
place of his death in battle with the English under
Sir John Birmingham, and the place of his burial.
Dundalk is also noted for the sieges it sustained from
Bruce, from the O'Neils, and from Lord Inchiquin in
1640. In Dublin you might spend a month to ad
vantage. Of Tara there is nothing left except the
hill, whicb, as I informed you last evening, is marked
by a pillar of modem construction. It is otherwise
with Cashel, a town of about 7,000 inhabitants, situ
ated in the midst of a fertile district, at the foot of
the far-famed Rock of Cashel, a limestone height,
which, rising above the adjacent country, is seen at a

210

benedict's wanderings.

very great distance from every direction by which it
is approached. Cashel, though the favorite residence
of the kings of Munster, is famed for other facts : for
centuries it has been the seat of an archbishop ; in the
middle of the fifth century, a synod was held there by

HILIi OF CASHEL.

St. Patrick and other ecclesiastics ; King Jj^ngus is
said to have comraeraorated his conversion to Chris
tianity, by the erection of a church upon the rock ;
and the cathedral was erected by Donald O'Brien,
king of Limerick, about 1109. >;rear the town are the
remains of Hore Abbey, and of a Dominican priory.
The ruins upon the rock consist of a round tower, a
chapel of Saxon and Norraan architecture, O'Brien's
cathedral, a castellated palace, and the Abbey of ^n-
gus, aU within an enclosed area. This is the most in
teresting assemblage of ruins in Ireland."
"You have omitted to say anything of Blarney

THE BLARNEY STONE. 211
Castle .?" said Musgrave, with an accent of interroga
tory. " Ha ! ha ! ha !" laughed O'NeU. " I suspected as
much. It is the Blarney Stone you are after. Come,
now, what says the poet .?"
Pale as he was, the young man blushed, for he
feared — his motive being suspected — that he might be
turned into ridicule ; nevertheless he complied with
O'Neil's request :
" There is a stone there,
That whoever kisses,
Oh, he never misses
To grow eloquent.
'Tis he may clamber
To a lady's chamber,
Or become a member
Of Parliament.
A clever spouter
^ He'll sure turn out, or
An out and outer
To be let alone !
Dont hope to hinder him.
Sure he's a pilgrim
From the Blarney Stone."
" You see, young man," said O'Neil, with a smile,
"I use my eyes, and ears, and understanding. I am
son-y you have no flesh on your bones, no blood in
your veins ; for had you, I should help you with a
bit of advice."
" I intend to have both," said Musgrave. " I have

212 benedict's wanderings.
already commenced. A year hence I shall be as
round and rosy as a child."
" I vrish it may be so," returned O'NeU, " for the
' colleen bawn ' is too dear a treasure to be wed to a
skeleton. So, I shall advise you on one condition —
that you do not see her again, voluntarily, until you
have gained ten pounds of flesh."
" 0 !" exclaimed Musgrave, joyfully, " I can make
you that promise conscientiously, for I have gained
half that since the day I sailed.' '
"WeU, then," said O'Neil, "it is this— be sure
you kiss the right stone. Samuel Lover, in one of his
songs, thus describes the location and virtues of this
famous talisman :
' Oh ! say, would you flnd this same Blarney ?
There's a castle not far from Killarney ;
On the top of its wall,
(But take care you don't fall,)
There's a stone that contains all this blarney.
Like a magnet, its influence such is,
That attraction it gives all it touches ;
If you kiss it, they say,
That from that blessed day
You may kiss whom you please, with your blarney.'
There is a stone kept on the floor of the first apart
ment you enter, which you will be told is the true
stone ; and if you know better, they will insist that
it has the same virtue. Believe it not. The Blarney
Stone is situated — not, as Lover says, ' On the top of

The Blarney stone. 213
its wall' — ^but at the northern angle, about twenty
feet below the surarait. His warning 'is appropos,
' But take care you don't fall,' for it is difficult to
reach ; it ig for that reason they claim to have found
another stone containing the same virtue. The true
stone is where I have said, and bears this inscription ;
' Gormach MacCarthy fortis mi fiori fecit, 1446.'
Kiss that, and no other ; and kiss it twice, for though
once might suffice for the ' colleen bawn,' you will not
find it so easy to wheedle O'Keeffe."
" Whence came the reputation of this stone .?" I
enquired. " No one knows," replied O'Neil. " The fact is
not even preserved in tradition. AU we know at this
day is, that the peasantry, in former times, firmly be
lieved in its virtue. Indeed, raany still believe in it
to a certain extent. As for myself, I will say this,
that there is not in the whole castle, another stone
which has the virtues ascribed to the one bearing the
inscription." "I presume," said I, interrogatively, "that the
celebrity of the castle is due to the reputation of the
Blarney Stone .?"
" Mainly, beyond a doubt," replied O'Neil. " But
the castle itself is by no means an object of insignifi
cance. It was long the residence of the younger
branch of the royal race of MacCarthy, by whom it

: r-
r
r
r

THE BLARNEY STONE. 215
was erected in the fifteenth century. The dungeon is
a hundred and twenty feet high, and the lower re
mains, though less massive, were so strong as to have
rendered it impregnable before the introduction of
gun-powder. Underneath are curious caves, natural
or artificial, made in the rocky foundation. Adjoining
the castle are the celebrated Groves of Blarney, which
are still beautiful. It is said they were formerly
adorned with statues, grottoes, fountains, and bridges ;
but all these have disappeared."

jl!*«-^

CHAPTER XX.

THE ANTIQUARY.

|HE evening of that day was spent as the pre
vious one had been, at the house of O'Neil,
!^^S with himself and faraily, and was one of the
happiest of ray life. Indeed, there was everything to
make it so, save the presence of my wife and children.
Mrs. 0' Neil was an extraordinary conversationist, as
intelligent as she was fluent and agreeable. The
music of the daughters was as sweet and varied as
any I ever listened to from araateurs. As to O'Neil,
his wit and humor overflowed in all directions, and
his hospitality was perfect in every particular. I con
tributed a few of my best anecdotes to the entertain
ment, and Musgrave sparkled like a diaraond. On
separating for the night, O'Neil remarked to me, in
an undertone : " The Blarney Stone may give that
young man power araong women, but it can scarcely
increase his eloquence."
At the station the next morning, after the train to
the southward had borne him from our presence,

the antiquary. 217
O'Neil paid Musgrave other compliraents of similar
character. I was pleased with the change that had
taken place in the opinion he entertained of my young
countryman ; at the same time sorry O'Keeffe and
McQuinlan could not hear his praises — and I said
something to that effect.
"The Antiquary" — it was thus O'Neil usually
spoke of the reverend father — ¦" is as quick as any
man to discern a superiority, even though he may
not show his appreciation. As to O'Keeffe, and even
O'Reilly, they are blinded by selfishness ; as I my
self was, at the first, by prejudice. Still, — "
He paused, and I supplied : "I have the assurance
of the Rev. Dr. Gabler, that he is a very excellent
young man, every way worthy of the ' colleen bawn' ;
and I am fully satisfied that, with proper care, his
health -will, in time, and at no distant day, be com
pletely rest:)red."
" In that case," replied O'Neil, "he has my best
wishes, and at the proper time, if it ever comes, shall
receive my hearty congratulations."
At parting, O'Neil expressed much regret that it
was impossible for him to accompany me to the
Giant's Causeway, and hoped I might raeet sorae one,
farailiar with the country, who would bear rae com
pany. Then he gave me a letter addressed to Father

218 benedict's wanderings.
McQuinlan, with the request that I should deliver it
in person on my return to Londonderry.
Arrived at Belfast, almost the first person I saw
was Father McQuinlan, who stood near the gateway,
noting the passengers as they came from the carriages.
On perceiving me, he advanced quickly, and extend
ing his hand, greeted me with much cordiality. Af
ter the customary compliments, I gave him 0' Neil's
letter ; and upon reading it, he reraarked : " Our
good friend informs me that you proceed at once to
the Giant's Causeway. If you can put up with
my poor society, I shall be delighted to bear you
company as far as Carrickfergus .?"
I assured him it would afford me the highest pleas
ure, and expressed the hope that he might be able to
accompany me all the way back to Londonderry. " If
it would add to your pleasure," he said, " I should do
so willingly, provided you can spare the time to make
a diversion to the ruins of the abbey of Bona-marga.?"
As such an excursion would only add to my pleasure,
I immediately consented ; but when I proposed to
pay the expenses, he objected ; and when I insisted,
he confessed that he had come to Belfast, at the de
sire of O'Neil, purposely to bear me company, and
that in the letter I had brought him was raoney to
cover his expenses.
So surprised was I at the extraordinary kindness of

TBtE ANTIQifARY. 219
O'Neil, that I could flnd no words to express my
gratitude. I fell back on the poet, and simply said —
"A fine ould Irish gintleman!" "Yes," replied
the reverend father, with a smile, " one of the rael
ould sthock ! "
When I came to understand the true state of the
case, I knew precisely what to do ; and at once I as
sumed the management of our movements. Father
McQuinlan essayed a little opposition, but I put it
down quietly, leaving the gift of O'Neil intact for ob
jects of charity.
Having settled this matter, we were soon on our
way to Carrickfergus, one of the most ancient and
famous towns in Ireland. It is not known when or
by whom it was founded, but for centuries it has held
a prominent place in the annals of the country. The
castle was built in 1128, by John de Courcey, who
had received from Henry II. , a grant of all the land
he might conquer in Ulster. In 1315, it was be
seiged and conquered by Lord Edward Bruce, and for
a time was the habitation of his brother Robert, the
great king of Scotland. In 1576, there were added
to the castle other fortifications, of which there are
still some remains. During the wars of 1641, the
town was alternately in the occupation of the Scotch,
English and Irish ; and its records at that period are
appalling. In 1689, William of Orange landed just

220

benedict's wanderings.

under the castle walls ; and the stone upon which he
is said to have "first put his foot," is still pointed
out. In 1760, both the town and castle were cap
tured by a French fleet under Commodore Thoiirot ;
but after a short possession, troops gathering from all

CABKICKI-EBGUS.

parts of the country, the conquerors were constrained
to give thera up and return to their vessels ; and two
days afterwards they were attacked by an English
Squadron, when Coramodore Thourot was killed and
his ships captured.
At present, though a parliamentary and municipal
borough, a sea-port, market-town and parish, Carrick
fergus is a place of comparatively Uttle importance,
the population not exceeding four thousand. The

the antiquary.

221

town is said to have derived its name from Carraig-
Feargusa, the rock of Fergus, after an Irish king,
who was drowned near that place. It contains a few
noticeable edifices, the best of which are churches and
chapels, and charitable schools. The object of prin-

C.IKIUCKPERGOS CAiSTLE.
cipal interest, however, is the castle^ which is consid
ered one of the noblest fortresses of its time now ex
isting in Ireland. It is at present maintained as an
arsenal, and occupied by a company of heavy artil
lery. The castle, adjoining the town on the south, stands
on a rock, (the rock of Fergus,) which projects into

222 benedict's wanderings.
the sea ; so that, at common tides, three sides of the
edifice are enclosed by water. At the southern ex
tremity, the rock is about thirty feet in height — the
highest point. Towards the town are two towers, be
tween which is the only entrance to the castle, de
fended by a straight passage, with embrasures for
fire-arms. Formerly, this passage was still farther
secured by a draw-bridge. Between the towers is a
strong gate, above which is an aperture for letting
fall melted lead, stones, and other missiles, on the
heads of assailants. West of the city was* a dara,
supposed to have been for the purpose of supplying
a ditch on the land side with water. There are two
enclosures, encorapassed by a high wall, an outer and
inner, both of- which are somewhat modernized. The
former contains a guard room, and a barrack that was
built in 1802. Opposite these are large vaults, said
to be bomb proof, over which are a few neat apart
raents occupied by the officers of the garrison. The
inner yard contains a small magazine, of modern con
struction, and several store houses. Within this yard
is the ancient keep, or dungeon, which is a square
tower ninety feet high, divided into five stories. The
largest apartment, called Fergus's dining-room, was
in the third story. The waUs of this tower are eight
feet ten inches thick, and on the . top, reached by a

TBE ANTIQUARY. 223
spu'al stone stairs, are two small houses, one of which
covers the mouth of the passage, while the other was
intended for a sentinel. It is believed that this tower
was anciently used as a state prison ; it is now the
principal magazine of the garrison.

CHAPTER XXI.
ANTIQUITIES.
|HEN writing of Londonderry, I ought to
have included Carrickfergus among the
^ walled cities of Ireland, though nothing of
the external defences is now left except the North
Gate. The walls were about six feet thick and
eighteen in height, and wore flanked with seven bas
tions, thfe corneJB of which were of cut yellow free
stone, different from any stone found in the neighbor
hood. There were four gates. North, West, Water
and Quay, two of which were entered by draw bridges.
The whole was surrounded on the land-side by a
water-ditch, now nearly filled up with earth and rub
bish. The architectural style of the North Gate indicates
the period of its erection as in the reign of James I.,
when the Gothic mode was superseded by the Roman.
It is a picturesque ruin, which Father McQuinlan
took me to see, and through which we passed in leav
ing Carrickfergus.

ANTIQUITIES. 225
" There is a curious tradition concerning this arch
way," said the antiquary, as we were passing through
the gate, " that it will stand until a wise man be
comes a member of the corporation."
"Is the tradition as old as the archway ?" I in
quired. " It is so old that its origin is unknown," he re
plied. " Perhaps they have too high a standard of wis
dom .?" I suggested.
" Iknow not," he returned ; " but as the old arch
still stands, we may infer that there is not in the
present corporation either a Solon or a Solomon."
"The poor Carrickfergussians ! " I exclaimed.
" It seems hardly credible that any people in this en
lightened age, should entertain such a silly supersti
tion .? "
" They may not now — I can not say," he replied.
" But their ancestors, not many generations back,
were not only superstitious but wicked. It is little
more than a hundred and fifty years since they be
lieved in witchcraft, and punished it with fine, im
prisonment, and even death. On the last day of
March, 1711, eight respectable women were tried
here, in the county court, for tormenting a young
woman called Mary Dunbar, whom it was alleged
they caused to vomit feathers, cotton-yarns, pins, and

226 Benedict's wanderings.
buttons, and finally frightened into fits with a bolster
that walked out of a room into the kitchen, wrapped
in a night-gown. In fheir defence, it appeared that
the- accused were sober, industrious people, who at
tended public worship, prayed in public and private,
and received the communion. In charging the jury.
Judge Upton reraarked upon these facts, thought it
improbable that real witches could so far retain the
form of religion as to frequent the religious worship
of God, and gave it as his opinion that the jury could
not bring them in guilty on the sole testimony of the
afflicted person's visionary images. But the other
justice, Macartney, differed from him in opinion, and
thought the jury might, from thc evidence, bring
them in guilty. Thc prisoners were convicted, and
sentenced to be imprisoned twelve months, and to
stand four times in the pillory in Carrickfergus."
I remarked that — " Upon the strength of their tra
dition, Judge Macartney might, at all times, have
walked with perfect safety under the North Gate."
" Aye," said Father McQuinlan, " and the other
judge also, and the jury, and the entire community."
On our way back to the station, the antiquary dis
coursed at length on witchcraft and sorcery, and
traced the origin of the Carrickfergussians to Caledo
nia, where the interference of evil spirits on the affairs
of this world were recognized by king and kirk dovm

antiquities. 227
to the year 1722, when Captain David Ross, of Lit-
tledean, a sheriff-depute of Sutherland, pronounced
judgement of death for witchcraft upon an insane old
woman belonging to the parrish of Loth — the last
sentence of the sort ever passed in Scotland.
We reached the station in time for the next train
to Antrim, a town of about two thousand inhabitants,
or Six Mile Water, near its mouth in Lough Neagh.
The town has two good streets, with a church, several
chapels, a union work-house, a court-house in which
general and petty sessions are held, and numerous
schools ; but not an edifice of any special importance.
Lough Neagh is the largest body of fresh water in the
British Lsles, and in Europe is only surpassed by
Geneva in Switzerland, and Ladoga and Onega in
Russia. The waters of this lake are celebrated for
their raedicinal and petrifying properties ; they are
said to heal all sorts of scrofulous diseases, and turn
wood to stone in the space ofa few years.
After a short sail toward the center of the lake,
that I raight form a better idea of its extent, I drank
of the waters, which are not unpalatable, and then
returned to Antrim, where I had left Father McQuin
lan for rest and refreshment. From Antrim we pro-
ceded, in a jaunting car, to Antrira Castle, a fine old
structure, the seat of Vicount Massareene, the park
and other grounds of which are very beautiful ; thence

228

BENEDIC1 S WANDERINGS.

to Shane's castle, the residence of that branch of the
famous O'Neils, who for ages were the lords of Ulster;
and finally to a round tower in the neighborhood, not
as lofty as that of Devenish, but one of the most per
fect in Ireland.

THE holekto>:e.
On our way to the abbey of Bona-Marga, we made
a divertion to the village of Doagh, about a raile from
which, on a rocky eminence, stands a large whinstone
slab, called the Holestone. This stone is upwards of
five feet in height above the ground, and near the

ANTIQUITIES. 229
base six feet eight inches in circumference, and ten
inches in thickness. At about three feet from the
ground there is a round hole perforated through it,
sufficient to admit a hand of ordinary size.
" Evidently," said Father McQuinlan, " this stone
is a work of art ; yet there is neither record nor tra
dition respecting its origin, or the purpose for which
it was erected."
" Is it the only stone of the sort in Ireland.?" I
inquired. " By no raeans," ho replied. " Stones ])erforated
in this manner are found in dilferent jiarts of the
country, particularly in the burial grounds attached
to very ancient churches. ^ Bat ihey are not as num
erous as hitherto. Within memoiy. a similar stone
stood on a hill near Cushindall, but it has entirely
disappeared." " Is the holestone, li!<e the round tower, peculiar
to Ireland ?"
" 0 no ; it is also found in Scotland. In Eoss-
shire there is one that exactly resembles this ; and
near KirkwaU is another, which is said to have been
an altar of the Druids. The place where it stands is
still consecrated to the meeting of lovers, who join
hands through the stone and pledge their love and
truth. These stones are thought to' be of Eastern
origin, as they are not uncomraon in India, where

230

SENfiDICT's WANDERINGS.

devoted people pass through them when the opening
will admit, and when too small put the hand or foot
through it, in order to be regenerated."

ABBET OF BONA-MARGA.
It was nearly night when we reached the abbey of
Bona-Marga. Along the coast of Antrim are a num
ber of picturesque ruins, whose rude and massive
architecture evince their remote antiquity. Among
these remains, chiefly Gothic, the only monastic
building is the abbey.
" It ranks among the latest of the monastic edifi
ces erected in Ireland," said Father McQuinlan. " It

ANTIQUITIES. 231
is said to have been built by Somarle McDonnal, in
1509, for Franciscans of the third order, or strict ob
servance. But some think it the work of an earlier
period, and attribute its erection to the ancient
family of MacQuinlans, of Dunluce Castle."
The situation of the abbe'y is strikingly romantic :
in front are the ocean and Eathlin island ; behind, the
mountain, which rises to the height of nearly
seventeen hundred feet. It was formerly sur
rounded by a luxuriant forest. The chapel is one
hundred feet in length and thirty-four in breadth.
On the north of the choir are the refectory, cells, and
other apartments usually attached to monastic insti
tutions. "In 1550," said Father McQuinlan, "the Scotch
islanders, or Eedshanks, in a plundering expedition
on the coast, discharged fiery arrows against tho
abbey, which, being covered with heath according to
the custom of the country, took fire and was con
sumed together with its inmates."

¦dJ'

CHAPTEE XXII.
THE GIANT'S CAUSEWAY.
^^JT was long after dark when we reached Port-
Mlli rush, the stopping place for visitors to the
^®f Giant's Causeway. The horses and even our
selves were weary, for we had traveled hither and
thither along the coast, the driver said a dis
tance of over forty miles. We put up for the night
at the Antrim Arras, where we were served with a
most excellent dinner, and made otherwise comfort
able. Early next morning while our breakfast was being
prepared, I took a short stroll through the town. It
is situated on a promontory, with a deep bay on each
side, while opposite, in fuU view, are the Skerries, a
group of rocky islands that form an excellent break
water for the harbor. In suramer it is much resorted
to for sea-bathing, and since the opening of the rail
way, has become a place of considerable activity. It
is also frequented by the steamers plying between the
north coast of Ireland and the Clyde and Mersey.

THE giant's CAUSEWAY.

233

.; ' DUNLUCE CASTLE.
Shortly after breakfast we set out in a carriage for
the Causeway, taking in our course Dunluce Castle,
one of the most picturesque ruins in the United
Kingdom. It stands upon the summit of an isolated
rock, a hundred feet above the level of the sea, and

234 benedict's wanderings.
is connected with the main land by a bridge of only
about twenty inches in width.
" It is uncertain when or by whom it was erected,"
said Father McQuinlan. " It is generally conceded,
however, to have been the work of DeCouncy."
"What is its subsequent history ?" I inquired.
" Its history is chiefly tradition," replied the anti
quary ; " but according to that, it has been the scene
of many heroic adventures, and the subject of numer
ous romantic stories. This we know of a certainty,
however, that it was the ancient residence of the Mc-
Quinlans, and subsequently of the McDonalds of
Scotland, one of whom married into the McQuinlan
family. The castle is still in the possession of the
Scotch family.' '
Leaving Dunluce Castle, we advanced at a rapid
rate for about three miles, when we came to the small
town of Bushmills, on the river Bush, a stream much
resorted to by anglers, and celebrated for the deli
ciousness of its trout and salmon. Had it been the
proper season, I should have ventured to spend a day
in the enjoyment of angling, of which Izaak Walton
wrote, two hundred years ago, " God never did make
a more calm, quiet, innocent recreation."
As it was, we drove directly through the town, and
proceeded to the Causeway, the most remarkable nat
ural curiosity in the country. One must behold it.

THE GIANT S CAUSEWAY.

235

to form any just conception of its magnitude. It is a
black basalt promontory, (resembUng a pier,) which

'¦l 'Mm ¦¦¦c^

THE giant's causeway.
extends into the sea a long distance, from the base of
a stratified rock, of great altitude. I inquired its
dimentions, and was greatly surprised to find that,
though so easy of raeasureraent, its length, breadth and
height were all a matter of conjecture.

236 benedict's wanderings.
" Writers also disagree on these points," said
Father McQuinlan. " Some represent it as seven
hundred and others a thousand feet in length ; some
as four hundred and others six hundred feet in height ;
some as two hundred and forty and others three hun
dred and fifty feet in width."
" A very reraarkable discrepancy," I suggested.
" Nevertheless," he replied, " not so great in these
as in some other particulars. For instance, .in Har
per's Hand Book it is said that the number of col
umns are ' some four thousand,' while in Lippin-
cott's Gazateer they are represented as ' about forty
thousand.' "
These columns differ in height, the greater portion
being about twenty feet, though some are thirty, and
a few it is said, measure thirty-six above the strand.
They are of a prismatic structure, embracing every
shape from a triangle to a nonagou.
Father McQuinlan having pointed out the objects
of principal interest, as the Pulpit, the Chimney-tops,
the Amphitheatre Gateway, the Giant's Well, and
the Giant's Grandmother, (who was petrified for hav
ing indulged in the luxury of three husbands at the
same time,) we visited two of the most remarkable
caves, of which there are many along the coast. The
larger of these is called Dunkerry, the entrance to
which resembles a Gothic arch. It is six hundred

THE giant's causeway. 237
feet long and seventy in height above low water.
The other was Portcoon, which is three hundred and
fifty feet in length, and forty-five in height. Several
others of less magnitude were particularly pointed out
to us going or returning.
Before taking a last lingering look atthe Causeway,
Father McQuinlan remarked — " Popular legend as
cribes this stupendous formation to the labor of
giants, seeking to construct a road across the sea to
Scotland." " I have heard that it was the work of Fin M'Coul,
the champion of Ireland, a giant of great power and
prowess," I returned. " Aggrieved at the insolent
boasting of a Caledonian giant, who sent him a mes
sage to the effect that if it were not for the wetting of
himself he would swim over and give him a drubbing.
Fin obtained leave of the king to construct a cause
way to Scotland, on which the Scot walked over and
gave him battle."
" A legend I have heard before," replied the anti
quary ; and then added, with a smile, " but I should
not believe a word of it, if the Irish giant had not
been victorious."

CHAPTEE XXIII.

ADIEU TO ERIN.

^^i-sr^iHEEE was a vessel in the harbor of Portrush,
IM^ about to leave for Scotland ; but though my
Ci^ week was nearly spent, I could not take my

6-

departure from a point so near Londonderry, without
again seeing O'Keeffe and the " colleen bawn."
From Portrush we traveled in the cars, passing
through Goleraine, and arrived at Londonderry in
time for dinner. 0' Keeffe met us at the station, and
carried us to his house, and made us heartily wel
come, as on a fornier occasion.
The only other guest at dinner was Terrence
O'Reilly, whose attentions to Nora were of a marked
character. She received them quietly, but without
any special evidence of pleasure. I observed her
closely, but was unable to draw a satisfactory conclu
sion. Many inquiries were raade about O'Neil and his
family, and many compliments were paid to the "fine
ould Irish gintleman" of Downpatrick; but no allusion

AblEt To ERIN. 239
was made to Musgrave, although he composed one
of the dinner party on the previous occasion. At the
time, I inferred that his name was taboed, or pur
posely avoided. Later in the evening the " colleen
ba-wn," in an undertone intended only for my ears,
inquired the condition of his health. . Perceiving how
the matter stood, I told her every thing, saye what
pertained to the Blarney Stone.
At the request of O'Reilly, who was fond of music,
Nora played a number of pieces, and among the rest
a favorite waltz by Mozart. I stood at her elbow and
turned the leaves. At the fourth, a slip of paper fell
fiuttering to the floor. An exclamation of surprise
escaped the lips of the player, and for a moment she
was disconcerted ; but immediately recovering her
self-pOssession, she finished without further embarrass
ment. 0' Reilly observed the slip of paper, but as it was
nearer me, I picked it uj) and laid it on the piano.
An involuntary glance revealed the hand- writing of
Miiso-rave, and as I turned the leaves, I read silently,
with the consent of Nora, signified by an almost im
perceptible inclination of the head :
" Nora darling, don't believe them,
Never heed their flattering wiles,
Trust a heart that loves thee dearly,
Lives but in thy sunny smiles —

240 benedict's wanderings.
I must leave thee, Nora darling,
But I leave my heart with thee ;
Keep it, for 'tis true and faithful
As a loving heart can be."
At the end of the performance, she laid the slip of
paper again between the leaves of the waltz, to avoid
suspicion ; and presently forgot it until the next
morning. But when she went to look for it then, —
as she whispered me at parting, — ^it had been re
moved. On inquiry, I ascertained, more to my surprise
than regret, that the only chance I had of reaching
Scotland within the time specified, was by the way
of Belfast. Taking the first train for that city, I
crossed the Province of Ulster again, and embarked
the same afternoon in the steamer. • As she passed
out of the bay into the ocean, I felt as did the poet :
" Beautiful Isle of the sea !
Smile on the brow of the waters !
Dear are your mem'ries to me,
Sweet as the songs of your daughters."
I repeated these words aloud, and then turned my
face toward the north, with the apostrophe of another
poet on my tongue :
" O Caledonia! stern and wild,
Meet nurse for a poetic child !
Land of brown heath and shaggy wood ;
Land of the mountain and the flood."

PART IIL

iilliil.

CHAPTER I.

ACROSS THE CHANNEL.

¦rSif aROM Belfast to Greenock, the sail was short
y^p and satisfactory — pleasant weather, a smooth
^^S> sea, and a settled stomach. On board the
steamer I made the passing acquaintance of several
gentlemen, one of whom, Mr. Blaikie, of Edinburgh,
pointed out to me the principal objects of interest,
among which were the islands of Arran, Bute, and
the Ciimbraes. These islands are in the Frith of
Clyde, and on a clear day may be (Ustinctly seen
from the passing steamers, particularly Arran, the
sumrait of which, Goatfell, is 2,900 feet above the
sea. Bute is a favorite resort for invaUds and sea-
batheis, owing to the mildness and equability of its
temperature. Between Kilchattan and Rothesay, on
the eastern coast, stands Mount Stuart, the seat of
the Marquis of Bute, the principal proprietor of the
island. It is surrounded by woods, and delightfully
situated, commanding views of the highest beauty and
attraction. Rothesay, a royal burgh of nearly 8,000

244 benedict's wanderiiJgs.
inhabitants, and the capital of the county, was the
birth place of John, Earl of Bute, the favorite of
George III., and also, of Matthew Stewart, the
famous mathematician. The Castle of Rothesay was
formerly the residence of the kings of Scotland.
Remembering this fact, I inquired of Mr. Blaikie its
situation. " It is near the harbor,' ' he replied ; " but it is
now a crurabling ruin, though one of the finest in
Scotland. It was burned by the Earl of Argyle
nearly two hundred years ago, and nothing has ever
been done for its preservation. It is now covered and
partially concealed with ivy, though the closet in
which Robert III. died is still pointed out. The
moat by which it was surrounded is nearly filled up
in many places, and in time, for it is already sur
rounded with houses, all trace of the castle will be
destroyed by Time and the Vandals of the neighbor
hood." It seemed to me a remarkable fact that so little
respect should be paid to this remnant of Scottish
royalty ; but on remarking to that effect, Mr. Blaikie
replied that the destruction by fire was so effectual
that il? could not be restored short of entire recon
struction. "It was famous in history," he remarked, "ha-ving
been captured by the English in the reign of John

ACROSS THB CHANNEL. 245
Baliol, and afterwards surrendered to Robert Bruce.
It was fortified by Edward Baliol, and near it Robert
III. built a palace in which he resided. The eldest
son of this monarch was created Duke of Rothesay in
a council at Scone, the first ducal dignity of Scotland.
This title descended to the eldest sons of subsequent
Scottish kings, as it still does to the heir apparent
of the British oown. But notwithstanding all these
facts, the ruin by fire was so coraplete, as I have
already remarked, that no effort has ever been made
for its restoration."
Vessels proceeding to and from Glasgow, coramonly
touch at Greenock, a city of about 50,000 inhabitants,
situated at the mouth of the river Clyde. It stands
chiefly on a level strip of low land, though a portion
stretches up an abrupt height, from which grand
views are obtained. The principal harbor, named
Victoria from the Queen, has a depth of twenty-four
feet, and an area of six acres. The docks are amona:
the largest in Great Britain, and are formed of solid
masonry, very greatly sujierior, in appearance as well
as durability, to the slovenly wooden structures in
Araerica. The'harbor was full of shipping, which I
was told is the case continually. Greenock is not a
new place, though it has wholly risen into importance
since the beginning of the eighteenth century.

CHAPTER II.

THE OLD BOY

I^IKt Greenock I hoped to meet Bachelor, and
was not disappointed. How glad I was to
see him ! I had spent a week pleasantly in
the " Green Isle," among people who did everything
in their power to make my sojourn agreeable. I had
left them and their country willi regret, even with
reluctance. But for the moment I forgot thera and
everything in the joy of again meeting my companion,
not of the voyage merely, but of years and years, as I
stated at the outset.
Observing his approach, I cried out, in the glad
ness of my heart — " Ah, there's the old boy ! "
The exclamation startled several of the passengers
— those, I presume, who had good reason to be
terrifled ; and one of them, in a tremulous voice,
inquired — " Where is he .? "
" My friend," I repUed, soothingly, " be not afraid.

THE OLD BOY. 247
For anything I know to the contrary, it is now as it
was in the time of Robert Burns —
 ' the De'il's in hell
Or Dublin city.'
I have reference to a friend of mine — the tall, good-
looking man you see forcing his way through the
crowd." There was a chuckle among the passengers, and
the querist turned away, I thought a little disgusted.
But the joy at meeting was not all mine. Bachelor
seemed as glad to see me as a school-boy to get a
holiday. "Old boy!" I exclaimed, grasping his hand,
"how are you .? "
" Sound as a dollar," said the Bachelor, with a
smile that spread all over his face. " How are you ? "
"Improving," I replied, laconically; adding,
almost in the same breath — "What news of our
fellow voyagers."
"Not much of interest," he answered. "Miss
MacGiU, ' the ship's beauty,' left the Columbia at
this place, and embarked in another vessel for Inver
ness. The Count and Countess di LavareUo are in
Glasgow, quietly waiting for a steainer to Italy.
Mrs. Small and her daughter are at their home, to
which they wish to welcome you as soon as convenient
after your arrival."

248 benedict's wanderings.
" And the wiusome widow.? " I inquired.
"Mrs. MaxweU?"
" Yes. Why is she oraitted? "
"I did not orait her," he replied. "Her name
was on my tongue when you spoke. But with refer
ence to her you are so impetuous."
He was right, though I denied it stoutly. The
truth is (but this, also, I remark in parenthesis, that
it may not reach the ears of my wife), if I had not
been a married man, I should certainly have fallen in
love with the widow.
" I beg your pardon. I thought you had paused."
" Only to take breath," he repUed.
He paused again, the provoking fellow ! But it
was no use to urge hira, so I waited — I was about to
say patiently, but it would be raore nearly correct to
say impatiently. At length, when he thought I had
suffered sufficiently, he informed me that she was at
the Argyle Hotel, where he was stopping. But not
another fact could I get out of hira, though I plied
him with questions almost without number.
But I had my revenge, then and there, as the
lawyers say. Provoked at his evasion, I subsided
into silence. Presently he inquired : " Have you
nothing to comraunicate concerning the passengers
who diserabarked with you at Londonderry — that
beautiful Irish girl, ' the colleen bawn,' and O'NeU,

THE OLD BOY.

249

'the fine ould Irish gentleman,' and that brilliant
young fellow, ' John Smith,' who did the singing and
begging for the priest? " " Nothing," I replied. He
regarded me for a moraent with astonishment.
"Nothing," I repeated, "until you tell me all
about the widow."

CHAPTER III.

OBSERVATIONS.

l^^OME of the passengers left the steamer at
pBIl Greenock, and others came aboard with Bache-
m® lor, preferring the river to the railway. Some
of the latter had friends to see them off, and some
of the former had friends to bid them welcome. The
scene was one of bustle and confusion, such as occurs
at nearly every port, yet not without interest to " a
'looker-on here in Vienna." At meeting and parting,
some shook hands, some embraced, some kissed, and
some did all three in turn ; some in a quiet way, and
some -with noisy demonstrations.
I was pleased to see such manifestations of friend
ship and affection. I was amused as well, for the
embracing and kissing were not confined to the sex
"stronger by weakness," or even to the opposite
sexes, but was considerably indulged in by " the
lords of human-kind." I can fully appreciate
" A long, long kiss, a kiss of youth and love,"
indeed, I am not indiflerent to " kisses from a female

OBSERVATIONS. 251
mouth," even when there is neither youth nor love ;
but these masculine kisses, though confined to
brothers, or to fathers and sons, seemed to me out of
place and unnatural, and instead of exciting my
sympathy, as doubtless they should, inclined me to
laughter. I was under the impression, until I saw
these Scotchmen saluting each other with the lips,
that " The cold in clime are cold in blood."
I repeated the verse to Bachelor, after calling his
attention to a kissing scene between two strapping
fellows, such as a Scotch "mit her" would call
" bonnie laddies."
" Their love can scarce deserve the name,"
he replied, quoting the succeeding verse.
He may have alluded to the "bainie bri thers"
before us, or to " the cold in clime," (the Scotch
people); or — as I suspected at the moment — to " the
captain's daughter "and " the ship's beauty," for I
think it would be hard to say of which he was most
enamored. I waited a few moments to afford him an opportun
ity to "rise and explain," but he failed to appreciate
my kindness ; or, to do him no more than justice, he
was " silent as the moon.' '
"Whose love can scarce deserve the name?" I
inquired, repeating the verse.

252 benedict's wanderings.
" Their love," he rei)lied, with a peculiar emphasis,
but at the same time pointing to the young Scotchmen.
" 0 ! " I exclairaed ; " I thought you had reference
to  "
I paused, and he demanded quickly — "Whom? "
"The cold in cUme," I replied, with a smile.
" The widow, for instance," he remarked, smiling
in turn.
" Is she cold in blood? " I inquired, with a search
ing glance.
"How should I know? " he returned. "She is
not likely to waste her time and thoughts upon a man
with a wife and two children."
I was at a loss to comprehend the significance of
his remark, whether it alluded to our conversation
with her on board the Columbia, or to some subse
quent interview between themselves of which I had
as yet no knowledge.
" A man with a wife and two children! " I repeated.
"One who carries their photograi)hs about with him
in his pocket-book?" I added, hoping thereby to
discover whether the widow had acted on the hint I
gave her as we were nearing the port of London
derry. But he was proof against any such shallow device.
Not a word escaped his lips, not a muscle of his face

OBSERVATIONS. 253
changed. I looked at him sharply, and to myself
repeated — " Thou hast no speculation in those eyes,
Which thou dost glare with ! "
A few moments passed in silence. Meanwhile, I
endeavored to recall distinctly all that had passed
between the widow and myself, concerning my wife
and children and their photographs. But I was
unable to arrive at any satisfactory conclusion.
Presently he broke the silence, and changed the
conversation. He renewed his inquiries about "John
Smith," "the colleen bawn," "the fine ould Irish
gintleman " of Downpatrick, and Mrs. Bariington,
whom he characterijzed as " the orthodox old lady of
Belfast." In as few words as possible, I related of each what
I thought would most interest him at the moment,
leaving my owu adventures, with a detailed account
of all I had seen and heard and enjoyed, for " a more
convenient season."

CHAPTER IV.

THE ESTUARY.

I^JIKN the rising of the tide, we lifted anchor, and
«m[W with a steam tug before and behind, started
^iQ^ ^P *^® Clyde ; which, below Dumbarton,
becomes an estuary four miles in width, spreading
northward into Loch Long, and southward into the
Frith of Clyde. I regretted that I could not go on
shore and have a look at the city. Though not a
place of very special interest to the ordinary traveler,
there are very raany objects worthy of observation.
Araong these are the acqueducts and reservoirs by
which the city is abundantly supplied with water,
both for public and private purposes. Of the public
edifices, the custora house, town hall, jail, infirm
ary, asserably hall, tontine, exchange and theatre
are fine structures. There are several public libraries,
one containing as many as 10,000 volumes. In the
hall of this library is a statue by Chantrey of James
Watt, the great improver of the steam engine,- who
was a native of the city.

THE ESTUARY. 2.55
On the river Clyde, ship and steamboat building is
carried on extensively, both at Greenock and Glasgow.
In this river was launched, by Henry Bell, the first
steamboat constructed in Britain ; at least, the first
successfully propelled — the Comet. This was in 1812,
about five years after Fulton had succeeded on the
Hudson. It was on this river that some of the famous
rebel rams, which destroyed so much of our shijiping
during the late civil war, were constructed.
The ship-yards of Greenock are chiefly above the
city, and extend up the river for a con.siderable
distance. They are not so large as those of Glasgow,
where I counted scores of iron vessels on the ways in
process of construction. Some of these vessels were
so near together that the same scaffolding served for
two at the same time, while the scaffolding on the
opposite sides served for these and two others, and so
on to the number of a dozen, or twenty in sorae
instances. It would require n small volume to describe all
one sees in the short distance between Greenock
and Glasgow. The country on both sides of the
river was in a high state of cultivation, and in
many of the fields the crops of the year were still
ungathered. Manufactories of many kinds, indeed of
alraost all kinds, were to be seen on both banks, with
no very great intervals; and at points somewhat distant

256 benedict's wai^derings.
from both cities, were vessels, of various kinds, in
different stages of construction.
Mr. Blaikie, the gentleman who pointed out to me
the objects of interest in the frith, performed a like
kindness for Bachelor and myself as we ascended the
river. First, our attention was directed to the ruins
of an old building, which he informed us was Finlay-
ston, farpierly the family mansion of the Earls of
Glencairn. It was at one time a favorite resort of
John Knox, whom he described as " the father of the
Scottish Reformation, and the founder of Presby
terianism." A short distance further on, we saw the
ruins of Cardross Castle, where Robert Bruce, King
of Scotland, spent the last few peaceful days of his
existence. On the opposite shore is the Castle of
Newark, in the days of Bruce and Wallace the resi
dence of Sir John Monteith, but now the property of
Lady Shaw Stewart.
About two miles above this ruin, we passed Dum
barton Castle, so called, though.it is more properly
a stronghold or fortress. It is a rock, about a mile in
circumference, which rises nearly six hundred feet
above the level of the river. On its sides are old
bastions and batteries, some neglected and gone to
decay, and on its summit are several buildings, among
which are a barracks, armory, chapel, and governor's
house.

THE ESTUARY.

257

" William Wallace," said Mr. Blaikie, " before his
imprisonment in the Tower of London, was confined
in the armory of this fortress, where his famous two-
handed sword, nearly as tall as an ordinary man, is
still retained. Since that time to the present day.

DUMBARTON CASTLE.

the highest peak of the rock is called ' Wallace's
Seat,' and the highest part of the castle 'Wallace's
Tower.' "
" There must be many historical reminiscences
connected with this old castle ? " I remarked.
"Very many," he replied. "The infamous Sir
John Monteith was Governor of it during the con
finement of Wallace, whom he had betrayed. The
body of Edwin, son and heir of Lord Ruthven, who

258 benedict's wanderings.
feU in defence of WaUace, was entombed in the
chapel of the fortress. The castle was successively
'occupied by Charles I. and Oliver Cromwell, during
the struggle that preceeded the Commonwealth.
Queen Mary was conveyed thither from France, in
her infancy; and during the wars that desolated
Scotland in her reign, it was captured by Captain
Crawford of Jordanhill, a distinguished adherent of
the king's party, who, with a small body of foot
soldiers, guided by a deserter from the castle, scaled
the wall at the highest point, slew the sentinel, and
surprised and overpowered the garrison. There are
yet other important events which I do not now
remember. Being one of the four fortresses stipu
lated to be kept up at the union of Scotland with
England, it is still in , repair and occupied by a
garrison."

CHAPTER V.

THE ARTIFICIAL RIVER.

^^ffiROM Dumbarton to Glasgow, what was for-
a5^K merly the channel of the river, with three or
^-(5^ four feet of water, has, within a few years,
been deepened and walled, so that it now forms a
grand canal, through which vessels of a thousand
tons can pass with ease to the centre of Glasgow.
Prior to the construction of this canal, the goods of
the merchants of the city were embarked and dis
embarked at "a place called Port-Glasgow, nearly
opposite the castle of Cardross, the importance of
which has since greatly declined.
Before reaching Bowling Bay, where we leave the
estuary and enter the canal-channel, on the right
bank, is the little proraontory of Dunglass Point, the
western termination of Antoninus' Wall. On this
point may be seen the ruins of Dunglass Castle, a
formidable fortress of the Colquhouns. It is now
the property of Buchanan of Auchintorlie, a branch
of the family from which our President of that name.

260 benedict's wanderings.
was descended. On this point also, and within full
view from passing steamers, stands the monument
recently erected to the late Henry Bell, who, as
already stated, introduced steam navigation on the
Clyde. A short distance above Dunglass Point, is a range
of lofty heights, known as Kilpatrick Hills, and
between these and the river is the village of Kilpat
rick, by Scotch writers clairaed to have been the
birth-place of Patrick, the tutelar saint of Ireland.
Other writers say he was born in Wales, and others
still, that he was a native Irishman ; but I believe it
is now generally conceded that, he was born in that
part of France which is called Boulogne. Writers
still disagree as to his origin, some maintaining that
he was of Roman extraction, while others claira that
he descended frora the Jewish captives, brought to
Rome by Titus, after the destruction of Jerusalem.
Of this there is probably no doubt, that his father
was Calphornius, and his mother Conchessa, the
latter a native of France ; and that his name was
Succath, until the Pope conferred on him the Patri
cian order with the title of Patricius.
To the above I may add, as facts of more than
ordinary interest, that Succath, afterwards Saint
Patrick, was of the two hundred natives of Boulogne
captured by NiaU, King of Ireland, in the beginning

THB ARTIFICIAL RIVER. 261
of the fifth century, and by him carried to Ireland
and sold into slavery. After seven years slave-service
he returned to France, and was educated at Tours, in
the famous seminary of St. Martin ; and after twenty
years spent in study and meditation in retreats of
piety, having received the benediction of Pope St.
Celestine, and espiscopal consecration from Bishop
Amatorix, in Evreux, Normandy, entered upon his
great work, in the year 432, the conversion of Ireland.
On the opposite side of the river we saw the old
mansion-house of Erskine, anciently the seat of the
Earls of Mar, and latterly of the Blantyre nobility.
Higher up, on the sarae side of the river, where the
waters of the Black and White Cart flow into the
Clyde, Inchinnan Bridge was pointed out as near the
spot where the Earl of Argyle was captured in the
year 1685 ; and still higher up, the ancient burgh of
Renfrew, now a town of raean appearance, as the
place where Soraerled, Thayne of Argyle and Lord of
the Isles, who had rebelled against Malcolm IV., was
defeated and slain in 1164. The baron j' of Renfrew
was the first possession of the Stuart family in Scot
land ; and it gives the title of Baron to the Prince of
Wales — Baron Renfrew, under which he made his
tour in America.
From this point to Glasgow, on both sides of the
river, there are many pleasant suburban villas, and a

262 benedict's wanderings.
number of imposing country seats, of which I shall
only mention Jordanhill, two miles below the village
of Govan, the seat of James Smith, Esquire, but
formerly the residence of Ca])tain Crawford, who
distinguished himself, as already mentioned, by the
capture of Dumbarton Castle, during the reign of
Queen Mary.
Entering the harbor, the object that particularly
attracts the attention, is Broomielaw Bridge, a superior
structure, faced with Aberdeen granite. It consists
of seven arches, and is five hundred feet in length, and
sixty in width, being seven feet wider than London
Bridge.

CHAPTER VL

THE CUSTOMS.

[tilfiERHAPS the most remarkable features of the
city, all things considered, are the improve
ments of the river, before mentioned, and the
accommodation provided for shipping. The harbor at
the Broomielaw is an artificial basin, several hundred
feet in width, and more than a mile in length, fur
nished with long ranges of quays and sheds, capable
of accommodating vessels of nearly every description.
Not-withstanding these noble improvements, however,
the space is so limited that there was scarcely room
when I was there for the immense shipping in the port.
In raany places the vessels were crowded so closely
together that they almost touched as they lay at anchor.
The nuniber was not so great as in some other cities I
have visited, but I remember no one in which the
masts, yards, booms and gaffs of the craft, great and
small, gave the harbor so much the appearance of a
forest in winter. This effect was particularly notice
able as we approached, the city.

264 benedict's wanderings.
When our vessel had brought us within sight ofthe
steeples of the city, or, rather, within view of the spars
of the great ships in the harbor Bachelor endeavored
to prepare me for the ordeal through which I had to
pass at the hands of the Customs' officers. At Lon
donderry I had given my baggage into his charge,
retaining the keys of my trunks and valises ; and at
Glasgow he had stored them in a Government ware
house, subject to inspection on my arrival. To my
inquiry as to what these officers said and did, he
replied by giving a minute account ofthe transaction.
Said he : " Two fellows as big as Dinnie came at me
with a rush. I put down ray valise, produced the
key, turned the lock, opened the raouth, and exposed
my worldly effects — principally a tooth brush and
extra paper collar.
" One of the officers looked into the valise and said
nothing; the other followed the Scripture injunction,
' Go thou and do likewise.'
" Then the first officer said — ' Have you any
tobacco? '
" ' Only this,' I replied, producing my box, in
which was sufficient, perhaps, for two or three ordi
nary cttds.
"Have you any liquors?' deraanded the other,
sharj)ly. " ' Alas ! no,' I replied. ' A friend of mine, one

THE CUSTOMS. 265
Benedict, before parting from rae at Londonderry,
drank the last drop I had, that he might haye some
thing to keep me in remembrance.'
" ' Have you any American reprints? ' demanded the
first officer, with a scowl that made me tremble.
" ' 0, no,' said I, quickly.
"' What's this? ' said he, snatching up my extra
paper collar, and pointing to some letters impressed
in the band.
" ' 0 ! ' said I, ' that is " Lockwood's improved,"
the mark ofthe manufacturer.'
" ' Lockwood ! ' said ho, thoughtfully; then whis
pered soraething to his corapanion.
" ' Lockhart,' I think,' said the other, ' though I
am not quite certain.'
" The son-in-law and biographer of Scott,' said I,
guessing at the subject of their conversation, ' was
Lockhart.' "The fellow looked at me — indeed, they both
looked at me as if they thought I was trying to
deceive them.
" ' However,' said I, ' if you have any doubt on
the subject, let the article be confiscated.' "
At this point Mr. Blaikie, who had been Ustening
to the narration, burst into laughter, and others nigh
followed his example. I was not quite certain
whether it was at what Bachelor had said in his

266 benedict's wanperings.
inimitably funny way, or at my own lugubrious
countenance. Indeed, I had heard such frightfu
stories of these custom-house inspectors, or tide-
waiters as they are called in Great Britain, that to
me his words were  ' ' conflnnations strong
As proofs of holy writ."
At the moment I was endeavoring to conjecture, if an
extra paper collar occasioned so much trouble, what
would become of my elaborate outfit for the heathen
of Africa.
Bachelor looked at Mr. Blaikie and smiled ; and
the latter apologized for his- boisterous interruption.
It is perhaps needless to say, that the account of that
inspection was left unfinished.
Soon after, at about three o'clock, post meridian,
we reached the Broomielaw, and I went ashore into
the sheds, where I delivered myself over tremblingly
to the tender mercies of the customs' officers. It was
on Friday, and I thought -with myself, as I waited
for my turn, " 0, unlucky day ! "
Presently an officer approached, and after looking
at a paper which Bachelor produced, conducted me
to a room in which ray baggage was secured. Next
followed the inquiries propounded to Bachelor but
not precisely as he had re[)resented : "Have you any
liquors, tobacco, or Araerican reprints?" On being

THE CUSTOMS. 267
assured that I had none, the officer carefully lift(!d
the uppermost article in each of my trunks, gave a
poke here, a push there, a squeeze in another place,
and — the duty was performed. It seemed to me a
very cursory examination, yet I think the fellow was
so well satisfied that he would have taken his oath
my baggage contained no contraband article of any
character. I was next furnished with a customs'
stamp, and permitted to wander whithersoever I
desired in the Queen's dominion.

CHAPTER VII.

OTHER CUSTOMS.

Jn leaving the sheds, I procured a carriage for
Bachelor and myself, into which we entered
ij5 after seeing my baggage safely aboard. Of
course I put up at the inn where my friends were
stopping, the Argyle Hotel, on the corner of Argyle
and Union streets. We were driven thither at a very
fair rate of speed, and stopped short in front of a
great archway. Bachelor filled my arms with wraps
and umbreUas, and said he would look after the rest
of my baggage. I turned from the carriage and
surveyed the house, but could discern no place of
entrance. I concluded it was round the corner, and
was about to start upon a voyage of discovery when
Bachelor, who had been observing me and enjoying
my embarassment, whispered in my ear — " Enter
through the archway." I felt a little mortified at
my ignorance, although I had never seen anything of
the kind in America.
Passing through the archway, I found myself in a

OTHER CUSTOMS. 269
large court-yard, where a flight of broad steps led up
to a hall or passage. This I entered, and looked for
an office, bar-room, or some other apartment where I
might relieve myself of the load I had ; but nothing
of the sort could I discover. At length I perceived a
bell, which in my perplexity, I rang loud enough to
alarm all the inraates of the house. Immediately a
pleasant, pretty, plump Scotch girl — " a bonnie
lassie" — ^made her appearance, and conducted me into
the parlor.
" Where is the office? " I inquired.
" We have none," she repUed.
" Well, the bar-room?"
"We have none."
" Is not this a hotel? " I demanded, a little crossly.
"0, yes, sir," .she answered with a smile, "and
the best in the city."
"Well, then, allow rae to look at the register? " I
returned. " I do not know what that is," she replied, " but
we have nothing that goes by any such name."
"Have you a landlord? " I inquired, beginning to
think the giri a Uttle " daft."
" Noj sir ; but there is a lady. If you wish apart
ments, I will inforra her? "
"¦ Of course I do," said I, rather impatiently.
The girl smiled, tripped to the door, dropped a

270 benedict's wanderings.
courtesy and vanished. Before I had time to smooth
my slightly ruffied temper, a young lady of pleasing
address and attractive manners, entered the parlor.
Expecting to meet a woman of sixty, gray, wrinkled
and cross, you raay iraagine my surprise. But I
soon found that, though a young woman, she under
stood her business thoroughly ; or, as we say in
America, she " knew how to run a hotel," at least,
after the English fashion.
Bachelor, who, unperceived by me, had enjoyed the
scene between the serving maid and myself, now
carae forward to save me from further embarassment.
"Allow me," said he, addressing the hostess, "to
introduce my friend Benedict, the gentleman to whom
I referred on taking the apartments."
Bachelor having arranged everything, I had only to
take possession. Our rooms were three in number,
two bed-rooms and a parlor between, the latter also
serving as a dining-roora. Altogether, they were
commodious and satisfactory.
Having adjusted my baggage, I subjected myself to
a thorough ablution, which I never more enjoyed,
and then made my toilet. By this time, beginning
to feel the pangs of hunger, I inquired of Bachelor at
what hour we dined.
"Wei;' he repeated. "Who? You and I, or
the guests of the Argyle? You forget that we are

OTHER CUSTOMS. 271
on ' the other side of the big pond,' where everything
in the forra of a hotel is conducted on what we style
at home ' the European plan.' "
Though I knew the fact, it had not occurred to me
at the moment, that there is scarcely such a thing
abroad as an ordinary, or table d'hote. It is in Scot
land, as nearly everywhere else, apartments and
attendance are furnished at stipulated prices, while
meals are served when ordered, and charged for
according to quantity and quality.
Wishing to exercise my lower limbs a little after
the confinement on board the vessel, I rang the bell
and ordered dinner, leaving it to the hostess to supply
us with whatever could be quickest served. I do not
now recollect what we had, but I remember that the
dishes were delicious, and served in so short a time as
led to the suspicion that we had enjoyed some other
body's dinner.

CHAPTER VIII.

AULD ACQUAINTANCE.

^mIt was SO late before we got through dinner that
u"ll I
p"% Bachelor, who is not over-fond of locomotion,
i^j^f particularly of a pedestrian character, thought
a stroll in Buchanan street, and a look at the elegant
shops and fashionable people, preferable to a ramble
in George Square or the Necropolis. To a cer
tain degree indifi'erent whither I went or what I
saw, I subraitted cheerfully ; and, a few minutes
later, we were threading our way through a crowd such
as one seldora raeets outside of Broadway and the
Bowery in our own great metropolis. For a time
the shops and show-windows, and the modes and
manners of the people amused me ; and then I grew
tired of the sameness, and still more of the multitude
who met and passed me with scarce a glance at my
strange face, and never a look of recognition. Not
withstanding the presence of my corapanion, I began
to realize that feeling of loneliness which Moses
experienced in the land of Egypt — " I have been a

AULD ACQUAINTANCE. 273
stranger in a strange land." My thoughts reverted
to the many friends and acquaintaince I had left
behind, and the words of the peasant poet involun
tarily escaped my lips :
" Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to min' ;
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o' lang syne ? ''
" Certainly not," replied Bachelor, who divined
the tenor of my thoughts. " If you have stretched
your Umbs sufficiently, let us return to the hotel
There we shall find ' auld acquaintance ' to enliven
your spirits.
" The Count and Countess di Lavarella ?" I sug
gested. "Yes," he returned, "and the winsome, widow.
Why do you omit her ?"
It was the inquiry — aye, the very words I had used
in chiding him ; but I could not say, as he had, that
her name was on my tongue, though I must confess
that she was in my mind.
" Yes, and the winsome widow," I replied, in his
own language.
Returning, we found the Count in a state of ennui-
I use the French term, as it expresses more than
dullness or languor — weariness coupled with disgust.
He had hoped, upon his arrival in Scotlard, to find

274 benedict's WANbERlNGS.
his brother. Professor di LavareUo, (of whom I shall
have something to say when I reach Genoa,) in the
city of Edinburgh. It was there he was to remain
until my arrival, that he might enjoy, as he said, in a
compliraentary way, "the pleasure of my company
on the voyage to Italy." But his brother having gone,
he decided to reraain in Glasgow until the departure
of the steamer.
The Countess di Lavarrello I had seen but two or
three times during the voyage, and always under the
affliction of sea-sickness. Even then she was at the
same time easy and dignified in her deportment, •
though I thought her a little too reserved in conver
sation. But now I discovered that it was in conse
quence of her temporary iUness ; for though she spoke
English but imperfectly, she conversed upon various
topics with freedom and fluency, and on matters con
cerning her own country with marked intelligence.
After a time, Mrs. Maxwell joined our circle, with
her soft smiles and winsome ways, reminding me of
MUton's picture of Eve, if I may be allowed to apply
his description to any other mortal :
"Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye,
In every gesture dignity and love."
She brought into our midst so much vivacity, that
even the Count was aroused from his lethargy, and
Bachelor, though still under the enchantment of " the

AULD ACQUAINTANCE. 275
ship's beauty," the Maid of Inverness, admitted that
she would make a most desirable wife for any raan
who was not a monogamist.
In the course of the evening I availed myself of a
favorable opportunity to inquire if she had put
Bachelor to the test I had suggested. At flrst I
think she was a little displeased, but presently she
remarked, in a tone that clearly implied a sense of
injury, that she failed to appreciate a practical joke
of such charafter. Without knowing the result of
their interview, I felt assured that the plan I had
devised for the discomfiture of Bachelor, had gone to
swell the evidence of the truth of what the jioet sung
to the mouse :
"The best laid schemes o' mice and men
Giing aft a-gley."
Though he had beaten me twice, I did not despair
of final triuraph ; but contented myself at the
moment, with the remark that " Time, the great
arbiter of events," would, in some way, settle the
point of dispute to her satisfaction. There was some
thing in the earnestness of ray manner that saved me
from her further displeasure, though I doubt if it
convinced her of my truthfulness.

CHAPTER IX.

ST. MUNGO'S TOWN.

1

iHE next morning, soon after breakfast, I ad-
^ dressed a note to Mrs. SmaU, and despatched
^^» it by a messenger, inquiring if it would be
agreeable to her and daughter, and at what hour, to
join Bachelor and myself, with* Mrs. Maxwell, in a
drive of observation about the city. She had re
quested of Bachelor the jirivilege and pleasure as she
termed it, of pointing out the objects of interest on
my arrival, and she replied, by the same raassenger,
that she would be delighted to bear us company, and
would be ready at any tirae we might be pleased to
call within half an hour after her note was received.
Before leaving the hotel, Mrs. Maxwell gave a
message to the hostess for her brother, should he
arrive in her absence. She had expected him every
day for nearly a week. He was to have met her on
the arrival of the Columbia, but had informed her
by letter that he was detained as a witness in one of
the courts of Edinburgh. On learning this fact she

ST. MUNGO's TOWN. 277
would have gone on to Dalkeith, had he not at the
same time requested her to remain, the transaction of
some business requiring him to visit Glasgow.
Among all the acquaintances I formed in crossing
the Atlantic, not one contributed more to my enjoy
ment than Mrs. Small. In addition to many little
favors, which only a kind-heart(}d woman ever extends
to a stranger, she was always ready to. amuse the
weary -with her never failing fund of anecdotes ; and
I, who ara not averse to pleasantry, came in for a full
share of this exceUent entertainment. On meeting
her again, she cordially welcomed me, not only to
Scotland, but to her own horae, where the guest is
the recipient of generous hospitality.
The daughter was not so cordial ; indeed, I thought
her somewhat reserved. Evidently she had not yet
forgotten her sea-sickness, or that I had contributed
to its duration. I think she still felt herself a-
Grieve-di. Before setting out, Mrs. Small inquired if I had
any particular places in view, or if it would devolve
upon her to make the selection. Of course I preferred
the latter, only stipulating that we should visit as
raany objects as possible, beginning with those of the
greatest interest.
" The Cathedral," said Mrs. Small, addressing the
coachman.

278 benedict's wanderings.
Our course lay through Argyle street to the Cross,
thence through High street, the principal thorough
fare of the ancient town of St. Mungo, to the Cathedral.
The distance was considerable, and as the coachman
favored his horses, it afforded us an opportunity to
learn something of the early history of the city.
At present, in point of wealth, commerce, and
population, Glasgow is the third city in Great Britain.
Including that portion on the south side of the Clyde,
the population is about half a million. Yet, like
most of the great cities of the world, it had but an
insignificant beginning, and gradually developed,
through a period of several centuries, to its present
vast proportions.
" The reputed founder of the city," said Mrs. Small,
" was St. Mungo, or, as he is soraetiraes styled, St.
Kintigern. He is supposed to have established the
bishopric of Glasgow, where the upper and older part
of the town still remains, about the middle of the
sixth century."
As we jogged along through High street, I could
scarcely reaUze that we were passing over a way that
had been in use for more than thirteen hundred years.
" From the time of St. Mungo," continued Mrs.
Small, " to the early^part ofihe twelfth century, the
history of the city is involved in obscurity. Then the
Cathedral, which we are about to behold, was erected

ST. MUNGO'S TOWN. 279
by .John Achaius, Bishop of Glasgow, and dedicated
to St. Mungo. The exact year is in dispute, but it
was in the reign of David I."
" As St. Mungo established the bishopric of Glas
gow," I remarked, "he must have erected some sort
of a structure for religious worship. Is there any
trace of such an edifice? "
" I think not," she replied. "About thirty years
ago the Government repaired and renewed certain
parts of the building which had fallen into decay, and
during the progress of the operations several frag
ments of mouldings were found, which had been used
for filling in some of the walls, of a much older date
than any part of the Cathedral, thus proving the
existence of a previous structure. These mouldings,
some of which were preserved, are of beautiful work
manship. But they may have belonged, and probably
did, to some religious edifice erected long after tbe
period of St. Mungo.' '
The Cathedral occupies a most picturesque position,
on the bank of a dark ravine, from which it is sup
posed the name of the city was derived. Though
erected by Achaius, in the beginning of the twelfth
century, it received many additions and embellish
ments, by successive prelates, as far down as the
Reformation. Originally, it contained three churches,
one of which, the Old Barony, was situated in a vault.

280

benedict's wanderings.

There is a description of this church in Rob Roy, as
it appeared at a much later period, for reference is
made to a "portion which was seated with pews." But
according to the early history of the city, there were
no seats in the Cathedral until near the close of the

GLASGOW CATHEDRAL.
sixteenth century. It occurring to the kirk-session at
that time that seats would be a great convenience,
they caused certain ash trees in the church-yard to be
cut down for the purpose of making forms, or benches
without backs.
"But," said Mrs. SmaU, in relating this anecdote,
" so ungaUant were the men of that period, that they
actuaUy forbade the women to sit upon these benches,

ST. MUNGO's TOWN. 281
and required them to bring with them stools for their
accommodation. "
This incident reminded me of a missionary church
in one of our western states or territories, which the
minister in charge, in his official report, described as
so poor, that " every man is obliged to carry his own
cushion, and the fattest man has the softest seat."
ReUgious worship in the Old Barony has been long
ago discontinued, and the space occupied by the second
church has been thrown into the choir, or central part
of the fabric. At present the structure is in the form
of a Latin cross, in the early pointed style of architec
ture, the pure Gothic. It is in length three hundred
and nineteen feet from east to west. The nave is
one hundred and fifty-six feet long, sixty-two wide,
and ninety high ; and the choir, the part now used
for worship, is ninety-seven feet long and sixty wide.
The tower and spire rise from the centre, to the
height of two hundred and twenty-five feet. The
large eastern window is beautifully stained, and the
organ screen is as beautifully carved. Adjoining are
the Chapter-house and the Lady Chapel, the latter
especially noticeable for its architectural beauty.
There are three crypts, intended as a place of inter
ment for th'e magnates of the Cathedral, for beauty of
design and excellence of execution said to be unequalled
by any in the United Kingdom,

NECROPOLIS, GLASGOW.

1 Jews' Ground,
3 John Knox,
3 Dr. Dick,

4 McGa-vin,
5 Colin Dunlop,
6 Major Monteith,
7 Facade,

8 Bridge ot Sighs,
9 Egyptian Vault.
10 Col. Pattison.

S*. MUNG0*S TOWN. 283
In the vicinity of the Cathedral and St. Mungo' s
Burial Ground, some ofthe benevolent institutions of
the city are situated ; among others the Royal Infirm
ary, a large and elegant structure, the Asylum for the
Blind, and the Institution for the Deaf and Dumb.
Across the Molendinar Burn, spanned by the Bridge
of Sighs, is the Necropolis, anciently the Fir Park,
and believed to have been one of the dark retreats of
the Druids. It is a bold and' rocky eminence, rising
to the height of nearly three hundred feet, and form
ing a noble background to the Cathedral. It is
entered through a gateway in the Italian style, and is
laid out in walks, and ornamented with trees, shrubs
and flowers, which give it more the appearance of a
garden than a cemetery. It contains almost innu
merable monuments, of nearly every conceivable
description, some of whicli are very superior in design
and execution. Among the most noticeable are those
erected to Rev. Dr. Dick, the author, William
McGavin, Colin Dunlop of Tolcross, Charles Tennant
of St. RoUox, Major Monteith and Colonel Pattison.
The most conspicuous, however, is the Doric Column,
surmounted by a statue, raised to the memory of John
Knox, the great Reformer. It is situated on the
most elevated spot of the Necropolis.

1 1

CHAPTER X.

OTHER OBJECTS.

|R0M the Necropolis, we returned through High
I street, as far as the Cross, stopping on Our way
to view the city and county Bridewell, a struc
ture in the old Saxon style of architecture, capable of
accommodating three hundred prisoners ; and the
House of Refuge, an institution for the reclamation
of juvenile thieves. Passing the " Bell of the Brae,"
where a severe action took place between the English
under Percy, and the Scotch led by Wallace, result
ing in the defeat of the English and the loss of their
commander, we diverged into Drygate and Rottenrow,
two very old streets, in the most ancient part of the
city, and in the latter of which stood, at one time, the
manses of the prebendaries of the Cathedral ; but
there were few houses left of any considerable anti
quity, and none old enough in appearance to have
belonged to the remote days of St. Mungo.
As I reside at the seat of a celebrated university, it
was but natural that I should feel an interest in the

OTHER OBJECTS. 285
progress of education, and in the institutions for its
promotion. Of these there are many in Glasgow, the
University, with more than a thousand students, being
at the head. The Andersonian University, founded
about eighty years ago, for the education of unaca-
deraical classes, by John Anderson — for anything I
know to the contrary, a descendent of
" John Anderson, my jo, John,"
to whom Burns has given immortality — is the second
in importance, and not only enjoys a large annual
attendance, but also a growing popularity. Besides
these are the Mechanics' Institution, the flrst of the
kind established in Britain ; the High School, under
the supervision of the corporation ; the Normal
Seminaries of the EstabUshed and Free Churches, the
former the flrst of the kind in Scotland ; and numer
ous elementary schools.
On our way back, we visited the old buildings of
the University, fronting- on High street. This vener
able institution was founded by Bishop TurnbuU,
about the middle of the fifteenth century, under a
bull of Pope Nicliohis V.; and towards the close of
the seventeenth century had rt-achL-d the highest fame,
importance- and utility. The buildings are imposing
in their appearance, though the uniformity and pro
priety of the structure have been marred by altera
tions in modern styles of architecture. The street

286 benedict's wanderings.
front, for instance, dating from the middle of the
seventeenth century, is in the Elizabethan style of
architecture. At the northern extremity, under an
archway, elaborately carved in stone, is the entrance
to the principal court, an area of considerable extent,
in which were the houses of the professors.
But this venerable pile, at the time I was there,
was no longer devoted to the cause of education. It
had been sold to a railway company, and was thence
forth to be a station for the accommodation of the
traveling public. Even as we surveyed the massive
walls, some of them were being removed by the com
pany to adapt the remainder to their purposes ; while
on Gilmore Hill, at the west end of the city, a new
stone building was in the course of construction for
the University.
At the Cross, which forms a centre whence various
streets diverge, is the Tontine, a spacious edifice, with
a handsome piazza. The News Room of this Hotel,
formerly called the Coffee-Room, was, before the
'erection of the New Exchange in Queen street, the
great focus of business and politics. Years ago the
jail and court-houses stood near the Cross, and in
front of them criminals were executed. The Town-
haU still remains, and is one of the oldest of the
pubUc buildings of the city.
Passing through Saltmarket, rendered famous by

other objects. 287
Scott, in his story of Rob Roy, as the abode of Bailie
Nicol Jarvie, we entered Bridgegate, to see Silver-
craigs House, where Cromwell is said to have lodged
when in Glasgow. Thence we proceeded to the
Queen's Park, commonly called the Green, a hundred
and forty acres of smooth verdent lawn, on the right
of which are the court-houses and jail, built in the
Grecian style of architecture. In front of these the
annual Glasgow fair is held, and it is also the present
place of public executions. The Park is surrounded
by a carriage drive of over two miles in length, near
which, at one point, is an Egyptian obelisk, one
hundred and forty-four feet in height, erected to the
memory of Nelson.
Here we obtained a fine view of the Clyde, which,
at high tide, appears to great advantage. At the
distance of a few miles are the Cathkin Braes, con
taining raany country seats, one of which. Castle-
milk, was pointed out to us by Mrs. SmaU, as the
house in which Mary Queen of Scots lodged the night
before the battle of Langside. "It is said," added
our informant, " that, frora a rock, still called the
'Queen's Seat,' on the top of Cathkin-hill, near the
Castle, the unfortunate princess witnessed the defeat
that destroyed, at the same time, her army and her
hopes." At the foot of Stockwell street is Victoria Bridge,

288 benedict's wanderings.
a handsome structure, faced with white granite, hav
ing a roadway of sixty feet, supported by five grand
arches. It occupies the site of the old bridge, which
was built by Bishop Rae in 1345, and for over four
hundred years formed the great communication
between the city and the western part of Scotland.
Left entirely to her own choice, Mrs. Small carried
us hither and thither, through all sorts of streets and
to all sorts of places, that we might behold the city,
as she said, in its worst as well as its best garbs. In
one or two streets we saw the poor in their squalor
and wretchedness, and their mean old habitations,
some of them in a tumbling condition ; and then, by
way of contrast, the elegant palatial residences of the
— as she styled them — " cotton lords " and " iron
nabobs." Observing as we eraerged frora one of these streets
that we were near the hotel, I proposed a lunch in
Miss Pender's parlor. By this time we had become a
jovial party, everything of an unpleasant character
having been forgotten, or at least forgiven. It was
then nearly two o'clock, and the hour that succeeded
was one of the pleasantest I enjoyed during my
wanderings.

CHAPTER XI.

THE MONUMENTS.

»j|T would be impossible for me to remember our
 H route, or the streets through which we passed,
or all the places of interest that came under
our observation. I remember sorae, however, — the
Post Office, the Trades' HaU, the Royal Theatre, the
Royal Lunatic Asylura, one of the best in Scotland,
and the Mechanics' Institution, which has, araong
other advantages, a fine library. Of the bank build
ings brought to our notice, I remember the National,
in the ItaUan style ; the City of Glasgow, after the
model of the Jupiter Stator at Rome ; the office of
the Western Banking Corapany, a palatial structure ;
the Clydesdale, a plain edifice ; and the Royal, after
the model of the Temple of Minerva at Athens. I
remember, too, the steeple of the old Tolbooth, which
contains a chime of bells ; and the old Tron Steeple,
a somewhat stunted but venerable looking spire, pro
jecting nearly the whole width of the pavement ; and
the Cross Steeple, a relic of the ancient civic splendor

^90 benedict*s wanderings.
of that portion of.the city. Of the places of worship,
said to number at least a hundred and fifty, some are
very beautiful edifices. St. Andrew's, of the Estab
lished Church, a building of the composite order, is
one of the oldest, and in some respects the finest in
the city. After it, the most noticeable are St. David's,
in the decorated Gothic, St. George's and St. Enoch's,
in the Roman, and St. Jude's, in the Egyptian style
of architecture.
As the day was somewhat advanced, in resuming
our drive Mrs. Small directed the coachman to proceed
at once to George Square, taking Miller and Queen
streets in the way. We were now to be shown the
finest statues of the city outside of the Necropolis.
Though I spoke of several objects in the vicinity of
the Cross, I omitted to mention an equestrian statue
of WUliam IIL, said to be of no great merit as a
work of art ; and a marble statue of WilUam Pitt, by
Chantrey, a beautiful piece of workmanship, in the
old Town HaU. In this building are other objects of
interest, among which I observed the portraits of
some of the Scotch and English sovereigns.
In Miller street, where, a hundred years ago, the
" Tobacco Lords " had their mansions, now occupied
as places of business, is Steriing's Library, a valuable
collection of books, which are entirely free to the

the monuments. 291
public. Before the entrance to this building, is a
colossal head of Homer, by Mossman.
Many ofthe public buildings are of great architec
tural merit, though by far the most magnificent is
the Royal Exchange, in Queen street, erected about
forty years ago, at an expense to the city, of two
hundred and fifty thousand dollars. It is in the
Corinthian style, surmounted by a handsome circular
clock tower. In front of it, there is a colossal eques
trian statue, in bronze, by Marochetti, of the Duke of
Wellington, having bronze alto-reliefs on the pedestal,
of his principal battles.
In George Square, one of the most central points
in the city, there are a number of excellent monu
ments. The raost prominent of these is the pillar
erected, in the centre of the square, to the memory of
Sir Walter Scott. It is a Doric column, eighty feet
in height, surmounted with a colossal statue, in free
stone, of the great minstrel. The figure is half envel
oped in a shepherd's plaid, which, Mrs. Small informed
us had been severely criticised as being placed on the
wrong arm.
Directly in front of Sir Walter's monument are two
fine pedestrian statues, in bronze. The nearer is that
of Colin Campbell, a native of Glasgow, who quelled
the Indian mutiny ; and the other, by Flaxman — one
of his finest works — of Sir John Moore, also a native

292 benedict's wanderings.
of Glasgow, who fell in battle at Corunna, where he
was also buried :
" But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
With his martial cloak around him."
In the south-west corner of the square is a bronze
statue, by Chantrey, of James Watt, in a sitting
posture. It was in Glasgow where he began his series
of experiments in mechanical science, which resulted
in the improvement, already referred to, in the steam
engine. There was also an equestrian statue of the Queen,
and another of Prince Albert, and others which I
cannot now distinctly call to memory, of military and
civic celebrities ofthe city.
Indeed, it was by this time so late, that we were
unable longer to distinguish objects with any degree
of satisfaction.
In answer to the coachman's inquiry whither he
should drive, Mrs. Small replied to her house, remark
ing to us iinmediately afterwards, that she had caused
dinner to be prepared for the party. To obviate any
objection on the part of Mrs. Maxwell, she sent to the
hotel for her brother, should he have arrived.
Dinner was over and we were about to repair to the
parlor, when the servant announced Mr. Fraser. A
tall, handsome man, of five and thirty years perhaps
with auburn hair and a florid complexion, entered the

the monuments. 293
roora. The next moment the winsome widow, with
her arms around his neck, was clasped affectionately
to his bosom. He was her brother, aud they had not
seen each other for nearly five years.
The ceremony of introduction over, we entered the
parlor, where an hour was spent in talking about the
objects of interest we had seen during the day. At
the end of that time, Mr. Fraser and his sister took
their leave, after extending to all present a most
cordial invitation to visit them at Dalkeith.
Bachelor and I remained an hour longer, he in
conversation with the daughter, and I with the
mother. Unperceived by any one, he had availed
himself of an opportunity which the departure of the
other guests afforded, to signify that such a separa
tion would be, to him at least, most satisfactory.
I was never quite certain whether the captain's
daughter was engaged to the ship's surgeon ; or, if
not engaged, whether she was in love with him. But
I knew that, if she were either, it was useless for
Bachelor to "put the question ; " for she was one of
the kind who never trifle with their own or any other
body's affections.
As for Bachelor, I had seen him in love a great
many times, but I had never seen him quite so much
in earnest. More than once I had said to him,
" ' But screw your courage to the sticking-place,'

294 ^ benedict's wanderings.
and you may yet become an honest Benedict ; " and
yet now, such were my doubts, I was almost afraid to
afford him the desired opportunity.
What occurred during the hour mentioned I have
not the faintest idea. I observed that they were
engaged in earnest conversation, carried on in an
undertone. I observed, too, that the mother was a
little uneasy, and tried more than once to interrupt
their conversation. At length she interfered abruptly
and sent her daughter to the piano.
On our leaving the house, I noticed that Miss Small
did not invite Bachelor to call again, while her "good
night ' ' had very much the character of a final fare
well. For the space of two or three blocks we walked
side by side in silence, and then I ventured to aUude
to his tete-a-tete with the young lady. He did not
reply at once, but presently said — this and no more,
then or ever —
" She loves, but 'tis not me she loves."

CHAPTER XII.

THE WAY TO AYR.

lURING our stay in Scotland — I speak of
Bachelor and myself — we had our home, or
head-quarters at Glasgow. Thence we made
excursions to different parts of the country, sorae
tiraes for a day, but for a longer tirae on two or three
occasions. Our first trip beyond the limits of the
city was to Ayrshire, the land of Burns. It was
made the second day after our drive and dinner with
Mrs. Small, and daughter. I wished to go the next
moming, but Bachelor, for some reason, could not be
roused in time for the train we preferred. So the day
was spent in going about the city, to places not
embraced in our drive : among others, to the Hun-
terian Museum, a Grecian edifice, containing a collec
tion of books, coins, paintings, and anatomical
preparations of very great value ; the Athenaeum,
with its large library of choice books ; the Bazaar, a
general market, and the only one in that great com
mercial centre ; the St. RoUox Chemical Works,

256 senedict's wanderings.
established by Charles Tennant, who discovered
bleach- water, and Charles Mcintosh, who invented
. bleach-powder, having a chimney-stalk four hundred
and thirty-eight feet in height ; and the church of
Gorbals and the Southern Necropolis, on the opposite
side of the Clyde.
But I was more fortunate on the following morning,
for Bachelor was astir " by the peep of day," and we
were off together by the early train. The railway to
Ayr passes through a most interesting portion of the
country, including the city of Paisley, several burghs
and villages, and the vicinity of other places rich in
incident of history and tradition. The first few miles
we saw but little worthy of particular mention. We
passed a great nuraber of silk and cotton manufac
tories, and iron- works of all kinds ; and then a suc
cession of elegant villas, belonging chiefiy to the
wealthy manufacturers. But there was nothing of a
striking character until we reached Crookston Castle,
half way to Paisley. It stands on an eminence that
overhangs the south bank of the White Cart. It was
at one time the property of the Stewarts of Lennox,
and the residence of Queen Mary when receiving the
addresses of Darnley.
The city of Paisley, seven miles from Glasgow,
besides being celebrated as the birth-place of Robert
Tannahill, the poet, and John Wilson, the novelist

THB WAT TO ATR. 297
and critic, is famous for the manufacture of a variety
of articles for wearing apparel. The original manu
factures were coarse checked linen cloth and hand
kerchiefs, which were succeeded and eventually
superseded, about a hundred years ago, by the manu
facture of silk gauze, which in turn has given place
to cotton thread, embroidery, carpets, silks, velvets,
chenille and crapes. It is particularly celebrated for
its shawls, which are of silk, cotton, wool, and mixed,
the finest Cashmeres being equal in texture and
superior in design to the most celebrated productions
of the East.
The city consists of an old town, indifferent in
appearance, and a new town, of better construction,
lit with gas and partially paved, the united popula
tion exceeding forty thousand. It is a place of great
antiquity, and owes its existence to the establishment
oi an abbey, about the year 1160, by Walter Stewart,
from whom the royal family of Scotland descended.
At the time of the Reformation, the abbey formed a
magnificent pile, with an enclosure of about a mile in
circuit. After the expulsion of the monks, it was
used for a time as a palatial residence. It is now a
ruin, with the exception of a small portion used as a
parish church. The lofty chapel on the south side of
the abbey, contains a tomb, surmounted by a recum
bent female figure, which is supposed to represent

298 benedict's wanderings.
Marjory, daughter of Robert Bruce, wife of Walter
Stewart, and mother of Robert IL, the first of the
Stewart sovereigns.
Nearly every village on the way is worthy of men
tion, one for its beauty or importance, another as
being near some ancient ruin, another perhaps on
account of some historical association. Near Paisley
is the village of Elderslie, the birth-place of William
Wallace, where, according to tradition, he concealed
himself from the English, in a great oak known by
his name to this day. Beyond Kilbarchan, the next
village, are the ruins of EUiston Tower, formerlj' the
seat of the Sempills, a noble family in which poetical
talent was long hereditary. A short distance from
Lochwiunoch, a village on the side of Castle Semple
Loch, is Barr Castle, supposed to have been built
in the fifteenth century ; and on a wooded islet in
the lake, are the remains of a fort, erected, in ancient
tiraes, by Lord Serapill. In the vicinity of Beith,
about half way between Glasgow and Ayr are the ruins
of Giffen Castle, formerly a stronghold of the Mont-
goraerie family ; and in the same vicinity, near Kil-
bimie Loch, a beautiful sheet of water two miles in
length and one in breadth, are the remains of the
ancient Castle of Glengamock.
At about two-thirds of tho distance is Kilwinning,
which, it is 8a,id, derives its name from St. Winning,

THE WAT TO ATR. 299
who resided here in the eighth century. An abbey
for monks of the^ Tyronensian order, dedicated to this
saint, was erected here in the beginning of the twelfth
century, by Hugh de Moreville, lord of Cuningham,
the ruins of which still exist. A party of freeraa-
sons, who came from the continent to assist in build
ing this monastery, introduced Free Masonry into
Scotland, and by means of the lodges thay estabUshed,
the mysteries of their order were disseminated over
the rest of the country. The magnificent edifice
they erected was in a great raeasure destroyed at the
Reformation. After a hasty survey of this venerable ruin, we pro
ceeded to Irvine, about ten railes from Ayr, celebrated
as being the birth-place of Montgomery the Poet, and
of John Gait the novelist. It was also at one time,
the temporary residence of Robert Burns, a fact which
the citizens of the place delight to remember. Two
miles from Irvine, on the top of a hill, distinctly -vis
ible from the cars, are the remains of the ancient
castle of Dundonald. It was here that Robert Stew
art, afterwards Robert IL, wooed and married his
first -wife, Elizabeth Mure of Rowallan, who was
noted for her great beauty. It was here, too, that he
died, in 1390. Near the castle are the remains of an
ancient church, dedicated to the Virgin, called our
Lady' s Eirk. There is a tradition, to the effect that

300 benedict's wanderings.
James IV., in passing through this part of his king
dom, uniformly made an offering at .this kirk, of the
princely sum of fourteen shillings.
Passing the ruins of Kingscase, a charitable insti
tution endowed by Robert Bruce, we arrived at Ayr,
" Under the opening eyelids of the morn,"
to spend the day in visiting some of the objects made
famous by the " immortal verse" of the " Ayrshire
ploughman."

i<»«^-

s^

i

CHAPTER XIII.
THE LAND OP BURNS.
|HE town of Ayr is not only a parish and par-
liamentary burgh, but a seaport of some
^^» importance, though the harbor, formed by the
mouth of the river and two piers, is too shallow and
exposed. . It is said the place has greatly improved
of late years, and its business considerably increased.
At present it is quite a fashionable resortj one of its
attractions being a race-course of ninety acres. It
contains a nuraber of edifices, worthy of mention —
the county hall, the mechanics' institute, the theatre,
an arcade, an old and new church, an old and new
bridge, a town house, trith a spire one hundred and
thirty-five feet high, and " Wallace Tower," a Gothic
structure, one hundred and fifteen feet high, erected
on the site of the old wooden tower in which Sir
William Wallace was confined ; containing at the
top the clock and bells of the old dungeon steeple,
and in front a statue of the distinguished " Knight of
Elderslie," executed by James Thom, the self-taught

302 benedict's WANDERtltd(§.
sculptor of Ayr. Including the suburbs of Newton
and Wallacetown, from which it is separated by the
waters of Ayr, and with which it is connected by " The
Brigs of Ayr," it contains about 20,000 inhabitants.
Besides being the birth-place of Burns, or, rather,
the nearest town to the "auld clay biggin' " in which
he first drew breath, Ayr is not without interesting
associations. It was erected into a royal burgh by
William the Lion, at the beginning of the thirteenth
century. The " Auld Brig " was built in the reign
of Alexander IIL, about the middle of the sarae
century, by two raaiden sisters, and the " New Brig "
chiefly through the exertions of Provost Ballantyne,
to whora " The Brigs of Ayr" was dedicated. The
Fort of Ayr, built by Oliver CromweU about the
middle of the seventeenth century, included within
its walls St. John's Church, founded in the twelfth
century, the tower of which, with fragments of the
ramparts of the citadel, still remain, though in a
crumbling condition. As a compensation to the
, inhabitants for their church, which he turned into an
armory, he gave one hundred and flfty pounds towards
the erection of the present old church, which occupies
the site of a Dominican monastery, celebrated in
history as the edifice in which Robert Bruce, after he
had freed his country, held the parliament which
settled his succession.

The Land oi* BitRMs 303
From the railway station, we entered Ayr over the
"New Brig." After a look at the places above
mentioned, we proceeded direct to the "public of
repute " in which " Ae market night
Tam had got planted unco right ;
Fast by an ingle, bleezing flnely,
Wi' reaming sw.ats, that drank divinely;
And at his elbow, Souter Johnny,
His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony."
Served with a pot of ale each, we drank it, as we
were assured, on the very spot where
" The landlady and Tam grew gracious,
Wi' favors, secret, svpeet, and precious."
Instead of a local guide, we had the pleasant society
of an intelligent Canadian gentleman, well acquainted
with the places of principal interest, whose acquaint
ance we raade while sipping our ale. A Scotchman
having sung the popular song of " John Anderson,
my jo," Bachelor added another verse, embodying the
same thought in different phraseology, which so
amused and delighted the Canadian, that he at once
proposed, if agreeable to us, to join our party and
become our conductor. The acquaintance of a raore
genial good fellow, was never made through means of
an eight line irapromptu.
Under the guidance of Mr. Mortimer, our new
Canadian acquaintance, we set out on foot, and at
the distance of about three miles from Ayr, beheld

at-*

the land of burns. 305
the birth-place of Robert Burns. The house is
divided into two apartments, a kitchen and a dining
room, in the latter of which the poet was born. Ex
pecting to see "an auld clay biggin'," such as the
poet described, I found before me a cottage with stone
walls, substantially Ijpilt and in excellent condition.
These walls, however, as I understand, were built by
the Burns Association of Ayr, for the preservation of
the "auld clay biggin' " erected with his own hands
by the poet's father. Near the cottage is a hall, of
raodern construction, in which the association hold
their annual festivals.
At the distance of a few hundred yards from the
cottage, stands the monument to the memory of the
poet, erected a little raore than fifty years ago. It is
suitably situated on the banks of the Doon, between
the old and new bridges, and the grounds around it,
more than an acre in extent, are beautifuUy laid out
into walks and ornamented with shrubbery and
flowers. It is sixty feet in height, tasteful in design,
and skillful in execution. Within it are preserved
the pocket bible, in two volumes, given by the poet
to Mary Campbell, the "Highland Mary" of his
muse. On the fly-leaf of each volume, is written a
passage of Scripture, in his own penmanship, and
subscribed by his name ; and in one. of them is
preseirved a lock of the Highland lassie's hair. The

The land OF BURNS. 307
monument also cootains a marble bust of the poet,
and a copy of his portrait as originally taken by
Naysraith. The celebrated statues of Tam o' Shanter
and Souter Johnny, by Thom, are in a sraall grotto
at the south side of the enclosure.
" As you perceive," said Mr. Mortimer, "there are
two bridges over the Doon ; but they are not, as some
persons suppose, ' The Brigs of Ayr.' The latter are
those which span the waters of Ayr; besides, there was
but one bridge over the Doon in the time of Burns — the
' auld brig,' the origin of which is lost in antiquity."
The New Bridge, as it is called, stands about a
hundred yards below the Old, and is a very substan
tial structure. From it a fine view may be obtained
of the monuraent and ornamental surroundings ; as
from the base of the monument maybe had a charming
view of the surrounding scenery. After enjoying these
views, we followed the custom of tourists, and climbed
" the key-stane of the brig," where Maggie, jWith
" Ae spring brought aft her master hale,
But left behind her ain grey tail."
Near the bridge, at the entrance to the monumental
enclosure, is a neat Uttle inn, for the accommodation of
tourists, where we rested for a while, slaked our thirst
with as fine a draught of ale as any man could reason
ably desire, and fortified ourselves with a good substan
tial luncheon for the completion of our pilgrimage.

308 benedict's wanderings.
Rested and refreshed, we resumed our ramble
among the relics of the rustic bard, and soon
"Kirk AUoway was drawing nigh,
Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry.''
The walls of this ancient structure are still in a fair
state of preservation ; but all the wood-work, includ
ing the roof, has long since been taken away, to form
snuff-boxes and other memorials.
In the churchyard of AUoway, I observed many
modern monuments, among which is one of Lord
AUoway, a Judge of the Court of Session. Many of
the older monuments bear the names of persons -made
famous in the writings of the poet. But the object
of principal interest in this old burial place is the
grave of the poet's father, William Burns. It is
marked by a plain tombstone, said to be o:^ modern
construction, the original stone, of which the present
is said to be an exact copy, having been broken and
carried awajr in fragments. In this stone is cut the
epitaph penned by the poet to commemorate the
virtuous character of his father :
" O ye whose cheek the tear of pity stains.
Draw near with pious reverence, and attend;
Here lie the loving husband's dear remains,
The tender father, and the generous friend.
The pitying heart that felt for human woe,
The dauntless heart that feared no human pride ;
The friend of man — to vice alone a foe ;
For e'en his failings leant to virtue's side,"

CHAPTER XIV.

THE DRIVE.

i

ROM the Ayr to the Doon, and from the Doon
[^ to the Girvan, there is scarcely an object
worthy of notice, that has not been mentioned
in some of the poet's writings. It was impossible to
visit all of thera, as it is now impossible to describe
all those we visited. On the coast are three famous
ruins — the Castle of Greenan, mentioned in a chart
granted by William the Lion ; Denure Castle, a tall,
empty tower near the mouth of the Doon ; and
Turnberry Castle, where was born, as is believed,
Robert the Bruce, King of Scotland. In the neigh
borhood of the last ruin is Colzean Castle and the
Coves, alluded to in " Halloween ; " the farm of
Shanter, the residence of Douglass Graham, the
original of " Tam o' Shanter ; " and the village of
Kirkoswald, where the poet spent some months at
school, in the study of surveying and mensuration.
In the graveyard of this village are buried two of the
most famous of Bums' characters— Tam o' Shanter

310 benedict's wanderings.
and Souter Johnny. Even AUsa Craig, raentioned in
" Duncan Gray," a huge rock ten miles from shore, ris
ing out of the sea to the height of eleven hundred feet,
was faintly visible in the distance. But of all these
places none has received more frequent raention than
"Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon."
To make the round of all these places without the
consumption of too much time, we procured a light
spring wagon, a quick-footed team, and a driver
willing to " speed add wings " for a liberal compensa
tion. The day was pleasant, the road in good con
dition, and I doubt if any mortal, save Tam o'
Shanter on that night
" When out the hellish legion sallied,
******
Wi' monie an eldritch screech and hollow,''
ever made better time between the Doon and the Ayr.
Satisfied -with our trip to Kirkoswald — and with
our driver, who, the more he drank, the faster he
drove — we proceeded in the same conveyance to Tar-
bolton, and afterwards to Mauchline. We left Ayr,
" Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses,
For honest men and bonnie lasses,"
by the Vay of Mount Oliphant, the farm upon which
the poet spent ten years of his life, frora the seventh
to the seventeenth year, and entered Tarbolton by the
way of Lochlea, the farm upon which he spent the

thb drive. 311
next seven years, with the exception of a few months
at Irvine. There is nothing remarkable about either
of these farms, and if they had not been residences of
the poet, would attract no special attention.
On entering Tarbolton, we proceeded directly to the
public house in which the " Bachelors of Tarbolton,"
the debating society organized by Burns, held their
meetings, and spent their "threepence" a head "to
toast their mistresses." Here we spent our " three
pence " a head, and drank — Mortimer, who was a
married man, and myself to our wives and babies,
and Bachelor, poor feUow, to his perplexing sweet
hearts. What a capital meraber he would have made
of this debating club, the rules of which required that
" Every man proper for a member of this society
must have a friendly, honest, open heart; above every
thing dirty or mean, and must be a professed lover of
one or more ofthe sex."
Though an old place, Tarbolton is but small, the
inhabitants not exceeding twelve hundred. It has
manufactures of cotton, woollen and linen fabrics, a
handsome church, and a subscription library, all of
which are of a date subsequent to the time of the
poet. Yet the old house where St. James's Lodge of
Freemasons then met, and where Burns was initiated
into the mysteries of the order, still remains, and is
pointed out with pride by the citizens. It was to

312 benedict's wanderings.
the members of this lodge, when about to embark to
Jamaica, that he addressed " The Farewell: "
" Adieu ! a heart-warm, fond adieu !
Dear Brothers of the mystic tie !
Ye favor'd, ye enlighten'd few.
Companions of my social joy ! "
It would have afforded me very great pleasure to
have visited this lodge, and met the
" * * * -* social band,
And spent the cheerful, festive night ;
* honor'd with supreme command.
Presided o'er the Sons of Light."
But as it was a fortnight to the tirae of the next
meeting, I had to forego the pleasure, and content
myself with a look at the lodge-room — a small apart
ment, plainly furnished, having antiquated but valu
able jewels.
Before leaving Tarbolton, we visited the old man
sion house of Coldsfield, in " Highland Mary " desig
nated as " The castle o' Montgomerie,"
where Mary Campbell resided in the capacity of a
dairy-maid ; and afterwards the Faile, near its
junction with the Ayr, where the lovers at their last
parting, stood one on each side of the rivulet, and
" laved their hands in the water, and, holding a Bible
between them, pronounced a vow of eternal con
stancy." From Tarbolton we proceeded to Mauchline, by

THE DRI-S^E. 313
the way of Mossgiel, of which the poet and his
brother Gilbert became tenants before the publication
of his poems at Kilmarnock. It is said to be very
little changed in appearance, though more success
fully cultivated. We were shown the room in which
he wrote many of his most popular productions ; the
field in which he turned up the mouse in its nest ;
the other field in which he turned down the mountain
daisy ; and many other objects to which his notice or
his name has given interest.
In Mauchline, the narae of Burns — the older citi
zens still call hira " Rob Mossgiel " — is associated
with many localities, one of the most noted being the
house of "Auld Nance Tinnock," the "Poosie
Nansie " of " The Jolly Beggars : "
" Ae night at e'en a meery core,
At Poosie-Nansie's held the splore."
Another of the noted places is the old public house
which the poet frequented, the Whiteford Arms,
across the way from the dweUing of his " Bonnie
Jean." It was on . the window of this inn, kept by
John Dove, that he wrote the epitaph beginning —
"Here lies Johnny Pigeon."
After visiting all the principal places about Mauch
line mentioned in his poetry, we entered the Arms
and drank a glass to the memory of the " Poet" and
the " Pigeon." Thence we betook ourselves to the

314 Benedict's wan6eringS.
Nance Tinnock House, and were shown into the
parlor on the second floor, at the time of " The Holy
Fair " the chief drinking room. Here, for a while, to
the astonishment of the host, but at the same time to
his great gratification, we played the popular part
ofthe * yill-canp commentators —
? crying out for bakes and gills,"
not, however, as they did on that memorable occa
sion — " Wi' logic, an' wi' Scripture."

•f?^'^^'

CHAPTER XV.

THE POET'S GRAVE.

(g'^IJffcFTER a time, the question of What next? was
po|^ proposed and discussed. I wished to proceed
t^j^^ as far as Dumfries, where Burns spent the
last few years of his life, and where he died and was
buried. Bachelor objected, as it would require our
absence for another day. Mortimer sustained the
objection with the assurance that we had seen all the
places of any note in Ayrshire, properly " the land of
Bums." "Most persons," he added, "content them
selves -with a glance at ' The Briggs of Ayr.' ' The
Brig o' Doon,' 'AUoway Kirk,' and 'The Monu
ment.' Few ever go so far as Kirkoswald, and fewer
still diverge to Mauchline or Tarbolton."
"We left Glasgow," I returned, addressing Bache
lor, "with the intention of visiting all the places
made famous by the poet. It was at EUisland he
-wrote the tale of ' Tam o' Shanter,' and the beautiful
lines ' To Mary in Heaven.' It was there, indeed,
that others among his most popular poems were com
posed. I feel now that I should not be satisfied

316 benedict's wanderings.
if I returned without having visited his home on the
Nith." " Very weU," replied Bachelor. " Go, then, by all
means. But if Mortimer and I prefer to sleep in
Glasgow, why should we lodge in Dumfries? To
morrow, when you return, worn out with ' toil and
trouble,' you will find me waiting for you in Miss
'Pender's parlor."
By the next train northward my friends left me fbr
Glasgow, and by the next southward I left Mauchline
for Dumfries. On the way, I passed many places of
interest, some pertaining to the poet, and some to
other distinguished individuals. One of these was
Catrine, mentioned in " The Braes of Ballochmyle: "
" The Catrine woods were yellow seen.
The flowers decayed on Catrine lee."
It is now a busy raanufacturing village, but in the
time of Burns, was the seat of Dr. Stewart, and the
country residence of his celebrated son, Dugald Stew
art, Professor of Moral PhUosophy in the University
of Edinburgh. It is to these distinguished persons
the poet alludes in " The Vision: "
"With deep-struck reverential awe
The learned sire and son I saw.
To Nature's God and Nature's law
They gave their lore ;
This, all it's source and end to draw,
That, to adore."

the poet's grave. 317
Across the glen through which the " stately Luder
flows," is a magnificent viaduct, from which as the
cars are passing, may be obtained an excellent view
of " the Braes of Ballochrayle," where the poet met
Miss Wilhelmina Alexander, celebrated in his song as
" The Lass of Ballochmyle." At the junction of the
Ayr and Luder, is the spot where the poet composed
the dirge, " Man was made to mourn." Further on
is Afton Water, which gives title to one of his most
popular songs:
" Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes.''
At Thornhill I left the cars, and proceeded on
foot to the old post house of Brownhill, to see the
bedstead on which the poet was born. In the " auld
chiy biggin' " I had been shown the recess in which it
stood, and in the inn at Brownhill was pointed out
" the very bed " itself At the auction, or roup as
the Scotch say, made by Burns when leaving ElUs-
land, it was bought by a stable-boy for a trifle ; and
was subsequently sold, as a relic of the poet, for the
sum of twenty-five guineas. It is now kept in the
inn to attract customers.
Near Auldgirth Bridge, where the railway crosses
the Nith, are the mansion-houses of Friar's Carse and
Dalswinton, each occupying a most picturesque posi
tion. The latter was the seat of Mr. Miller, to whom
belonged the farm of EUisland. An admiring friend

318

benedict S WANDERINGS.

of the poet, he offered him the choice of any of the
farms of his estate in Nithsdale. It is known that
the poet might have selected one more productive,
but not another so beautifully situated. It is on the
banks of the Nith, the course of which, for some miles,

THE FARM OF ET.I.ISLAND.
may be seen from the windows of the house. The
walks on the banks of the river were fine, and this is
said to have weighed with the poet in making his
selection. And, too, " on Nith-side " was the
" Friar's Carse Hermitage," a summer-house bower,
which afterwards became a favorite resort for poetical

THB poet's grave. 319
composition, and in which were written the lines
beginning :
' ' Thou whom chance may hither lead —
Be thou clad in russet weed,
Be thou deck't in silken stole,
Grave these counsels on thy soul."
After his appointment as an exciseman, the duties
of his ride, " the area of ten muirland parishes,' '
required so much of his time, that he was obliged to
resign his lease of EUisland, and remove to Dumfries.
The house in which he here resided is situated in a
short street called Burns. It is a narrow, two-storied,
white-washed dwelling, considered respectable at the
time he Uved in it, but now of comparatively mean
appearance, and occupied as an industrial school.
Yet I could not look upon the old fabric without
emotion, knowing that within its walls were written
some of the sweetest songs of " Scotia's i^vorite
Bard." It is not far from the old house in which he last
lived and labored, to the churchyard of St. Michael's,
in which he is buried. Thither I wended my way,
that I might stand by his grave, and drop a tear to
his memory. Over his remains is a mausoleum,
erected in 1815, mainly through the exertions of
General Dunlop, a lineal descendent of Sir WUUam
Wallace. It was built by subscription, to which
George IV., Sir Frances Burdett, and many others of

320

benedict's wanderings.

the aristocracy of Great Britain contributed. Of the
many monuments in the old burying-ground, it is one
of the most conspicuous, and by far the most impor
tant. The emblematic marble, in the interior, is com
posed of a plough
and two figures,
representing the
genius of Scotland
investing Bums in
his rustic dress
with her inspiring
mantle. It con
tains a Latin in
scription, and an
epitaph in Eng
lish. For centu
ries Dumfries has
been a place of
iraportance, as the largest and strongest town in
the western marches of Scotland, and by way
of distinction is sometimes called "the Queen of the
South." It is celebrated as the place where Robert
Bruce slew John Comyn, a competitor for the throne
of Scotland. The assassination is said to have
occurred at the altar in the chapel of the old monas
tery of the Greyfriars, not a vestige of which now
remains. Yet the antiquity of the place is sufficiently

BURN^' MAUSOLEUM AT DUMFKIES.

TflE poet's grave.

321

marked by other ruins in the vicinity, the most notice
able of which are the remains of a nunnery on the
banks of the Cluden, and Caerlaverock Castle, the
ruined seat of the Maxwells, described by Sir Walter

.jS'**

^ .SI— ¦^¦;^B' _  J,.

CAERLATEKOCK OASILE.

Scott in his tale of " Guy Mannering,' ' and at the
present time one of the finest ruins in the United
Kingdom. Dumfries is beautifully situated on the banks of
the Nith, across which it communicates with its
suburb, Maxwellen, by two bridges, one of seven
arches as old as the thirteenth century. The princi-

322 benedict's wanderings.
pal structures are thejchurches andj county buildings,
a lunatic asylum, a theatre, a tower on the High
street, the work of Inigo Jones, aud a handsome
Doric column, in the principal square, erected in 1780,
in honor of Charles, Duke of Queensbury.

CHAPTER XVI.

SURPRISES.

|Y the first train the next morning, I left Dum
fries to join my friends in Glasgow. There
R^ f<^ are many lovely landscapes to delight the eye
of the traveler on the way, particularly those along
the course of the Crawick. A gentleman in the car I
occupied, pointed out a few objects of interest as we
proceeded : at one place, to the left, Drumlanrig
Castle, the seat of the Duke of Buccleuch, and to the
right, the Pass of Dalveen, through which lay the
Roman highway from the vale of the Nith to the
head waters of the Clyde ; at another, near Sanquhar,
the ruins of an old castle, famous in Scottish story as
having been once captured by Wallace and again by
Douglass; and at another, the castle of Auchinleck,
where Samuel Johnson was entertained by the father
of Boswell, his inimitable biographer.
It was still early when I left the station in the old
barony of Gorbals, and entered Glasgow by the way
of the Broomielaw Bridge. Thinking of my friend,

324 benedict's wanderings.
whom I was to meet in Miss Pender's parlor, I did
not observe a group of fellows near the entrance to
Jamaica street, until one of them left his companions
and approached. He was young, a mere stripling,
neatly dressed, and of good appearance. He smiled
as he advanced, as though he were an old acquaint
ance. There was something familiar in his counte
nance, and yet I could not bring him to my
recollection. Perceiving that he was not recognized, he remarked,
in the language of Lord Thurlow, " When I forget
my sovereign, may ray God forget me."
Though in the dress of a citizen, and in appearance
very greatly improved, I knew him then ; it was the
scape-grace, Tom Tackle, who had played the fatal
trick upon poor Malta.
"Never mind them," said he, observing me glance
at his companions. " There is nothing in common
between us, except hatred for the first officer of the
Columbia. If ever you hear that he has been beaten
on the Broomielaw until his own mother wouldn't
know him — but, mum ! "
" I fear," said I, shaking my head, disapprovingly,
' that you will get yourself into yet greater trouble."
With a light toss of his head, he reiDlied, " On that
score, give yourself no uneasiness. Instead, give me
your address, that T may return you, when in my

SURPRISES. 325
power, (I am very sorry it is not now,) the two sove
reigns I borrowed in the port of Londonderry."
As he was my countryman, and evidently under
some sort of a cloud, which might suddenly burst into
a storm over his head, I gave him my address, re
marking that it was not so much to enable him to
return the sovereigns, as to afford him an opportunity
to find me should he at any time require assistance.
Touched by my kindness, he turned his face aside,
and dropped a tear he could not suppress. Then,
recovering himself, he thanked me ; murmured a
" Good-bye," joined his companions, and disappeared.
I resumed my course, wondering as I walked
whether he had committed a crime and was a fugitive
from justice. His name was not Tom Tackle, he was
not a sailor by vocation — of these facts I felt satisfied.
Who was he? whence was he? — why had he left his
home? why assumed a fictitious name? why engaged
in an eraployraent of which he was ignorant?
In the consideration of these questions, which
suggested theraselves to my mind iu quick succession,
I forgot that my friend was waiting for rne in Miss
Pender's parlor, and walked on toward my own apart
ment. Presently the pretty serving maid came
running after me, with a note fi-om Bachelor. He
had gone out to ride in the Green with Mortimer.
A little provoked, I entered my sleeping room.

326 benedict's wanderings.
where another great surprise awaited me — a letter. I
took it up, and underneath was another, and under
that another, and under that still another — one ! two I
three ! four ! I glanced at the superscriptions, not
one of Avhich was my wife's, not one of which was
familiar. One after another, I tore them open hastily,
and devoured their contents.
The first was from Mortimer, containing his com
pliments and an invitation to dine with him that day,
at the Queen's, in George Square.
The next was post-marked Londonderry. " From
Father McQuinlan," thought I ; " or, possibly, from
Mr. O'Keeffe." Another surprise! it was from Harry
Musgrave. It was a long letter, full of facts and fun, wit and
wisdom, and lamentations for his lady-love. I pass
over all except the facts which caused his lamenta
tions. Having visited Blarney Castle, and kissed the
veritable Blarney Stone, he had returned to London
derry, fully prepared to overcome by Ius eloquence,
every objection to his espousal of the " colleen bawn."
What was his surprise on presenting himself at the
door of the old stone mansion, to be informed by the
house-keeper, a trusty old servant, that O' Keeffe and
his daughter had sailed the day before for some place
on the continent. The "young mistress," as the
servant called her, -was losing her health, and her

surprises. 327
father had taken her to a softer climate, in the hope
of her speedy recovery. But the exact place was
forgotten, and neither silver nor gold availed to stim
ulate her recollection. Up to the time of writing he
had been unable to regain any reliable inforraation.
"O'NeU was right," thought I. "O'Keeffe is
crafty, and it will require something beside the virtue
imparted by the Blarney Stone, to overcome — which
ever they are — his preferences or his prejudices."
Not a word had been spoken of this journey a few
days before when I was in Londonderry. At that
time, the " colleen bawn " was in perfect health, and
in high spirits. Had she fallen ill suddenly, or was
illness an excuse for their sudden departure?
Meditating upon this thought, I opened the third
letter, and was again surprised. It was from that
'¦'fine ould Irish gintleman," O'Neil of Downpatrick.
It was in answer to one I had written him on my
arrival in Glasgow, thanking him for his many, many
kindnesses. After a few counter-cotnpliments, and a
pleasant allusion to sorae of our astronomical re
searches, he mentioned Musgrave, who had spent the
previous night at his house, and was then on his way
to Londonderry.
" Upon my soul," added the writer, " I pitied the
poor fellow. I knew there was in store for him a
bitter disappointment. Yet I dare hot tell him, for I

328 benedict's wanderings.
had it in confidence. 0' Keeffe is dead against him,
and to make it easy for Nora, has taken her to Italy,
under the pretence of seeing the country, where they
will be joined in a few days by young O'ReiUy. Of
course you know what will be the result."
" Of course I do not," said I, in soliloquy. " If
not mistaken in Nora M'Kenna, it will require more
than the wit of 0' Keeffe and the words of O'Reilly to
control her hand, say nothing of her heart."
There was yet another letter, a dainty little missive,
addressed by the hand of a lady. The post-mark was
a dim impression, yet I could count the letters. I
thought of the " winsome widow," but there were
too many for Dalkeith; I thought of the "colleen
bawn," but there were too few for Londonderry.
There being no other way to determine, I opened the
letter. Another surprise — a greater than any ! It
was Inverness, and the writer was the " ship's
beauty," Mary MacGill.
"On board the Columbia," said the letter, "you
did me very great injustice. I told you then the time
would come when you would make due acknowledge
ment. Now I claim it at your hands, and offer you
time and place and opportunity. Five days hence
at twelve o'clock, in the High Church of this city,
there is to be a wedding, at which I am authorized to
invite you to be present. The best friend I have on

surprises. 329
earth is then to be married, and I am to stand up on
the occasion."
There was no allusion to Bachelor, or anything to
show that he had received a similar invitation.
Uncertain of the fact, I resolved to say nothing, yet
to induce hira to bear me company.
As half the day was before me, I answered the
letters I had received, and then called upon Mrs.
Small and daughter, whora I found in excellent health
and spirits, and charming in their conversation.
At the Queen' s, Mortimer Uved in fine style. The
dinner was capital and the wine superb. A friend of
his was present, Dr. Pliinkett, also a Canadian.
After dinner we had smoke and conversation, during
which Bachelor casually proposed, for the next day,
a trip to Inverness. The sly dog ! he had received
an invitation.

CHAPTER XVIL

AMONG THE ISLES.

^^^S Dr. Plunkett wished to descend the Clyde in
yp^lL a steamboat, that he niight behold Dumbarton
i^ar^ Castle ; and as Bachelor preferred the cars
that he might remain an hour longer in bed, it was
arranged that Mortimer should accompany his friend,
and I mine, and all meet at Greenock.
As we crossed the Frith of Clyde, Plunkett was
profuse in his praises of the castle, winding up with
the declaration: " It possesses every natural advan
tage necessary to make it impregnable if properly
defended." As no one was inclined to dispute this assertion, he
presently resumed: "On my return, I shall pay it a
vi^t. I wish to see the great two-handed sword of
Wallace," " The sword of Wallace is a humbug."
These words were uttered by a little, old man, thin
and wrinkled, who stood near our group, listening to
Plunkett's praises of Dumbarton.

AMONG THE ISLES. 331
Of one accord we all regarded the obtruder with
surprise, and Plunkett was about to reply, reprov
ingly, no doubt, when he added: " Pardon me, sir.
The sword you refer to belongs to the reign of Edward
v., and was carried by that monarch when he entered
the city of Chester in state in 1475."
, Turning to a Scotchman at my elbow, I inquired:
" Who is this man that is robbing your relics of half
their glory? "
" He is the Hermit of Skye," replied the Scotch
man. " He is an antiquary, a man of remarkable
research, and — well, to say the least, he is oftener
right than wrong."
The presence of an antiquary among us, had a good
effect upon that class of persons who profess to know
everything with certainty. Opinions were sparingly
indulged, and facts stated with reasonable reserva
tions ; from which we realized the advantage of
correct information.
Our boat touched at Dunoon, a beautiful watering-
place, to the left of which is a green mound, sur
mounted by the remains of Dunoon Castle, once a
royal residence, but at present the property of the
Argyle family, to which it passed in 1472." It was
besieged by the Earl of Lennox in 1554, and was
visited by Queen Mary in her progress to the High
lands.

332 benedict's wanderings.
Passing Toward Point, where there is a lighthouse,
we were shown, on the neighboring height, the ruins
of Toward Castle, a structure of the fifteenth century,
now covered with ivy and presenting a most beautiful
appearance. Elsewhere, I have spoken of Rothesay, and the
ruins of the old royal castle near the harbor. Passing ^
through the Kyles of Bute, we encounter on both
sides the most beautiful scenery. On the island, near
the village of Port Bannatyne, is an old fortified
mansion, Kames Castle, which is still inhabited.
Rounding Ardlamont Point, we entered Loch Fine,
the herring of which are celebrated for their flavor
and fatness, and crossed over to Tarbet. The bays of
Tarbet, distinguished as East and West, are only
separated by an isthmus a raile in width, across whicli
Bruce, on his way from Rachrin, drew his bark: thus
alluded to by Scott, in his " Lord of the Isles: "
'' Up Taibet's western lake they bore,
Then dragg'd their bark the isthmus o'er.
As fill- as Kilmconnel's shore.
Upon the Eastern bay."
Overlooking the town and harbor are the ruins of
Tarbet Castle, built by Bruce, and occupied by him
as a residence in 1326.
Leaving the steamer at Ardrishaig, we entered the
Crinan Canal, which is nine miles in length and con
tains fifteen locks, and passed through a marshy tract

AMONG THB ISLES. 333
of country, to the Bay of Crinan. Proceeding thence,
we were soon among the islands. Between Jura and
Scarba, on our left, was pointed out the celebrated
whirlpool of Corryvrecken, mentioned by Campbell,
Scott, and other poets.
On the north side of the harbor of Oban, surmount
ing a rocky promontory, are the ruins of DunoUy
Castle, the ancient seat of the McDougalls of Lorn ;
and farther north are the remains of Dunstaffnage
Castle, ranked among the royal palaces, in conse
quence of its having been occasionally possessed by
the early kings of Scotland. It is said that the
coronation stone in Westminster Abbey, mentioned
elsewhere in this volume, was transferred to Scone,
from this ancient seat of royalty, by Kenneth II.
At Oban, we remained over night, that we might,
on the following day, visit the ruins of lona and the
natural wonders of Stafla. Of that night,
* * * " But that I am forbid
To tell the secret, * » *
I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word
Would ¦* •* * -*
Make thy t-wo eyes, like stars, start from their spheres."
Bachelor, who was looking over my shoulder as I
wrote this in my book of memorandums, added:
'• But Ihis eternal blazon must not be
To ears of flesh and blood-"

CHAPTER XVIIL

HUMAN AND DIVINE.

^

^HE excursion to Staffa and lona occupied an
entire day. Leaving Oban, we passed Kerrera,
WW^ a narrow rugged island with which are associ
ated important recollections. It was here that Haco,
King of Norway, met the island chieftains, who
assisted him in his disastrous descent upon the coast
of Scotland. Here Alexander II. died on his expedi
tion in 1249. And here may still be seen the ruins of
Gylen, an ancient fortification of the Danes.
There was nothing more of special interest, until
we reached lona, also called Icolmkill, (that is, the
Isle of Coluraba's retreat,) a small but famous island
of the Hebrides, about three miles in length and one
in breadth. The origin of its celebrity is traced to
the fact that, about the year 565, it was the residence
of St. Columba, a native of Ireland, believed to have
been buried, near St. Patrick and St. Bridget, in the
cathedral of Downpatrick. This distinguished chris
tian preacher founded an abbey in lona, which was

HUMAN AND DIVINE.

335

celebrated in the Middle Ages, and long remained the
chief seat of learning in the North, and the center of
missionary enterprise undertaken by the Culdees. At
the Reformation, the monks were displaced, and the

l^lj^SS'iS. '4" -*-

EUINS OF lONA.
island annexed to the bishopric of Argyle, by James
YI. The nuns were allowed to remain, and contitmed
to Uve together for a long time after that event.
These celebrated ruins consist of a cathedral, a
nunnery, and a chapel. The principal edifice is the
Cathedral of St. Mary, which is one hundred and
sixty feet in length, sixty in breadth, and seventy in
height to the top of the tower. St. Oran's Chapel,

336 benedict's wANtoERti^es.
which is about sixty feet in length by twenty in width,
is the most ancient of these ecclesiastical remains. It
is in the Saxon style of architecture, and is supposed
to have been built by the Norwegians. The nunnery
is the most modern of the ruins, and had no connec
tion with the monastic institution. The style of
architecture is Norman, such as was in vogue at the
middle of the thirteenth century.
In time, by reason of its sanctity, the island obtained
preference over all other burial-places in Scotland.
No less than forty Scottish kings were buried here,
besides many of the Lords of the Isles, among the
latter MacDonald, whose tomb remains, and Ronald,
whom Scott describes as
"The heir of mighty Somerled,
***** Lord of the Isles, whose lofty name
A thousand bards have given to fame."
Many Highland families of distinction buried their
dead on the island, and erected votive chapels aud
stone crosses to their raemory. At one time the
island was adorned by three hundred and sixty of
these crosses, only two of which remain at this day,
the others having been thrown into the sea, about the
year 1560, by order of the Synod of Argyle. The
two that remain are St. Martin's, near the chapel, a
beautiful specimen of antique carving, and MacLean's,
another excellent speciraen, though not quite so per-

HUMAN AND DIVINE. 337
feet, which stands between the cathedral and the
nunnery. About nine miles from lona, is the island of Staffa,
which is about two miles in circumference. It is
composed in part of a ledge of conglomerate trap, and
in part of compact columnar basalt, the rock at one
place rising to the height of a hundred and forty-four
feet. The coast is indented with numerous romantic
caverns, the most celebrated of which are Fingal' s
Cave, Clam-shell Cave, Boat Cave, and the Cormo
rant's Cave. The latter two are small, and compara
tively of but little importance. The second, which
is the first approached, is thirty feet in height, eigh
teen in breadth at the entrance, and a hundred and
thirty in length. On one side the columns recline,
giving it the appearance of a pecten-shell, from which
it derives its name ; on the other, the wall is formed
of the ends of horizontal columns, resembling the
face of a honeycomb.
The only one, hoAvever, which we were allowed
time to visit, (the others we could only see in passing,)
was Fingal's Cave. We landed from the steamer in
small boats, and passing over a rugged causeway
formed of truncated columns, which vary from twelve
to thirty-six inches in diameter, descended by an un
even stairway a hundred feet in length, to its inner
most recesses. The undertaking is difficult, and

338

benedict's WANDERINGS.

attended with some danger, biit must be accomplished
before the grandeur of the cave can be appreciated.
It is a vast archway, nearly seventy feet in height,
two hundred and thirty in length, forty-two in"width
at the mouth, and twenty at the inner extremity.

fingal's cave.
The face of the island and sides and arches of the
cave, strongly resemble architectural designs. They
are composed of countless complicated columns, simi
lar to those of the Giant's Causeway. Indeed, the
popular tradition connects tiiese two places, and
ascribes their construction to Fingal, or Fin McCoul,
the giant.
Retuming, we passed through the Sound of Mull,
celebrated for its natural beauties, and for its histori-

HUMAN ANO DIVINE. 339
cal and traditional associations. The shores are bold
and mountainous, and on cliffs overhanging the sea
are the ruins of many ancient castles. Mingarry,
Aros, Ardtornish and Duart, the most noted of these,
were residences of Lords of the Isles. The last men
tioned was the seat of the chief of the powerful clan
of MacLeans, infamous in song and history for having
attempted his wife's destruction. He exposed her on
a rock, since known as the Lady Rock, visible only at
low tide, intending that she should be swept away by
the fiood tide ; but her cries being heard by some
fisherman, she was rescued and carried to her friends.
MacLean, who gave out that she had died suddenly,
was allowed to go through the ceremony of a mock
funeral, but was shortly afterwards assassinated by
the brother of the injured lady. Sir John Campbell of
Calder.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE WEDDING PARTY.

«3l|fl>\f

jMONG the works of man in Scotland, next to
the enlargement of the Clyde, the object most
worthy of notice is the Caledonia Canal. It
was my desire to pass through it, and I was happy
when the invitation of Miss MacGill afforded me the
opportimity. It is sixty miles in length from ocean
to ocean, thirty-seven through natural sheets of water,
and twenty-three cut as a canal, with a depth of
seventeen feet. It is navigated by steamers.
A portion of the country through which we passed
is highly interesting, while another portion has but
little to attract attention. The scenery of Loch
Linnhe, the Knolls of Appin on one hand, and on the
other the hills of Morven, is highly romantic. Loch
Oich, with its scenic surroundings, is unsurpassed for
beauty and majesty.
From BallachuUsh we proceeded by coach to Glen
coe, which exceUs all the glens of Scotland in the
gloomy sublimity of its scenery. Through a portion

the WEDDING PABTT.

341

of it sweeps the " dark torrent of Cona," on the banks
of which was born the poet Ossian. Glencoe was the
scene of the masacre of the clan MacDonald, by the
EngUsh troops, after their submission — a most in-

-^^'^^^fi'^^fti.'^^^^^^^^^^^^p

GLENCOE.

famous treachery. The ruins of the houses of this
nearly extinct clan is a scene of desolation.
Returning to the steamer, we proceeded to Benavie,
passing Fort- WilUam, originally built by Gen. Monk
to overawe the disaffected Highlanders, but rebuilt on
a smaller scale in the reign of William III. It was
late in the afternoon when we reached -Benavie, where
we were obliged to remain untU moming. During
the d&y a nu^t bad dampened myclbtb^ (in Amtrica

342 benedict's wanderings.
I should say a rain had wet them), and I went to bed
with a distracting neuralgia.
" I would not spend another such a night."
The hext morning, as the boat was about to leave
the wharf, to my infinite surprise Donald Dinnie,
covered with his many medals, stalked aboard and
procured a passage for Inverness. Not for a moment
did I doubt that he, too, was going to the wedding,
on an in-vitation from "the ship's beauty."
" Ah ! Mary MacGiU," I soliloquized, " how Uttle
room you have to upbraid me for having done you
injustice on the old Columbia. Ifl charged you with
coquetry, what is this but a proof of it? — an invita
tion to a string of admirers, to somebody's wedding,
that you may bring them again -within the power of
your bewitching influence."
After we had got fairly under way, I informed
Bachelor that his old rival was on board, and that he
was going to Inverness. Startled by the news, he
clapped his hand upon his breast; but I am uncertain
to this hour, whether it was to still his heart or to
make sure that he had his Derringer.
Dinnie, observing us, joined some friends on the
other side of thiC vessel, and during the entire voyage,
avoided a fecognitiori.'
Little of interest occurred until we reached the
mouth of the Foyers river, where the boat stopped to

THE WEDDING PARTT. 343
afford the passengers an opportunity to view the falls,
the most magnificent in Great Britain.
There are two cataracts, the upper, thirty feet high,
twice broken in its descent ; and the lower, quarter of
a mile distant, about ninety feet high, descending in
an unbroken sheet of dazzling whiteness, into a stu
pendous chasm, between gigantic rocks that rise sheer
upwards to the height of forest trees. Professor
Wilson once wrote : "It is worth walking a thousand
miles for one hour to behold the Fall of Foyers.' '
At the distance of five or six miles, the ruins of
Castle Urquhart, the last to surrender to Edward I.,
was pointed out to us ; and with that exception, I
remember nothing of special interest until we reached
Inverness. Upon leaving the vessel, Dinnie proceeded at once
to the High Church. Keeping him in sight, we
found our way without difficulty. At the church,
through the door of which he was about to pass, an
old Scotch sexton laid his hand gently on the arra of
the giant, and said, " Not without a card."
At first Dinnie was a little disconcerted, then tak
ing from his pocket- a dainty little letter, such as I
had received at Glasgow, he opened it before the eyes
of the old Cerberus, who immediately stepped aside
and bowed in a most respectful manner.
Meantime, I observed Bachelor fumbling among a

344 BBIirEDICT'S WANDERINGS.
batch of billets, with a scared look in his face, such as
we sometimes see in that of a traveler, who discovers
when about to pay his fare, that he has left his wallet
behind under his pillow.
Presently, however, he fished out from the mass
one that exactly resembled mine and Dinnie's, and
presenting it, was immediately admitted, and his
friends, with the marks of respect bestowed upon
Dinnie. An usher took us forward, and placed us in a pew
with Dinnie, next to whom Bachelor was obliged to
sit. They looked at each other, but there was noth
ing like a recognition.
After the lapse of a few minutes, the wedding party
entered, headed by a lovely lassie and — do my eyes
deceive me? — Sandy Stewart, the gawky Scotchman
to whom Dinnie entrusted his baggage on leaving the
Columbia at Moville. Behind them were another
couple, who were foUowed by another, who were
foUowed by yet another, and then — I fairly lost my
breath! — the bridal pair — the handsomest man I had
seen in Scotland, and on his arm, more beautiful than
ever, the lovely Mary MacGill.
Before I had time to think, the nuptial rites com
menced — a most impressive ceremony ; at the close of
which tbe wedding party retired, and were immedi
ately foUowted by the congregation.

THB WBDDIN<J PARTY. 345
t
" I think," said Dinnie, addressing Bachelor with
a smile, " that the scene we have just witnessed ought
to put an end to our foolish quarrel. Allow me to
ask your pardon? "
Of all men. Bachelor is the least disposed to hold
resentment, and to resist such a frank avowal of
wrong, was quite beyond his power. In five minutes
they were friends. Having introduced Mortimer and
Plunkett, we all left the church together.
From the old sexton I leamed something of the
bridal pair. The groom was William Stewart, a
young gentleman of education and wealth, and Mary
MacGill was an orphan. She had received a superior
education, but her father had squandered his patri
mony, and at his death had left her poor, and depen
dent upon her own exertions. She and Stewart were
engaged, but they had a lover's quarrel, which led
first to their separation, and afterwards to her emigra
tion to America. There she had been a governess,
until Stewart, who could not leave his business, sent
his brother to bring her back to Scotland:
" Now they are married," the old man added; "and,
thanks be to God ! on leaving the church they had
the sunshine of heaven to light their footsteps to
future bliss."
Indeed, it was so. There was a mist in the morn
ing, a heavier mist at noon when the bridal party

346 , benedict's wanderingp,.
entered the church ; but at the open'.ng of the nuptial
ceremony, the clouds broke away, and the sun burst
forth in all the glory of his < ffulgence — ^by many
people beside the old sexton, 1 bought to be . a good
omen. Repairing to the Union hotel, we ordered dinner,
and while it was being prepared, drove to Culloden
Moor, a vast desolate tract of table land, about five
miles from the town, the scene of the final defeat of
the Highland army under Prince Charles Stewart.
From this battle field can be seen the castle of Dal-
fcross, an old square tower, a hold of the Clan-
Chattan. Returning, we passed the eminence on
which stood the ancient castle in which Macbeth is
supposed to have murdered Duncan.
Inverness is a town of great antiquity. The public
buildings occupy an eminence on the south side of the
town, the site of a castle erected by Malcolm Canmore,
son of Duncan. In this castle James I. held a parlia
ment, and for several centuries it was a royal fortress.
It passed through many changes, and was eventually
blown up by the troops of Prince Charles Stewart.
Our dinner was what we had ordered — the best the
house afforded. It was served in courses, with wine.
It was spiced with lively conversation. It was, in
short, " The feast of reason and the flow of soul."

CHAPTER XX.

IN MINE INN.

Inverness has many other places of interest,
historical and traditional ; but it was impos
sible to visit them that afternoon, as the mist
of the moming, by the time our dinner was over, had
returned in the more decided form of a pelting rain.
I should have enjoyed another drive ; I think the
others were quite satisfied with their fate.
Here, one word more of Donald Dinnie. If I have
hitherto said anything that could possibly give offence
to him or his friends, I take it back without reserva
tion ; and I entreat, if they do me the honor to read
these pages — as I have no doubt they will — that they
will skip over all such passages. Dinnie — aside from
a little self-importance, the result of the many bril
liant successes he has achieved in the pecuUar field of
his ambition — is, socially, one of the very best fellows
I met anywhere in all my wanderings.
The pleasures of that evening were, to say the least,

348 benedict's wanderings.
rich, rare and racy; but I have not space, and I
regret I ha-^fe not, to speak more at length
" Of joys that faded like the morning dew."
Though we left Inverness together, at the end of a
few hours we were widely separated. At Fort-
Augustus, Dr. Plunkett left us to enjoy a visit to the
unique museum of Gordon Cumming, the great lion-
hunter, consisting chiefly of skins, skeletons and horns
of animals despatched by himself.
Near the mouth of Garry river, the ruins of Inver-
garry Castle, an ancient gathering-place of the clan
MacDonell, was pointed out; and a short distance
from Fort- William, the Castle of Inverlochy, where
Montrose achieved one of his most decisive victories.
At BallachuUsh our party divided. Bachelor and I
diverging to Loch Lomond. At Oban, Mortimer and
Dinnie were to separate, the former to proceed by way
of Inverary to Glasgow, and the latter to follow the
coast to Campbeltown, where he had friends.
Except the wild mountain scenery of Glencoe, and
the scene of the massacre of the clan MacDonald,
there was nothing worthy of notice on the route
Bachelor and f had chosen, until we reached
Tyndrum, not far from which King Robert Bruce
was encountered and repulsed, after a severe engage
ment, by the Lord of Lorn. At the distance of
about two miles, there is a cataract in the river Ettrick

o
i

350 benedict's wanderings.
caUed St. FiUan's Pool, where it was the custom, in
former times, and even as late as 1844, to immerse
lunatics, in the expectation of effecting a cure of their
malady. Again, there was nothing of interest until we reached
Loch Lomond, the largest lake in Scotland, thus
described by Scott in his novel of Rob- Roy : " This
noble lake, boasting innumerable beautiful islands of
every varying. form and outline which fancy can frame
— its northern extremity narrowing until it is lost
among dusky and retreating mountains, while gradu
ally widening as it extends to the southward, it
spreads its base around the indentures and promon
tories of a fair and fertile land, affords one of the most
surprising, beautiful, and subUme spectacles in nature."
At Inversnaid Mill, had we ascended the lake, we
should have crossed the country to Loch Katrine,
descending which the retainers of Roderick Dhu sang
the spirited song, beginning —
" Hail to the Chief, who in triumph advances !
Honor'd and bless'd be the ever-green Pine !
Long may tlie Tree, in his banner that glances,
Flourish, the shelter aud grace of our line! "
The valley between these lakes is celebrated as the
home of Rob Roy, and the birth-place of his wife,
Helen. In it is Inversnaid Fort, erected by the Gov
ernment in 1713, to check the McGregors, where
General Wolf, the hero of Quebec, once resided.

IN MINE INN. 351
Descending the lake, we observed, along the shores,
a number of fine seats, and the ruins of several ancient
castles; the most noticeable of the latter being Luss,
Barnachra, Lennox and BaUoch. Nearly opposite
Tarbet, at which the boat touches, is a cliff called Rob
Roy's Prison, where that noted chieftain of his pro
scribed and nameless clan, formerly kept his prisoners
until their ransom was paid.
Having reached the foot of the lake, we took the
train to Bowling, and thence to Glasgow, where we
arrived in the evening. After supper at our hotel, we
dropped in at the Queen's to see Mortimer, and
an'ange for an excursion to Edinburgh ; but to our
surprise, he had not yet got back. Leaving our cards,
we returned to the Argyle, and spent the evening,
very pleasantly, with our Italian friends, the Count
and Countess di LavareUo.

CHAPTER XXI.

NOT AT HOME.

"ftni?'

|iT an early hour the next morning, we repaired
to the Queen's, but Mortimer had not returned.
What had become of him? He ought to
have reached horae before Bachelor and myself, for he
had a shorter distance to travel, and over a more
expeditious route. At least, he had nothing to detain
him beyond an hour or two at Inverary, while we had
spent a day — one long to be remembered — on the lake
and mountain of Lomond. Where was he detained?
or whither had he turned aside? and for what pur
pose? It was needless to conjecture ; it was sufficient
that he was not at home.
As our time in Scotland was growing short, I was
anxious to proceed at once to Edinburgh, lest I should
be deprived of a visit — as I said, to the capital, but
as Bachelor added, to Dalkeith. It had been arranged
between Bachelor and Mortimer, before we parted at
BaUachuUsh, that whoever arrived back at Glasgow

NOT AT HOME. 353
first, should wait the coming of the other, that they
might visit the castle together, Mortimer being
famUiar with all the relics of noteworthy importance.
Of course Bachelor could not disregard his engage
ment, yet un-willing to bereave me of the pleasure I
anticipated, he proposed that I should proceed at
once, and that we should all meet the next day at the
Royal Hotel, opposite Sir Walter Scott's monument.
On the very next train I was off, by the way of
Hamilton and Lanark, that I might enjoy a view of
the magnificent ruins of Bothwell Castle and the
faUs of the Clyde.
From Hamilton I went on' foot to Bothwell Bridge,
the scene of the famous battle in 1679, between the
Royal forces, under the Duke of Monmouth, and the
Covenanters, in which the former gained an easy
victory. In the viUage of Bothwell, a little further on, are
the remains of an ancient Gothic church, in which
Robert, Duke of Rothesay, who was afterwards starved
to death by his uncle, the Duke of Albany, in Falk
land Palace, was married to a daughter of Archibald
the Grim, Earl of Douglass.
Half a mile beyond the village, are the ruins of
Bothwell Castle, now the property of the Countess of
Home, to whom it receded, a few years ago, on the
death of her uncle. Baron Douglass. It is a noble

NOT AT HOME. 355
structure, built of red free-stone, and consists of an
oblong quadrangle, built in the Norman style of
architecture. In length it is two hundred and thirty-
four feet, by about a hundred in width ; and the walls,
which are fourteen feet in thickness, are sixty in
height. It contains an immense circular dungeon,
twenty-five feet deep and twelve wide, called Wallace's
Beef-barrel. The origin of this castle is unknown ; it was first
heard of in the time of Wallace. It then belonged to
Sir Andrew Murray of Bothwell, who was the first
nobleman to join the humble hero in his attempt to
achieve the independence of his country, and the last
to forsake him after his failure.
On the south side of the Clyde, directly opposite to
Bothwell Castle situated on the brink of a perpen
dicular rock, are the ruins of Blantyre priory, alluded
to in a fragmentary ballad of Scott :
" If chance, by Bothwell's lovely braes
A wanderer thou hast been.
Or hid thee from the summer's blaze
In Blantyre's bowers of green, — "
Returning to Hamilton, I visited Hamilton Palace,
the seat of the Duke of Hamilton, which is said to
contain the finest collection of paintings in Scotland.
The park is truly magnificent, embracing a great
variety of wild wood and water scenery, and the ruins
of Cadyow Castle, the ancient baronial residence of

356 benedict's wanderings.
the family of Hamilton, near which are the remains of
the Caledonia forest, the trees of which are twenty-
five feet and upwards in circumference.
, At MotherweU station, I took the cars again for
Lanark, through " one uninterrupted series of grove,
garden and orchard — a billowy ocean of foUage, wav
ing in the summer wind, and glowing under the
summer sun," and popularly known as " The Land of
Fruits." Between these places I noticed a number of hand
some seats, and near the junction of the Nethan and
the Clyde, situated on a single rock, overhanging the
former stream, the ruins of the Castle of Craignethan,
an extensive fortress, the seat of Sir James Hamilton,
a man noted for his sanguinary character in the reign
of Edward V.
Further on, where the channel of the river becomes
narrow and rugged, is the Fall of Stonebyres, the
first of the falls of the Clyde. It is a scene of great
grandeur. In visiting the other falls, I went first to Ben
nington Linn, the uppermost, two miles from Lanark,
by a path through lhe grounds of Bennington House.
Here the water falls over a perpendicular rock about
thirty feet high, and then rushes on with fearful
rapidity, through a chasm so narrow at one place
that it might be stepped across. Half a mile below

leaps, together about eighty-five feet — next to Foyers
the most magnificent cataract in Scotland.
Lanark is the place where Wallace commenced his
efforts to free his country from the oppression of
England. In the vicinity, a number of localities are ¦
identified with his name and exploits. In Bonnington
House are preserved a curious chair upon which he
is said to have sat, and his portrait.
There were many other places of interest in the
neighborhood, some of which I desired to see, but had
not the time required ; or, —
" I make an open fair confession,
I scorn to lie " —
I hoped to find something of equal or greater interest
at Dalkeith, which I had promised to visit before
leaving Scotland.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE MODERN ATHENS.

JT was night when I entered Edinburgh, and 1
I was only able to see as " through a glass,
^M darkly," by the light of the street lamps. But
even under such a disadvantage, I could perceive evi
dences of what I had been told, that there are no
squalid suburbs, as iu the other cities of the United
Kingdom. For the most j)art, the abodes of poverty
are confined to the many-storied buildings in the older
portion of the city, out of sight of the stranger as he
passes through the principal thoroughfares. It is said
there is no city in the countiy in which the general
standard of excellence is so well maintained.
As it was late when I arrived, I dispensed with
supper, contenting myself with a glass of ale and a
' bannock. Thinking it possible that on the return of
Mortimer, he and Bachelor might set out at once to
meet me in Edinburgh, I gave directions, should any
one inquire for me, no matter at what hour, to give

fel

360

benedict's wanderings.

me immediate notice. This done, I went to bed, and
was soon where a tired man most delights to be, snug
in the arms of Morpheus.
I left my bed at an early hour the next morning,
and after a hearty breakfast to make up for the loss
of my supper, sauntered forth on a tour of observa
tion. Without any particular place in view, I entered
the street ; where the first object that attracted my
attention was the
magnificent monu
ment to Sir Walter
Scott. The height
is two hundred and
ten feet, and a stair
of tvvo hundred and
eighty- seven" steps,
conducts to a gal
lery at the top.
There are between
fifty and sixty
niches, many of
which are now oc
cupied by sculptu
ral impersonations of the author's principal characters.
The marble statue of Scott, by SteeU, is conspicu
ously placed in the monument.
After carefully viewing this superb structure, I took

THE SCOTT MONUMENT.

the MODERN ATHENS. 361
a westward (iourse, attracted by the beauty of Princes
Street Gardens, and continued in that direction as far
as the Lothian Road. On the way, I passed the
Royal Institution, one of the handsomest modern
structures in the city ; the Free Church College, also
a fine edifice ; the New Club, an aristocratic associa
tion composed of noblemen and gentlemen ; and the
Mojmd, formed by the deposition of the dirt taken
from the foundations of buildings, — a convenient av
enue between the Old and New Town.
In my stroll I also passed the Castle, but as I had
promised Bachelor that we would visit it together,
under the guidance of Mortimer, I turned aside to
look at the old house of Allen Ramsey, author of
" The Gentle Shepherd," and then resumed my walk
in Frinces street, at the end of which are two
churches, St. John's Chapel, a beautiful Gothic struc
ture, and St. Cuthbert's, a huge, unsightly pile, with
out regard to any style of architecture.
Thence I proceeded to Moray Place, the most
elegant and fashionable portion of the New Town,
celebrated for its architectural magnificence ; but
though it must be confessed that the buildings are
very costly, the uniformity of the style — the severe
simplicity and massiveness — impart to them a monot
onous if not a gloomy appearance.
After a glance at the Queen Street Gardens, another

362 benedict's wanderings.
of those pleasure grounds which add so much to the
beauty of the city, I passed through Castle street, in
which I saw the town residence of Sir Walter Scott,
an ordinary house, and entered George street to behold
the statues of Pitt, George IV., and Lord Melville.
The first two of these, respectively at the intersection
of Frederick and Hanover streets with George, are
bronzes by Chantrey. The last, which is one hundred
and fifty feet high, including the statue by which it
is surmounted, graces the center of St. Andrew's
Square ; on one corner of which stands the residence
of David Hume, the historian, and on the opposite
corner the house in which Lord Brougham was born.
As by this time the train from Glasgow had ar
rived, I hurried back to the Royal, in the hope of
finding my friends ; but was disappointed— doubly
disappointed, indeed, for not only had they not come,
but they had sent me no letter or other information.
"Very well," said I, to myself, a Uttle chagrined
at their neglect, " I shall take a stroll through the
Old Town, and if they are not here when I return,
then— Dalkeith ! "

'V::::^^^

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE OLD TOWN.

IHeRHAPS I ought to have visited the Old
Town first, but I had no one to guide me.
Mr. Blaikie, whom I had raet on the Clyde,
was not in the city, and I had no other acquaintance.
Left to myself, I tumed my face toward the east, and
by dint of inquiry, found my way to the most noted
places in the older portion of the city.
Passing through Princes street I carae to the
Register House, a handsome edifice, forming a square
of two hundred feet, and containing one hundred
apartments for the transaction of business. In front
of the building stands the equestrian statue of the
Duke of WelliogtoB, by SteeU — said to be, Uke his
statue of Scott, a most faithful likeness.
Continuing eastward, I ascended Calton HiU, upon
which are situated the old and new Observatories,
and monuments to Dugald Stewart, Professor Play-
fair, and Nelson, the last a pillar of ponderous pro
portions. Near by are the twelve columns of the

the old town. 365
National Monument, a structure intended to be after
the model of the Parthenon, for the commemoration of
the heroes of Waterloo ; but for want of funds, it
remains unfinished. It reminded me of the monu
ment to Washington in the Federal City — in its
present condition, a disgrace to the country.
From the top of Calton Hill, in tbe churchyard
across the street, I noticed the circular tower erected
as a monument to Hume ; and on the southern slope
of the hill, a monuraent to Burns.
Descending by a foot-path to the North Back of
the Cannongate, I found rayself at Holyrood Palace,
an ancient residence of Scottish Royalty. It is a
bandsome quadrangular building, with a central court
ninety feet square. The front is flanked with double
castellated towers, which give it a military appear
ance. The most interesting relics are the bed
chamber of Queen Mary, in the condition she left it;
the cabinet where Rizzio, her secretary and favorite,
was surpriseil and murdered ; and the stains of his
blood on the floor, jilainly visible after the lapse of
two and a half centuries.
Of the Abbey of Holyrood House, founded in 1128,
by David I., to commemorate his miraculous deliver
ance from the perilous attack of a stag, nothing
remains but the mouldering ruins of the chapel. In
this chapel, Charles I. was crowned in 1633 ; and in

366

benedict's wanderings.

the south-east corner, are deposited the remains of
David II., James II. , James V. and Magdalen his
Queen, Henry Lord Darnley, and others of distinc
tion. The precincts of the Abbey, including Arthur's

HOUSE OF ,IOHN KNOX.
Seat-from the summit of which' I obtained some
beautiful prospects of the city-and the Salisbury
Crags, are a sanctuary for insolvent debtors.
Betuming, I passed up the Canongate, by Queens-
bury House, in which Lady Catherine Hyde, Duchess
of Queensbury, patronized Gay the poet ; and by
Moray House, the ancient Aaneioh of tbe Earl of

THE OLD TOWN. 367
Moray, in which Cromwell resided during his visit to
Edinburgh — to the head of the Netherbow, where
stands the house of John Knox, carefully preserved as
in tbe time of the Reformation.
In tbe vicinity of this antiquated residence, partic
ularly in High street and the lanes leading from it,
are many houses of immense height, some of them
containing no less than eleven or twelve stories. Some
of these lanes do not exceed six feet in width, and tbe
bouses in tbem are the squalid abodes of the lowest
of tbe population.
Farther up High street is Parliamentary Square —
formed by tbe Parliamentary House, the Police Office,
tbe Chambers of the Courts of Exchequer, tbe Ad
vocates' and Signet Libraries, and St. Giles Uatbedral.
— in the centre of whicli is an equestrian statue of
Charles II. , considered one of the best specimens of
metal statuary in Edinburgh.
Tbe origin of tbe cathedral is unknown ; but it is of
very great antiquity, since it is mentioned in a Charter
of David IL, in 1359. Gavin Douglas, the Scottish
poet, who translated VirgU, was at one time its provost.
Within its walls James VL, before taking possession
of the throne of England, delivered a farewell address
to his Scottish subjects. Near the center of the south
side the Marquis of Montrose and tbe Regent Murray
are buried. On tbe outside of tbe nortbern wall is

368 benedict's wanderings.
the monument to Napier of Merchiston, tbe inventor
of logarithms. And in tbe cemetery the remains of
John Knox were deposited.
In the hall where the Scottish Parliament met
before tbe Union — one hundred and twenty-two feet
long and forty-nine broad — are tvvo statues, one of
Henry Dundas, the first Lord Melville, and tbe other
of tbe eminent lawyer, Lord President Blair.
Tbe Advocates' Library contains 150,000 volumes
and 1,700 manuscripts, and the Signet Library 50,000
volumes. Next the libraries is the County Hall, which con
tains a statue of Lord Chief Baron Dundas, by
Chantrey. Opposite St. Giles is the Royal Exchange,
containing tbe Council Charaber for the meetings of
tbe Magistracy, and other places for the transaction of
business. Farther on is a fine Gothic structure, called
Victoria HaU, erected as a place of meeting for the
General Assembly, of tbe Church of Scotland.
Thence I crossed George the Fourth' s Bridge, and
visited tbe Greyfriars' Church-yard, in ancient times
belonging to the monastery of Greyfriars, which was
situated in the Grassmarket. In this burying ground
were interred George Buchanan, the Latin poet, Allan
Ramsey, the Scottish poet. Principal Robertson, the
historian. Dr. Black, the distinguished chemist. Dr.

the old town. 369
M'Crie, tbe biographer of Knox, and other men of
eminence. In this neighborhood, are the City Poor's Hospital,
George Watson's Hospital, and Herriot's Hospital ;
the last orie of the ornaraents of the city, built in the
Elizabethan style, from a design by Inigo Jones.
Passing through George's Square, at the close of
the last century the principal place of residence of
the higher ranks of the city, — among others the Coun
tess of Glasgow, the Countess of Sutherland, the
Duchess of Gordon, Hon. Henry Erskine, and Walter
Scott, Esq., father of the novelist, — I proceeded by
way of the Royal CoUege of Surgeons, au edifice dis
tinguished for its classic elegance, to the University.
Properly, this institution had its origin in a royal
charter granted by James VL, in 1582. By the lib
erality of tbe King, and private benefactions, it rap
idly advanced in importance, and in the eighteenth
century attained a celebrity unsurpassed by any
similar institution in Europe. The present edifice is
of a quadrangular form, having two sides of three
hundred and fifty-eight feet, and two of two hundred
and fifty-five feet, with a spacious court in the centre.
The eastern front is adorned with a portico, supported
by Doric columns, each a single stone twenty-six feet
in height. The library room, by far tbe finest in
Scotland, is graced by the statue of Burns by Flax;-

370 benedict's wanderings.
man. The number of students range from a thousand
to twelve hundred.
I bad a desire to visit tbe library, but it being the
bour when another train was due from Glasgow, I
denied myself tbe pleasure, and hastened again to tbe
hotel, that I might be there to welcome my friends.
But though I looked anxiously as each passenger ar
rived, neither Bachelor nor Mortimer put in -an ap
pearance. I waited nearly an hour, to afford tbem
tbe amplest time necessary ; and then, thoroughly
vexed, I scribbled a hasty note to Bachelor, informing
bim that I had gone to Dalkeith.

CHAPTER XXIV".

AT DALKEITH.

m ifflT was not yet dark when I arrived at the town
S™ of Dalkeith, the residence of Alexander Fra-
W- zer, and the temporary abode of his sister,
Mrs. Maxwell. In the vicinity of Dalkeith there
are many places of celebrity, worthy of an excur
sion from the capital ; some of which, it will be
remembered, Mrs. Maxwell held out to us as an
inducement to visit her brother. But if I were to
assert that it was these objects I went to see, I fear
no one would believe rae, though I have gone
many miles out of my way to visit places of far
less interest. Perhaps it is better that I should not
attempt to disguise the fact, that it was the " win
some widow " attracted me in that particular direction.
Had it not been for her, I should have gone to Mel
rose instead, to visit Abbottsford, the seat of Sir
Walter Scott, and to behold by moonlight the finest

3*?^ benedict's WANDERllfGS.
specimen of Gothic style and sculpture ever erected
in the country, the ruins of the Abbey :
" If thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright.
Go visit it by the pale moonlight ;
For thc gay beams of lightsome day
Gild, but to flout, the ruins gray."
At the same time, I wish to be rightly understood
in this deUcate matter. The steamer in which we
were to sail for Italy, would leave Glasgow in a very
short time — two or three days at most — and Jhis was
tbe only way in which I could further what I con
ceived to be the highest interests of my friend Bach
elor. It was my hope that, on his arrival in Edin
burgh, he would follow me to Dalkeith, and become
convinced of the absurdity of the views he entertained
on the subject of monogomy. My observation leads
me to believe there is no argument so powerful where
this subject is under discussion, as the soft light of
bright eyes and the gentle rippling of ruby lips.
I was saved the trouble of inquiring the way to the
residence of Mr. Frazer, that gentleraan being at the
station when the train arrived. He was very cordial
in his welcome, and expressed the hope that I had
come to spend at least a sennight.
The residence of Mr. Frazer was an old fashioned
house, with a wide hall in the center, and spacious
apartlnents on each hand, one of which was the parlor.

AT DALKEITH. 373
In this room, when I entered, were two women, the
" winsome widow " and Mrs. Frazer, the latter also
young, and handsome of a certain style by some much
admired. Never before had the widow appeared to such ad
vantage in my eyes. On board the ship she had
dressed becomingly of course, but in a subdued,
sorrowful style. But now she was " arrayed in purple
and fine linen," and looked as though she "fared
sumptuously every day." She was enchantingly
beautiful. Of course she inquired after my " friend Bachelor,"
but only in a complimentary way ; in his welfare,
evidently, she. was not in the least interested. I
endeavored to raake him the subject of conversation,
but failed to elicit any favorable responses. She did
not even so much as inquire why he had not borne me
company. The next morning being pleasant, Mr. Frazer took
me to see some of the noted places in the neighbor
hood, Mrs. Frazer and Mrs. Maxwell bearing us com
pany. The conveyance, though not overstylish, was
comfortable, there being two seats, the one in front
occupied by Mr. Frazer and wife, and the other by
the widow and myself. The horses were fresh and
fast, and " did fly upon the wings of the wind." In
tbe main, the roads were good ; but here and there

374 benedict's wanderings.
was a rut, into which Mr. Frazer drove with the same
headlong speed, displacing both ladies at tiraes, but
more frequently the widow, who, being slight, was
thrown into my arms so often, that I really felt for
her. Our drive extended from Dalkeith Palace, the seat
of the Duke of Buccleuch, a large, inelegant building,
between the North and South Esk, near their conflu-
ance, to New Hall, once the residence of Dr. Penny-
cuik, the antiquary and poet, the vale of which is
supposed to be the scene of Allan Ramsay's pastoral
drama, "The Gentle Shepherd." This house con
tains, beside an extensive collection of excellent paint
ings, a number of Roman antiquities, found in Britain,
and the coat worn by Dundee at the battle of Killie-
crankie. Passing Melville Castle, buUt by Harry Dundas,
first Viscount MelviUe, we came to Hawthornden, the
home of Drummond. Here Ben Johnson, who
traveled from London on foot, to visit his fellow poet
-resided with him for several weeks. It is one of the
most picturesque places I saw while in Scotland.
Next we visited Roslin Chapel, and the ruins of
Roslin Castle. The latter stands on a peninsular
rock, overhanging the glen of the Esk, and separated
from the adjacent ground by a deep cut in the solid
rock, across which is a high bridge. This castle, long

AT DALKEITH. 375
the abode of the St. Clairs, Earls of Caithness and
Orkney, was burned by the Earl of Hertford, in 1544.
Roslin Chapel, founded in 1446, by William St.
Clair, Lord of Roslin, to use another's description,
" contains the solidity of the Norman with the minut
est decorations of tbe latest species of the Tudor age."
One of its chief ornaments is the "Prentice's Pillar,"
an exquisite piece of workmanship. " It is said that
the master builder of the chapel, being unable to
execute tbe design of this pillar from the plans in his
possession, proceeded to Rome, that he might see a
coluran of a similar description which bad been exe
cuted in that city. During his absence his apprentice
proceeded with the execution ofthe design, and, upon
the master's return he found this finely ornamented
column completed. Stung with envy at this proof of
the superior skill of his apprentice, he struck him a
blow with his mallet, and killed him on the
spot." Returning, we passed Dalhousie Castle, a structure
of great antiquity, but soraewhat modernized, situated
in the midst of roraantic and beautiful scenery ; and
Newbattle Abbey, a raansion that stands on the
spot formerly occupied by the Abbey of Newbattle,
founded by David I. for a community of Cistetian
monks. We arrived back at Dalkeith in time for dinner,

376 benedict's wanderings.
not an incident having occurred to mar the pleasures
ofthe day, ifl except the occasional displacement of
the widow in my arms ; and even that I should have
regarded as a pleasure — out of mere politeness, of
course — if it had not occasioned her so much embar
rassment. Hoping to find Bachelor at Dalkeith, I was dis
appointed. I had written to hira to come, but he bad
paid no heed to my request. Indeed, it was three
days before I heard frora hira, and then I received a
package of letters.
In the meantime, I had done little except enjoy the
sweet society of the widow — a vivacious, intelligent,
cultivated woraan. But I scrupulously, conscienti
ously, religiously avoided anything like tenderness.
I opened first a note frora Bachelor, anxious to as
certain why he had not corae to Dalkeith. It in
formed me that Mortimer had been attacked with
rheumatism and detained two days at Inverary, and
that now there was not tirae, as the Sidonia, in which
we were to have passage, would sail on the day after
the morrow. •
Having read this letter, I handed it open to tbe
widow, who glanced at the contents, blushed and
then tumed pale, and finally settled into a reverie.
" I wish you could bear us company ?" I reraarked
presently. " It would afford us the highest pleasure."

A* DALltEITft. 377
'1 was still in hopes of bringmg her and Bachelor
together. " My brother has often wished to visit Italy," she
said, "and this would be a favorable opportunity ;
but I fear he can not arrange his business on so short
a notice." " Have him try." I said no more, for I saw that
the matter was settled — they would go, Mr. Frazer
was a dealer in the grain market, and his business
would not suffer from a short interruption. Of course
Mrs. Maxwell would defray all expenses.
The next letter was from my wife. It would have
been the first, had I supposed one possible from her
at Dalkeith. In the joy ofthe moraent, I handed it also
to the widow, who perused it carefuUy, growing grad
ually paler as she proceeded, until at the foot of the
third page she fell from the chair she occupied to
the floor in a fit of syncope. Mrs. Frazer, who was
in the room, called for assistance, and ran herself for
a glass of water and a smelling-bottle, while I lifted
the sufferer to a sofa.
Withdrawing from the apartment, I resumed the
perusal of my letters, several of which were frora
friends at home. Another was from Harry Musgrave,
who, if be did not accompany me on the passage to
Italy, as be hoped, would meet me at Naples, or leave
a letter for me there at the office of the American

878 Benedict's wandijrings.
Consul. Another still was from Tom Tackle, who
informed me that he was in the Glasgow prison,
charged with assault and battery on a respectable
merchant, who had been beaten badly in the Broomie
law, in mistake' for the first officer of the Columbia.
Mrs. Maxwell was not at the lunch table ; the first
time during my brief stay at Dalkeith. But she
made her appearance when I was about to take my
departure ; still enchantingly beautiful, but pale and
sad, and evidently disappointed.
" If you are ever again in Scotland," said she, with
charming sincerity, " come and see us ; and if I re
turn to live in Brooklyn, I shall be glad to see you
there. But we must part for the present, as ray
brother can not possibly leave his business. Besides,
I should not like to meet your friend again. I might
excuse him for passing himself as a married man, but
never for having deceived me into the belief that you
were unmarried."

i^i^^

CHAPTER XXV.
FAREWELL TO SCOTIA.
|HERE was a note for rae at the Royal, from
Ip Bachelor, who, uncertain of the time of my
!^^lllj( arrival, had gone with Mortimer to Leith, in
tending to return by railway. As Leith was the port
of the capital, the oldest and for many years the only
port in Scotland, I thought it worthy of a visit. In
its early history it had been the scene of many mili
tary operations, and had been repeatedly burned, and
its shipping carried off or destroyed. Yet it contains
few antiquities of interest, the most noticeable being
the churches. North and South, founded near the
close of the fifteenth century.
At Leith I found Mortiraer, who had some business
there ; Bachelor had gone on to Newhaven. As there
was time sufficient, we continued on to the latter
place, a small fishing village about a mile farther up
the Frith of Forth. Tbe inhabitants of this village
are a hardy race, who rarely intermarry with any other
class. Nearly all tbe males are fishermen, and nearly

380

benedict's wanderings.

all the women venders of fish in the ' markets and
streets of Edinburgh.
On the way, Mortimer related to me his adventures
after our sepa
ration at Bal
lachuUsh. His
attackofrheu-raatisra was
slight, and his
' delay but the
fraction of two
days, in all,
FisHWR'ES OF NEWHAVEN. about twcnty
hours. He had joined Bachelor the day I left, and
they had been two full days in Edinburgh.
At first I was disposed to be a Uttle vexed, as they
might have joined me at Dalkeith, a thing I particu
larly desired. Mortimer assured rae that Bachelor
was inflexible in his opposition, giving as a reason
that he was a monogamist, and that there was a
pretty widow at Dalkeith, in whose society he was
afraid to trust either hiraself or his principles.
"0," thought I, "what fools there are in that
family of Bachelors ! "
At Trinity, the Newhaven railway station, we found
Bachelor waiting patiently for the train from Granton
Pier. He was surprised to see Mortimer there, and

J'ARBWELL to SCOTIA. 381
still more to see me, whom he thought at Dalkeith.
Though inclined to upbraid him for his selfish dis
respect to the widow, I thought it better to avail
myself of his confession to Mortimer, and merely ex
pressed regret that he had not been there to share
my enjoyment.
It requires the time of but a few minutes to pass
from Newhaven to Princes Street Station. Thence
we proceeded direct to the Castle, at the head of
High street. It is situated on an elevated basaltic
rock, at the extremity of the central ridge upon whicb
the Old Town is built, three himdred and eighty-
three feet above the level of the sea, and is separated
from the city by an esplanade three hundred and
fifty feet long by three hundred feet wide, defended
on the north and south by a parapet. It consists of
a series of irregular fortifications, before the invention
of gunpowder deemed impregnable. Writers differ as
to the origin of the fortress, and the name it bears.
" I incline to the opinion," said Mortiraer, " that it
was a fortification of the Picts, as early at least as
tbe fifth century."
In the earlier periods of Scottish history, this fort
ress experienced many vicissitudes, and at different
times was in the possession of various powers. Its
fortifications were demolished by Bruce, rebuilt by
Edward IIL, and since from time to time altered and

FAllEWELt TO SCOtlA. 383
strengthened to render it capable of resisting the
improvements in civiUzed warfare. At the present
time it contains accommodations for two thousand
soldiers, and its armory affords space for thirty thou
sand stand of arms.
On tbe north side of the esplanade is a bronze

SCOTTISH INSIGNIA OF RO-TALTY.
statue to the memory of the Duke of York, sem of
George IIL, and uncle to Queen Victoria. After
crossing the moat and lower guardroom, we came to
tbe prison in which the Earl and Marquis of Argyle
were kept previous to execution, and in which many
ofthe followers of Prince Charles Steward were after
wards confined.
A long steep stair leads to the Crown Room, in
which are contained the ancient Regalia of Scotland.
consisting of a crown, sceptre, sword of state, and
several other articles of bijoutry.
Qiieen Mary's Room is approached by a passage

384 BENEPICt's WANbERlNGS.
just beyond the Crown Room. It is irregular in
form, and of very sraall diraensions, measuring not
more than eight feet square, with a recess of about
three feet at the window. In this room is an oak arm
chair which was there when James was born, and a
piece of a thorn tree planted by Mary during her con
finement at Lochleven.
The objects next in interest are the vaulted dun
geons, hewn out of the solid rock, in which ihe French
prisoners were confined; the great gun, Mons Meg —
length thirteen feet, circumference seven feet six
inches, calibre twenty inches — a relic of the thirteenth
or fourteenth century, but the origin of which is not
satisfactorily settled; and St. Margaret's Chapel, be
lieved to be eight hundred years old, but unquestion
ably the oldest building in the city. This was the
private chapel of Margaret, Queen of Malcolm III,
(daughter of Edward the Outlaw, and grand-daughter
of Edmund Ironside), sometimes characterized as the
patroness of Scotland.
In the armory are preserved many weapons of war
fare and articles of armor of the olden time — head
pieces, breast-plates, shields, Lochaber axes, a com
plete coat of mail worn by one of the Douglasses in
the time of Cromwell, and a dagger carried by the
celebrated Rob Roy.
Our time was so short that, had it not been for the

FAREWELL TO SCOTIA. 385
presence of Mortiraer, who was familiar with the
Castle and nearly every object within its walls, we
should have derived but little pleasure from our visit.
As it was, we were obliged to pass by sorae things
worthy of notice and mention.
On my return to Glasgow, I went directly to the
prison, to see Tom Tackle, who had appealed to rae
as his only friend. He was confined in a damp cell,
and seeraed to be in a very wretched condition. But
the charge against hira was not as serious as I antici
pated ; he was accused of being an accomplice, and
the evidence was only circumstantial. With the
' help of the American Consul, the accuser was induced
to withdraw the charge, but on condition that Tom
would leave Glasgow in the first vessel for America.
Hoping something from the discovery of the fact
that Bachelor was afraid to trust himself with the
" winsome widow," I wrote a letter to Mr. Frazer on
my return to the hotel, urging him to accompany us
on our voyage ; or, if there was not tirae enough for
hira to reach the vessel at Glasgow or Greenock, to
join us at his convenience in Italy.
In the evening I called upon Mrs. Small and daugh
ter, to thank them again for their kindness, and bid
them good-bye. Bach-elor sent his regards and re
grets, but spent the evening with Mortimer and
Plunkett, who had returned, at the Queen's. I was

386 ' benedict's wanderings.
expected to complete their party, but finding the so
ciety of tbe ladies agreeable, it was late before I
arrived. StiU, I was in time for the last bottle, on
opening which I proposed —
"Farewell, old Coila's hills and dales ! "
Her heathy moors and winding vales."
The next morning Mortiraer and Plunkett, who
were well acquainted with Captain McCoy, accompa
nied us as far as Greenock, where we met Dinnie on
his return from Campbeltown. Of the little time we
spent there together, I can only say that it was lively
beyond description. A toast to " the ladies," pro
posed by Bachelor, was followed by others, to " tbe ,
captain's wife and daughter," "the ship's beauty,"
" the winsome widow," " the orthodox old lady of
Belfast," and " the blind lady who introduced tbe
conundrums," and a parting glass, suggested by
Mortimer, to
"Italia ! Oh Italia ! thou who hast
The fatal gift of beauty."

PART IV.

^(^^T

CHAPTER I.
WIND AND WATER.
Altogether, our voyage to Italy was not a
pleasant one. We had a few fine days, but
1^^ we bad more that were disagreeable and
dangerous. In the afternoon of the third day, we
encountered a gale with rain and a heavy sea. This
weather continued for nearly four days, with increas
ing violence. The second day a heavy sea broke on
board, fore and aft, and the passengers were confined
to the cabins. The next morning there was a succes
sion of squalls, and to use the language of the seamen,
we shipped a great deal of water, so that it became
necessai-y to shift the cargo. Now the passengers
were somewhat alarmed, and not without good reason
as it seemed to me, though the captain assured us
there was no occasion for any serious apprehension.
This day we made but sixty miles. Toward night
the gale began to raoderate, and by tbe afternoon of
tbe next day, bad in a great measure subsided.
Tbe foUowing morning, bow happy were all on

390 benedict's wanderings.
board! There was a slight breeze, just enough to
clear away the clouds. The sun was as bright and
beautiful as on a day in mid-summer. The waves
had so far spent their strength, that most of the
passengers began to recover their stomachs. Confi
dence and cheerfulness were restored, and before
evening "All went merry as a marriage bell."
After this, for a week, we had delightful weather —
sunshine by day, and raoonlight by night. The
evenings were particularly pleasant, and a portion of
them — indeed, the greater portion — were spent upon
the deck, sometimes until midnight. There were
quite a good many passengers, raostly Italians and
Spaniards. Such of them as had friends, spent the
time in conversation ; and such as had none, seemed
to enjoy theraselves in solitude. The conversation
being in the Italian and Spanish languages, with
which Bachelor and I were then wholly unacquainted,
we could not even play the ])art of intelligent listen
ers. Twice or thrice for an hour the count carae on
deck after sundown, but his wife, who was again the
victim of nausea, was seldom seen during the voyage.
Among the passengers there was not one who could
speak English intelligibly, if I except the Count and
Countess di LavareUo, who, as I have already said,
spoke it with difficulty. There was a young ItaUan

wind and water. 391
woman, who understood and spoke a few expressions
in comraon usCj as the ordinary salutations — good
morning, good evening, and the like; but was unable
to hold a conversation. These facts came to our
knowledge quite by accident.
I think it was on tbe third day of the gale. A
squall tumed the vessel upon her beam ends, and so
suddenly that nearly everything was violently dis
placed, and some of the passengers thrown from their
feet, their seats, and even their berths. At the
moment, the Italian woman, whose name was Lauretta
Leonaldi, was crossing the cabin to reach her state
room. Tbe lurch of the vessel hurled her from her
feet, and had it not been for Bachelor, who was near
her at the moraent, she must have been dashed against
the opposite side of the cabin, and severely injured.
With one arm around a post to keep himself from
falling, he caught her in the other, and held her safely
until the vessel had righted itself. It may be that he
held her a trifle more closely than was absolutely
necessary ; but in the excitement incident to a storm,
what man, particularly a young man, can be expected
to guage the character of his assistance as he might
under other circumstances? I presurae the lady took
this view of the case, for she thanked hira in tones as
musical as the notes of a harp. She spoke in Italian,
but perceiving that she was not understood, re-

392 benedict's wanderings.
peated what she had said, as well as she could, in
English. It was bad English — indeed, it was very bad, judged
bythe rules of pronunciation and grammar — ^but it was
good enough for Bachelor, who had not been in love,
so far as I know, since the wedding of Miss Mary
MacGill. But the dulcet tones of the liquid voice,
the soft smile of the rosy lips, the fiery glance of the
flashing eye — in a word, he fell head and ears in love
before I could count ten on my fingers.
The next morning, immediately after breakfast, he
commenced the study of the Italian language, but
under tbe pretence of teaching the count English ;
and in the evening, he employed all the words and
phrases he had obtained of his pretended pupil, in an
endeavor to converse with the Italian woman. This
happened not only on that evening, but on every
succeeding one until we reached the Gulf of Lyons.
Deprived of the society of Bachelor, and unable to
converse -with any otber of the passengers, except now
and then a little vvith the count, I procured a book
of easy lessons in the sarae language, from the first
officer of the vessel, and during the day endeavored to
acquire a little knowledge of the rudiments. The
evenings I spent (jhiefiy in the society of tbe officer
mentionea, who was a very agreeable and entertaining
companion.

Wind and Water. 393
One night, after most of the passengers had left tbe
deck, observing that he was sad and absent, I was
about to follow their example, when he begged me to
remain, as my presence, it being the anniversary of
his wedding day, would preserve bira from a fit of
melancholy. He had related to me many incidents of
his Ufe, which were full of romance, and this reference
to bis marriage led to the history of that event.
"At one time," said he, "while captain of a
British East Indiaman, I had among my passengers
the celebrated Lady Franklin, and a young lady, the
daughter of a British officer. The latter, under the
protection of the former, was on her way to Cape
Town, to join her brother, then in the employ of tbe
East India Company, both her parents being dead.
When a young man her father bad been affianced
to tbe daughter of a wealthy gentleman residing on
tbe Isle of Man. The wedding day had been an
nounced, but in consequence of the sudden death of
ber father, was postponed. Soon after, her relations,
anxious to get possession of her property, by some
unfair means procured her admission into a nunnery,
wbere she was kept under close surveillance; and
then gave out that she had voluntarily renounced the
world, and retired to a convent. Disbelieving the
statement, the officer made many fruitless efforts to
discover her place of concealment. At length, giving

394 benedict's wanderings.
up in despair, he applied for active duty abroad, and
though he preferred India, accepted Gibraltar, which,
for a time, afforded sufficient novelty. When be
grew tired of his companions and tbeir amusements,
and of the city and its curiosities, he made excursions
into tbe country, and employed his time in taking
crayon sketches.
"On one of these occasions, he paused in front of
a nunnery, to make a sketch of the building, when
bis attention was attracted by a young woman at one
of the upper windows. She was -visible for only a
moment, but long enough to be recognized as his own
beloved. That night, with another officer as brave as
himself, he scaled the walls of the nunnery, and carried
her off by force, and at a later hour the same night,
married her in Gibraltar.
" The companion of Lady Franklin was the daugh
ter of this devoted couple. To shorten the rest of my
story, suffice it to say that I fell in love with her, and
my love being reciprocated, our betrothal was approved
by Lady Franklin. In time, we were married, and
her wealth enabled me to quit the sea. For a while
\fe lived in ease and affluence, then fell suddenly into
embarrassment. But I must not forget my wife's
injunction —
" 'Tread lightly on the ashes of the dead.'
"Her brother, in coming into possession of his

WIND AND WATER. 395
property, fell into profligate habits, and having
' wasted his substance in riotous living,' had resource
to bis sister, who helped bim with large sums of
money, and finally, to save him frora prison, mort
gaged her estate. Of these facts I bad no knowledge
until the first payment fell due, with no money to
meet it. In the meantime, he had died in America.
" There was no alternative, so I returned to the sea.
My next voyage will be as niaster of a vessel. In
three or four years I hope to clear the estate.
" In fifteen years this is the first time I have been
absent from ray wife and children on the anniversary
of my wedding day."
Toward the close of the story he cut it short in
several places, and finally brought it to an abrupt
termination. Attentive to the narrative, I had not
observed, as he had, a sudden change in the weather.
For an hour or more the moon had been playing hide-
and-seek among the clouds; now it had entirely dis
appeared, and the sky was covered with a dense black
cloud, from zenith to horizon.
I knew by the preparations that were immediately
made, that a storm was anticipated. But, -with all
I had experienced, I had little conception of a storm
at sea. In a few minutes — a very few it seemed to
me — we were struck by a gale with such force that
tbe vessel was nearly capsized. Many of the passen-

396 benedict's wanderings.
gers, in a sound sleep, were thrown from their berths,
and nearly everything on board was turned topsy-turvy.
Meanwhile, tbe waves began to break over the
vessel. The first one lifted me from my feet, and left
me sprawling on the deck. I recovered myself as
quickly as possible, but before I could lay hold on
anything, a second carried me toward the stern of tbe
ship with irresistible force. Conscious of my con
dition, I clutched for the rigging, but nothing came
within my reach. The ship and wave were moving
in opposite directions, and I was riding on tbe top of
the wave. Suddenly I was seized by the skirts of the
coat, just as I was plunging headlong into the Gulf of
Lyons. A moment more, and Mrs. Benedict would
have been a widow.
Going below, comparatively a place of safety, I
found the passengers in great consternation, and cer
tainly not without reason, for the sea was heavy and
we were shipping large quantities of water. By
moming it became necessary to shift the cargo again,
but even that did not save it from damage. Nearly
all the baggage of the passengers, my own included,
was ruined. This, however, was a secondary con
sideration, and not thought of until all danger was
over. The storm lasted for nearly two days, and did
our vessel such damage that we were obliged to seek
safety^in tbe harbor of Leghorn.

CHAPTER II.

DURING THE DELAY.

It was about half-past eight o'clock in the
morning when we anchored in the outer mole
M of Leghorn. As the vessel would be there for
several hours — ^in point of fact, it was detained fo'
nearly thirty- three, or until five o'clock the next day
— a boat was lowered to convey such passengers
ashore as desired to visit the city. Of course I was
one, and I supposed Bachelor would be another ; but
he excused himself on the ground of indisposition. It
is true, be had been very sick during the last storm ;
but so bad I, and of tbe two, I was suffering more
from its effects. Yet I was resolved to go, as I might
not have another opportunity. But he was inflexible
in his decision; to keep nothing back — he bas no wife
to grow jealous at his gallantries — he preferred the
society of tbe handsome Italian woman, whom he had
not seen until a few moments before the boat was
lowered, since the evening preceding the storm.
To my surprise, however, among the first to enter

398 benedict's wanderings.
the boat was Count di LavareUo. He was going on
shore to notify his brother at Genoa, by telegraph,
of .his arrival at Leghorn. He expressed gratification
at having my society, and I was truly delighted with
his, as he knew every noteworthy object in the city,
and what was equally to the purpose, proposed to
accompany me in ray ramble.
In one respect, Leghorn is ancient ; in another,
modern: it is an old port, but a new city. At one
time it was a Roraan port, but I do not know of,
what importance. When it ceased to be that, it
dwindled down into a mere fishing village. About
the middle of the sixteenth century, Cosimo I., dis
covering its great capabilities for commerce, exchanged
for it the episcojial city of Sarzana. Once in posses
sion of the village, he raade it a free port, the first
established in the Mediterranean; and by cutting
canals through the marshy soil, and encouraging cul-
tivd,tion, he in a measure destroyed the noxious
vapors of the locality, so that in a little while it
became, and has ever since continued to be, a place of
commercial consequence.
Though a walled city, and otherwise fortified, Leg
horn is not regarded, by persons skUled in the art of
war, as a place of great security — certainly not of
invincibiUty. Within a few years past it has been
greatly enlarged by leveling the old fortifications.

DURING THE DELAT. 399
It is now nearly in the form of a square, surrounded
by modern walls, with five gates, and is over two
miles in circumference. It is neat, clean and well-
built, and the streets are spacious, regular and well-
paved. The number of inhabitants exceed eighty
thousand. Though once a Roman port, it contains not a
vestige of antiquity; the oldest fabric is a castle built
by Ferdinando I. All the public and other notice
able edifices, are of modern construction, though
some of them are superior structures. Among these
are tbe lazarettos of San Rocco, San Jacopo, and San
Leopoldo, all well-managed institutions, the last, as
the count informed me, one of the most magnificent
works of the kind in Europe. Tbe principal places
of worship are the Duomo, originally a parish church,
but now a cathedral, a noble edifice designed by
Vasari ; the Church of the Madonna, in which are
fine pictures by Roselli and VoUeranno ; a synagogue,
richly ornamented with marbles, one of the finest in
Europe, and next in size to that of Amsterdam ; two
Greek churches, and a mosque. It contains, also, a
bank, a theatre, a printing house, a coral manufac
ture, a charity-school, and other institutions for the
purpose of instruction.
The chief work of art is a fine marble statue of
Ferdinando I., supported by four kneeUng slaves, in

400 benedict's wanderings.
bronze, the work of Pietro Tacca. There are a few
good specimens of sculpture in the cemeteries. In
the monastery of Monte Nero, near the city, is a cel
ebrated picture of the Virgin, which the count assured
me had been idolized by the people of the city for
five hundred years.
Among the inhabitants of Leghorn may be found
representatives of nearly every civilized nation of the
earth. In the High street, celebrated for its breadth
and straightness, and the richness of its shops, may
be heard spoken nearly every language. At the Hotel
de Nord, the principal place of public entertainment,
where the count and I dined that day, EngUsh,
French and German are spoken as readily and flu
ently as Italian. In one of the burying grounds,
called the Campo Inglese, are buried several distin
guished Englishmen, the most noted being Thomas
SmoUet, the novelist and historian.
It was nearly three o'clock when we returned to the
ship, yet Bachelor and the Italian woman were still
together, engaged in conversation. Had they been at
it all tbe time we were gone, he in English, and she
in Italian, scarcely understanding a word each other
said, br had they been making love by signs ? A nod,
a smile, a frown, a grimraace, a wink, a kiss, a
pressure of the hand — they have the same meaning
in every language.

DURING THE DELAT. 401
Remembering their intimacy, Count di LavareUo
said, — I give his meaning in language that will be in
telligent to the reader : "I fear your friend will get
himself into difficulty,"
" No danger," I replied. "With him it is only
pass-time." " Notwithstanding," he returned, " it may be dan
gerous." " Surely a young man may converse with a young
woman, without falUng into danger ?" I enquired.
" But she is not young," he answered. " She is a
wife and a mother, and she has a husband, a man as
jealous as she is beautiful, and of the most vindictive
disposition.' '
Availing myself of thefirst opportunity, I informed
Bachelor of her true character, hoping thereby to end
his dangerous flirtation. But I only added fuel to
the flre ; though surprised, and perhaps a little dis
appointed, he 'paid no heed to my warning. That
evening, and all the next day, and the next down to
the moment our ship cast anchor in the harbor of
Genoa, he bestowed ui)on her the most constant at
tention. It seemed to rae that he was infatuated.

-5 '^s52®^i^5^**~

CHAPTER III.

LAID UP.

@ra|ft) LIFE on the ocean wave, is not the song
SV/sill J sbould sing to express my sentiments of the
ifj^^ sea. A short sail, in a smooth water, with
the land in view, and " a club of good fellows," is
well enough once in a while, and may be enjoyed to a
Umited extent if the wine is old and the jokes new.
But a voyage requiring the tirae of many days, upon
a boundless ocean, driven by the wind, drenched by
the waves, tossed to and fro like a shuttlecock, a vic
tira to nausea, though once araong my " pleasures of
hope," is not now even araong my "pleasures of
memory.' '
The truth is, I suffered immensely on the voyage
from Glasgow to Genoa, more than in crossing tbe
Atlantic. The storm in St. George's Channel de
prived me of the Uttle strength I had gained in
Ireland and Scotland, and the greater gale in the
Gulf of Lyons so prostrated me that I was wholly
unfit to leave the ship at Leghorn. But in the be-

LAID UP.

403

lief that I should not have another opportunity to
see the city, I exerted myself entirely beyond my
strength, and returned from my rambles comj^letely
exhausted. The next day I was unable to leave my
berth until we reached Genoa, where I took apart
ments in the Hotel de la A^ille.
The telegram of Count di LavareUo had been re
ceived, and his brother — -sometinies called " Pro
fessor,' ' having held that position in the Royal Uni
versity of Genoa, and in other educational institutions,
and sometimes " Doctor," as he was an exceUent phy
sician — was at the pier, on the arrival of the ship,
witli a carriage for his conveyance. The count pre
sented me to the professor,
who invited me to a seat in
his carriage, and. set me
down at the door of the
hotel, with a promise to
call and prescribe for me in
the evening.
Bachelor helped me to
the carriage, and then un-
TROFEssoR DT i,.\vAREi,Lo. dcr prctencB of looking af
ter my baggage, went back to the vessel to bestow
such courtesies as were in his ]iower upon the fair
Italian woman. Suspecting his purpose, I warned

404 benedict's WANbBRIltGS.
bim again of bis danger, by repeating the lines of
tbe poet, already quoted —
" Italia ! Oh Italia ! thou who hast
The fatal gift of beauty,"
He smiled and went his way, but I think was not un
mindful of my warning. Having taken her address,
for which he asked, and the name of the church she
attended, which she gave him voluntarily, he bade her
a very fervent farewell, and left her in the care of ber
friends. The husband of this woman was a petty officer of
the city — I forget in what capacity ; but he had bis
sycophants, as most officers have, however humble
their position. It was not long before he knew all
that had transpired on board the Sidonia, between
bis wife and Bachelor. What happened to her in
consequence, I never kneW, but in the evening, shortly
after the arrival of the Lavarellos, for the count
accompanied the doctor, an inquiry was made at tbe
door of my apartment for Bachelor.
During the forenoon ray illness had increased, and
about two o'clock I had gone*to bed, nearly distracted
vrith a neuralgic pain in my head. But " a hot drink
of something," which Bachelor proposed -with all tbe
gravity of a physician, and a couple of hours' sleep,
benefited me in some measure, and I was consider
ably better, though still in bed, when the doctor arrived.

LAID UP. 405
Tbe inquiry for Bachelor was made by a young
man attached to the hotel as an interpreter. He was
accompanied by a man in uniform, which I afterwards
learned was the official garb of a policeman. To a
second inquiry which I did not hear. Bachelor re
plied, " He is sick in bed." The answer was repeated
in Italian to the officer, who, in the same language,
inquired, " Can I see for myself ?". Bachelor turned
quickly, upon him, and with a savage scowl said,
" Do you doubt ? " The officer apologized, saying
that his instructions were positive not to return until
he had seen him. Thereupon he was allowed to enter
my apartment.
The presence of the count and professor discon
certed the officer a little, but Bachelor helped him
out by remarking, " There is the doctor ; ask him."
The officer did as directed: "IsheiU?" "Quite
so," replied the professor. " For how long ?" contin
ued the officer. " It may be a week, it may be a
month," replied the professor. "Shall I find him
here at the end of a week ?" inquired the officer.
" Not if he is able to be moved," replied the professor.
" In that case, I shall take him to my hotel in the
Piazza Ponte. You will find hira there." There
upon tbe officer bowed and retired.
The count and professor exchanged glances — that
of tbe latter expressing inquiry, that of tbe former

406 benedict's wanderings.
surprise. During the voyage tbe count and I had
spent a great deal of tirae in each other's society,
especially after Bachelor becarae enamored of the
beautiful Italian woman. The count aided me in my
study of the Italian language, and I endeavored to
improve him in his English. The day before our
arrival, he said to rae that, if I desired to acquire a
knowledge of their language, I would find his brother
a most excellent instructor. He even commended me
to the professor, who received me with the cordiality
of an old acquaintance, and offered to take me under
bis care, personal, professional, and linguistical. And
now, though not twelve hours in the city, I was an
object of special surveillance. Is it a marvel that
they exchanged glances of inquiry and surprise !
I was indignant ; not at them, of course; but at
tbe impertinent policeman, and a little at Bachelor
for allowing him to set foot in ray private apartment.
" What did he want? " I inquired. " You, I pre
sume," replied Bachelor. " He inquired for the raan
that was intriguing with the Italian woman on board
the ship." For a moment I was too angry to speak;
it was not the first, or even the second time that he
had made me the scape-goat for his sins. But whUe
considering what it was proper for me to do under the
circumstances, the count interposed.
Comprehending the ruse, he remarked, "It will

LAID UP. 407
involve your friend in trouble." " 0 no," replied
Bachelor. " At the end of a week, if I am not here,
it will go for a mistake." The count shook his head;
but whether to signify that such a subterfuge would
not suffice, or that be regarded it as a cowardly means
of escaping the inevitable consequences ofhis gallantry
toward another man' s wife, I was unable to deter
mine. Bachelor drew the latter inference, but being
in an amiable mood, replied, "If he is not satisfied, I
shall corae back, though it be from the Baltic, and —
what do you use here — swords or pistols ? " " Ah !
that depends," answered the count. "Men fight
with either; but the assassin uses the stiletto."
" Well," said Bachelor, " protect my friend, and
promise on my behalf anything that may be de
manded." " That you will not make love again to the beau
tiful Lauretta?" I interposed. " That, first of aU,"
he replied, " I never did." " You never did anything
else during the entire voyage," I returned. " On my
honor,' ' he replied, " had I known she was a wife and
mother, I should not have — yes, I should have saved
ber from falling, but nothing more." " You took ber
address after you knew she was married? " I rejoined.
" To punish her for her deception," he answered.
" Bab !" I exclaimed. " You took the name of tbe
church she attended? She dare not see you at her

408

BENEDICT S WANDERINGS.

husband's house." " She will certainly never see me
any place else. So Capitano Leonaldi — I think that is
what the officer called him — can rest easy on that
score ; but I shall come back and shoot him rather
than that he should be disappointed."

CHAPTER IV.

IMPROVEMENTS.

Inder the guidance of Professor di LavareUo,
I made fair progress, not toward -health only,
but in the use of the ItaUan tongue. The
next day after our arrival, being able to leave my
bed for an hour or so, I wrote to my friends at home
and abroad, and to the American Consul at , Naples,
requesting hira to forward my letters to the care
of Professor di LavareUo. That day Bachelor went
the round of the city, and carae back with glowing
descriptions of its reraarkable beauty. The following
morning he sailed for Naples and Palermo, pro
mising to join me as soon as I was able to travel, and
at sucb place as I should designate.
But the time was not so soon as we had hoped.
My health continued to iraprove, so my physician
assured me, but it was so slowly that I almost
despaired of recovery. That I might be more imme
diately under bis supervision, he had me removed to
apartments in his own house in the Piazza Ponte, and

410 benedict's WANDBBmoS.
placed under the care of a nurse of his own selection.
Here he bestowed upon me the greatest possible
attention and kindness, and I continued to improve —
he said rapidly, as I had barely escaped from an
attack of typhoid fever; I thought tardily, for I was
anxious to * * *" be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate ;
Still achieving, still pursuing," —
but of all things it is the most difficult for me — and
never more difficult than during my illness at Genoa
—to " Learn to labor, and to wait."
Of course, if it be necessary, I can do both; and I
can labor more easily than I (5an wait ; and I did in
this instance, for though I chafed under ray confine
ment, I pursued the study of Italian with zeal and
industry. I do not know that I learn a language
more readily than some others; I presume I do not,
though my progress was marvelous. But I doubt if
^ny one ever learned raore in the same time, unless be
had a better instructor, which I think impossible.
Professor di LavareUo had perforraed his life-labor;
he had achieved his ambition — the highest reputa
tion in his profession and in the University; and now
he lived at his ease, in the enjoyment of social and
literary pleasures. The interest he manifested in me
was wholly that of friendship, induced in tbe first

IMPROVEMENTS. 411
instance by the unexpected commendation of the
count, and afterwards by a congeniality of certain
prominent traits of character.
After the lapse of many days spent in this wise — I
was still too weak to leave my apartraents — I began
to grow restless, and I fear, a little peevish. For a
time, day by day, after growing weary of study, I had
amused myself at the window, noticing the various
persons who dwelt in the hotel, as they went and
came, and such as paid them visits of pastime or
pleasure. Not in any city I visited on the continent do fami
lies live as we do in America — in separate houses ;
but in flats, or apartments, so that many people, and
sometimes many farailies, are inmates of tbe same
edifice. Nor is this the only peculiarity ; in some of
these houses — indeed, in raost of thera — the floors
are classified. The hotel in the Piazza Ponte was of
this character. It contained eight stories — the first,
or ground floor, occupied for shops; the second, which
is the grand floor, by noblemen and others of high
social rank ; the third, by professors, bankers, brokers,
and raerchants ; the fourth by doctors, lawyers,
notaries, and other professionals ; the fifth by authors,
editors, and other men of letters ; the sixth by artists
— painters, sculptors, photographers, and the like ;
the seventh by artizans of many pursuits; and the

412 Benedict's wanderings.
uppermost by other handicraftsmen, and by women
and girls in very poor circumstances, dependent upon
their own exertions. Of course I do not mean to have
it understood that this arrangeraent is arbitrary, or
that it is not departed frora in some instances, even
in the Hotel Ponte; but merely that, upon certain
floors, certain classes of citizens " most do congregate."
For a time, as I have said, such a variety of char
acters afforded me sufficient amuseraent; that was
while I. was yet too feeble to leave my apartments.
But as I began to get stronger, it was difficult to
restrain me within the limits suited to my convales
cent condition. At length, as a means of appeasing
my desire, and making my confinement less irksome,
the professor brought me a Uttle book, a historical
romance of the seventeenth century, which be said
was written in the purest Italian. It contained less
than a hundred jiages, and was divided into four
parts, and each part into four chapters.
"I propose a compromise," said the professor.
"You will translate this little book into English-
You will work no more than four hours each day
three in the forenoon, and one in the afternoon. Wben
you have corapleted the first part — four chapters, I
shall tako jo\x to San Pallena, one of my country
seats, where you will enjoy the fresh air and become
invigorated."

IMPROVEMENTS. 413
By this proposition, to which I readily assented,
tbe professor gained his purpose — he diverted my
thoughts into a new channel. Of course I was no less
anxious to escape from my prison-house ; but mental
labor, however arduous, is not as deleterious in its
effects, even to an invalid, as ordinary fretfulness.
The labor thus commenced as a task, was afterwards
pursued as a pleasure, and eventuated in a com
plete translation of " The Castle of the Three Mys
teries."

CHAPEER V.

INDULGENCES.

kT the end of a week I had made such progress
in my translation, and, what was even more to
the purpose, in my way to restored health,
that the professor allowed me the priTalege of a drive
about tbe city, and honored me with his company.
The day was pleasant — the sun as brilliant and the
air as balmy as any I ever experienced, even in Italy.
It was at an early hour — not at what we should call
an early hour in the United States — ^but in Genoa,
except those who labor for a livelihood, the people
are accustomed to give the sun a little the start of
them in the morning, though, to make up for their
tardiness, they usually amuse themselves for hours
after he has retired behind the western horizon.
It is at about the distance of a mile from the shore
that the city appears to the best advantage. It stands
upon ground some five hundred feet above the sea, on
a declivity of the Appenines. It is in the form of a
crescent, and its numerous stately edifices rising one

INDULGENCES. 415
above another as the distance increases, resemble the
seats of a vast ampitheatre. Viewed from alraost any
direction, it is one of the raost beautiful cities in
Italy; and from the sea, with the mountains in the
background, it is scarcely surpassed by Naples.
" Genoa is a city of great antiquity? " I remarked.
" So great," replied the professor, " that there is
doubt as to its origin. It is generally believed to be
more remote than that of Rome. It has been a city
of importance for many centuries. It is mentioned by
Livy as having been destroyed by the Carthagenians,
and by Strabo as being a place of considerable trade
in timber, obtained from the mountains."
We passed through the principal streets, the Strada
Balbi, tbe Strada Nuova, and the Strada Nuovissima,
in all of which are palaces of the raost superb archi
tecture ; and through the gate leading from the city
to Turin, called the New Gate, which is simple and
majestic in its construction.
The fortifications of Genoa are extensive and for
midable. Those toward the sea are cut out of the
rocks, and have the appearance of great strength.
There are two walls, each a vast semicircle, extending
from the sea on one side to the sea on the other, one
of which iraraediately encompasses the city, while the
other takes the rising grounds that commands it and
the harbor. In addition to which there are numerous

4l6 benedict's WANDERINGS.
detached forts, redoubts, and outworks, crowning
hill after bill, back almost to the mountain.
Pointing to a fragment of tbe old Roman walls,
some traces of which are yet visible. Professor di
LavareUo remarked: "Thecity has been frequently
increased in size, and the walls very much enlarged.
Formerly the streets, a very few excepted, were not
wide enough to admit the use of carriages. Within a
few years many of them have been widened in the
newer portions, by the removal of old buildings, and,
wbere it was possible, piazzas have been raade, whereby
the city has been very greatly improved."
Elegant edifices, ecclesiastical, eleemosynary, and
palatial, are numerous, and may be found in nearly
all parts of the city. Some of the churches, and,
indeed, some of the hospitals, rival the palaces in
splendor. More than half of the churches were destroyed dur
ing the bombardment of the city by the French under
Louis XIV., near the close of the seventeenth cen
tury. Of those that remain, the largest is the
Cathedral of San Lorenzo, a Gothic structure of tbe
eleventh century, paved and incrusted with marble.
Some portions of the interior have been modernized
and ornamented with carving and gilding, paintings
and statuary. The most noticeable of the paintings
is a picture of the Crucifixion, by Baroccio ; and of

indulgences. 417
tbe statues, those of San Stephano, San Ambrogio, and
tbe four Evangelists, by Francavilla. The high altar is
decorated by a statue of the Madonna and Child, in
bronze, a work of the seventeenth century, by Bianchi.
In the Chapel of St. John the Baptist, the most
beautiful portion of this cathedral — from which
females are excluded by a law of Pope Innocent VIIL,
except on a certain day of the year, the death of the
saint having been compassed by a woraan — are the
mortal remains of "the prophet of the Highest,"
kept in an iron urn, under a canopy supported by
four columns of porphyry, with pedestals exhibiting
prophets in bass-relief, by Giacomo della Porta. The
Sacristy contains an emerald vase, found at Cassarea
in 1101, said to be the dish from which Christ ate the
Last Supper, and supposed to have been presented by
the Queen of Sheba to King Soloraon, and by hira
deposited in the Temple at Jerusalem.
Besides the cathedral, I visited ten other churches,
the largest of which was the Anunciata, a magnificent
structure, rich in decorations and frescoes, containing
two celebrated pictures, the Last Supper, by Pro-
caccino, and the Crucifixion, by Scotto. San Am
brogio, also richly decorated, contains several fine
pictures, the most celebrated being the Assumption,
by Guido, and the Circumcision, and St. Ignatius
exorcising a Demoniac, by Reubens.

418 benedict's wanderings.
The most conspicuous church in the general view
of the city is Santa Maria di Carignano, which is
finely situated on a hill. It is an elegant piece of
archite6ture, in its general plan reserabling St. Peter's.
It contains a statue of San Sebastiano, and another of
the beatified Alessandro Sauli, by Puget ; and the
following, among other excellent pictures, St. Peter
and St. John curing a Paralytic, by Piola; the Mar
tyrdom of a Saint, by Maratta; and San Francesco,
by Guercino. From the cupola of this edifice — but
on a subsequent occasion (I was not able on that day
to make the ascent) — I obtained a fine view ofthe city.
The oldest church in Genoa is that of San Ciro,
which was erected in the year 250, and until the year
985, was the cathedral. It is a spacious edifice, pecu
liarly enriched with raarbles — the high altar adorned
with sculpture, by Puget. In one of its chapels is
the Assumption, an exceUent picture by Sarzana, and
in another, the Adoration of the Shepherds, by
Pomarancio. Over the high altar of San Stefano alie Porte, one
of the smaUer churches, is a celebrated picture, which
was taken to Paris during the time of Napoleon, but
brought back and replaced in its original situation 
tbe Martyrdom of St. Stephen, the upi)er part by
Raphael, the lower part by Romano, and when at
Paris, the whole retouched by David.

indulgences.

419

Tbe otber churches I visited on that day were San
Matteo, containing statues of the Evangelists, by

ANCIENT GENOA.

MontorsoU ; Santa Maria deljiCastello, in whicb is a
picture of San Sebastiano, by Titian ; San Francesco
di Paolo, having pictures by Castello, Paggi, and

420 Benedict's wanderings.
CambiaBO ; San FUippo Neri, a handsome structure,
containing a statue of the Madonna, by Puget ; and
the Madonnetta, a very small edifice, but rich in
elegant paintings, the most noticeable of which is the
Assumption of the Virgin, attributed to Raphael.
In returning, the professor took me through some
of the older parts of the city, that I raight the better
appreciate the raodern iraproveraents. The contrast
was very raanifest, particularly in tbe streets, which
are dark, steep, narrow and crooked, and almost
wholly inaccessible to carriages.
It was in Genoa that Chiistoph&r Columbus was
born in the yeax 1442. Fifty years afterwards, through
the aid of Isabella of Spain, he discovered America.
He first applied to his native city, and on being re
fusal, to Portugal and Eugland. But though the
Genoese failed to ajipreciate hi-s genius four centuries
ago, they have since made amends by erecting a
magnificent monument to his memory.

^=^10%::;;^^^

CHAPTER VI.

FRIENDS, OLD AND NEW.

^(ij|ERY much exhausted by the drive, 1 lay down
on my return to rest, and was gradually pass
ing into a Ught sleep, when a messenger from
the professor entered my apartment with a package
of letters from" the Araerican Consul at Naples. Im-
m-ediately I arose, with the language of the Psalmist
in my thoughts, " I will not give sleep to mine eyes,
or slumber to mine eye-lids," until I have perused
every episfle: There were twenty in all, and' of nearly
every description, from the billet-doux to the official
doeuaient. Beginning with my wife's, my invariable
custorii, I went through the package without stopping
to make eitfher note or comment.
I know of no greaiter pleasure for a member of the
Benedict family, when thousands of miles intervene
between him and bis "better half," than to receive
from ber an epistle full of life and love and longing
for bis return. And when to these are added' assur
ances of the health and happiness of herself and the

422 benedict's wanderings.
"little ones," tbe cup of bis joy is as nearly fuU as
it can well be under tbe circumstances.
Several of tbe letters were from friends at home-
good and true friends, and tbeir letters were full of
good news and good wishes ; and some were on busi
ness, which I bad endeavored to put from me as far
as possible during my convalescent condition. In
deed, it was to avoid the toU and turmoU of business
— as tbe only means of regaining my health — that I
was induced to leave my family and friends for an
indefinite period. The latter I threw aside, with
scarce a glance at their contents.
These disposed of, I came to four or five letters in
tbe contents of which tbe reader will feel interested.
One was from Mrs. Maxwell, " tbe winsome widow,"
in answer to the letter I had addressed to her brother,
which she rightly judged was meant for herself. In
deed, she understood its tenor and effect as clearly as
if I bad written her that, with proper management,
she might captivate tbe Bachelor. She thanked me
for my " attentions," and praised me for my " can
dor," when I might so easily have "imposed upon
her credulity." In declining my proposition to join
us in Italy, she said her brother's business would not
permit of his absence at that season of the year.
But she made no allusion whatever to Bachelor.
The next letter was from O'Neil, that "fine ould

ERlENbS, OLO ANb NEW. 423

Irish gintleman" of Downpatrick, with whom I still
kept up an occasional correspondence. He wrote to
inform me that O'Keeffe would spend tbe winter in
the city of Catania. He thought that, if I were in
Sicily, it might afford me pleasure to meet 'the
colleen bawn," " and even," to use his own language,
" her old uncle, who, whatever his faults, and doubt
less he is not without sorae, is 'truly an expert in
astronomical observations."
I could not blame 0' Neil for wishing to keep tbe
place of concealment frora Musgrave, for O'Keeffe had
exacted of bim a promise to that effect. But I bad
much rather be had not informed me of tbe fact, for I
could scarcely resist the temptation to impart it,
especially as Musgrave had been baffled in bis efforts
to make the discovery.
I learned this fact from his letter — the next
perused. It was written from Naples. In the Museo
Internazional, he had met Terrence O'Reilly, who
informed him that on the next day be was going to
Rome. No allusion was made to 0' Keeffe and the
" colleen bawn," but he felt sure that O'Reilly was
going to meet them, and resolved to keep him under
watch. But that night, though at what hour he was
unable to ascertain, O'Reilly bad left the hotel se
cretly, and he was more than ever at a loss what to
do, believing that he had been intentionally deceived.

424 benedict's wanderings.
Of coarse, I could not betray the confidence of
O'Neil, but I resolved in my own mind that, if there
was any Gtb«r way, Harry Musgrave sbould be in
formed.. But this was a passing thought, as I put
down bis letter and took up another — one that I
sbould have opened sooner had- it not escaped my
observation. It was a dainty little missive, like the on-e I bad'
received at Glasgow from "the ship's beaaity," in
viting me to Inverness. I looked at tbe superscription
— it was different ; then at tbe seal. — it was a mono
gram— NMK. "The colleen bawn!" I exclaimed.
But was the note like the one from Mary MacGill,
an invitation to her wedding ?
I opened it quickly, but not without misgivings —
indeed, my heart trembled for poor Harry ; but, hap
pily, without occasion, for it was the harbinger of
hope. Tbe contents of tbe note were brief, but con
tained the important fact which O'Neil bad commu
nicated, that O'Keeffe would spend tbe wiflter at
Ca.tania. As I perused my letters, one after another, I th*ew
tbem asidfe without stopping to refold them ; and
wlien I had finished, ray table, and, indeed, l3he floor
all around me, were literally covered with open let
ters, in the utmost confusion. At that moment,
Professor di LavareUo entered my apaA-tment, accom-

friends, old and new. 425
panied by a ^oung man, and seeing me in tbe midst
of so maay epistles, remaa-ked, facetiously, that be
now saw undoubted evidence of what he had all the
while surmised, that I was reaUy a man of letters.
Tbe young man he introduced as Carlo Pecaaco,
an artifit, with whom he wished me to beeome ac
quainted. " To-morrow," he remarked, " I sball be
obUged to visit Nice on business, and may be ddtained
for two or three days. I bave asked Carlo to show
you through the principal palaces of the city, and
point out the objects most deserving of observation.
Ho will perform the latter duty much better than I,
being an adept in criticisra, as I hope ere long be will
be in execution."
Though anxious to visit some of the grand palaces
I had observed during our drive, I was more desirous
of bearing the professor company to the city of Nice.
The palaces might be seen on another day, but his
society, a rare enjoyment at any time, could not be
had at pleasure. It was too good an opportunity to
be lost, and though he objected at first on the score
of my health, he afterwards consented upon condition
that I was strong enough on the following morning.
That evening was spent with the professor in bis
gorgeous apartraents, where I again met Carlo
Peccaco, and, for the first time, bis sisters. Of these
there were four — Lotta, Assunta, Annetta and Ame-

426

benedict's wanderings.

lia, all younger than their brother, who was but
three-and-twenty. They resided with tbeir widowed
mothe^ in the uppermost story of the hotel, and with
tbeir own hands earned their livelihood.
In tbe life time of their father. Professor di Lav
areUo bad been bis friend, and after bis death was
the best friend of his widow and children. The
young man he aided in the acquirement of his pro
fession, and to tbe sisters be gave gratuitous instruc
tion in music, and doubtless other assistance, for be
was liberal though be made no display of his charity.

CHAPTER VIL

ESPIONAGE.

^ATE as it was that night before the professor
HflM would allow Carlo and myself to retire,— -the
^» girls bad withdrawn about nine o'clock, after
having entertained us with some very excellent music,
— I sat up to write a letter to my wife, and another
to Harry Musgrave. From the former I concealed
nothing, save the unpromising condition of my health;
and from tbe latter nothing, except the facts I bad
learned through O'Neil. Nora's letter I enclosed,
marked " private and confidential." These letters I
posted the next morning before tbe arrival of tbe
diligence. Just as we were about to start, a servant brought
tbe professor bis mail bag, which contained half a
dozen letters, among whicb was one for me from
Bachelor. He bad written to inquire " tbe condition
of my health," and wben I sbould " be ready to join
bim for an excursion into Germany" ; also, to in
quire if I "had been assassinated by Capitano

428 benedict's wanderings.
Leonaldi foi making love to his wife on board the
Sidonia?" I bad entirely forgotten the latter circumstance, at
least I bad not thought of it since the evening of our
arrival in Genoa. More than a week bad elapsed,
and I had not again seen the police officer who that
evemng intruded himself into my apartments. But
on reading that portion of tbe letter to the professor,
be looked a little grave at first, and then said : " The
matter has not been forgotten by the husband. He
believes you are the offender, and is waiting your re
covery." I can not describe my emotions, in whicb anger,
surprise and vexation were mingled. But I de
manded, on tbe instant — " Am I under espionage ? "
" 0 ! that is nothing," replied the professor, with
an air of indifference. " It often happens to stran
gers. Leonaldi is jealous of his wife, and thinks it
necessary to make an example of you, to deter others."
" Of me ! " I exclaimed. " Why, I never spoke
to the woman ! "
" Nevertheless," replied the professor, " be thinks
it was you, and unless your friend comes back, wiU
make you answerable for his conduct."
The affair was beginning to assume a serious aspect,
such as I bad really never contemplated; and I
questioned in my own mind what, under all the

ESPIONAGE. 429
circumstances, was my proper — my paramount duty?
Ought I to recall Bachelor, or take up bis quarrel?
Ought I to play Damon to his Pythias- — I a Benedict,
and be a Bachelor? I can do a great deal for my
friend, but is it my duty to defend bis gallantries,
real or suspected? Finally, hoping there might be an
easier solution of the difficulty, I inquired: "Is the
matter susceptible of an explanation? "
" I fear not," replied the professor. " Several of
Leonaldi' s friends were on board the vessel, and
although my brother assures me it was one of the
most innocent of flirtations, it bas assumed the form
of scandal. In our country there is but one thing
that wiU reraove a stain from the character — blood !
But we shall have tirae enough to think over the
matter on our way to Nice. For the present Leon
aldi is satisfied — I bave made rayself personaUy re
sponsible for your return."
Blood ! Well, to say truth, I never thought the
sound of that word would send a shiver through ray
veins. Among Araericans, courage is a common
quality, and I presume I have my full share ; but I
had never contemplated a duel.^nd its fearful con
sequences. It is easy to condemn a practice of this
character, and stigmatize it as a crime ; but it is not
so easy to refuse a challenge, in a country wbere a
refusal is regarded as cowardice.

430 benedict's Wanderings.
True, it was Bachelor's affair, but if I refused to
sustain bis honor, bow could I escape tbe charge of
connivance at his escape? Assuredly tbe officer left
tbe hotel the night of our arrival in Genoa, under tbe
implied impression that tbe sick man was the offender.
In view of sudden death, or even of its probabilities,
a true Benedict thinks first of his wife and cbildren.
I thought of mine wben tbe wave was carrying me
over the stem of the Sidonia. I thought of tbem
again wben the professor said a stain upon character
could only be removed by blood.
Gradually, I grew meditative, and even melancholy.
But tbe professor, soon as we were under way, put to
flight my gloomy thoughts, by repeating, gaily, lines
be bad beard me quote on a former occasion:
" As we journey through life,
Let us live by tho way ;
The cares of to-morrow,
Let us bury to-day !"

S<»«-

CHAPTER VIII.

NICE DAYS.

>HE road to Nice goes out of Genoa by tbe
Finale, or light-house, which stands on an iso-
ism lated rock at the west side of the harbor.
This beacon is three hundred and eighty-four feet
high, and contains a flashing light, which revolves,
and may be seen on a clear night thirty miles at sea.
On another occasion, I obtained from the toii of this
tower a magnificent view of the city and harbor.
For tbe distance of several miles, to where tbe road
divides, one branch leading to Turin, tbe country is
delightful almost beyond description. On both sides
of tbe way are villas, equal in size and splendor to the
palaces in tbe city. Tbe surroundings are tasteful
and beautiful, as well tbe farms as tbe parks. Withal,
from every house-top and bill-sidC may be obtained a
magnificent view of tbe Mediterranean.
We traveled over what is known as the Corniche
road ; said to be one of the finest coach-ways in
Europe. It resembles, in some respects — though it

432 benedict's wanderings.
is neither so good nor so safe — the great obsolescent
highway, in the United States, indifferently called
tbe Cumberland Road, and National Pike.
At that time the journey could be accomplished in
twenty-four hours' continuous travel, or it could be
extended over the time of two days, if preferred by
the traveler. Out of regard for my health, the pro
fessor made the latter arrangement- and we spent tbe
first night in Oneglia, a town of the Sardinian States,
and tbe capital of a province on the Gulf of Genoa.
Oneglia is not a town of much importance ; the
port is small, and the population less than six thou
sand. It is celebrated as the birth-place of Andrea
Doria, the distinguished Genoese admiral. It con
tains churches, convents and a college, all in a decay
ing condition. In several places may be seen the
remains of the fortifications destroyed by the French
in 1792.
Tbe only other place on our way worthy of particu
lar mention was Mentone, the largest town in the
principality of Monaco, beautifully situated on tbe
Mediterranean. It is noted for the purity of its
atmosphere, and is of late years attracting attention
as a winter residence.
Monaco, though under the protection of Sardinia,
is an independent principality, and the sraallest in tbe
world. ¦ It was founded in tbe tenth century, in favor

434 BfillEDiCT's WANDERlltGS.
of a member of tbe bouse of Grimaldi who drove tbe
Saracens from tbe king's dominions, and contains an
area of fifty-three square milfes, and a population of
less than seven thousand inhabitants.
We arrived in Nice just in time to obtain a view of
tbe Mediterranean at sunset — one of tbe most charm
ing prospects I ever enjoyed. Tbe city is beautifully
situated in a small plain, -which it nearly covers, at
tbe foot of tbe Maratime Alps, of which department
it is tbe capital. On tbe south its walls are washed
by the sea, and on the nortb and east it is enclosed by
tbe mountains, in the form of an amphitheatre. The
Paglion, a mountain torrent, traverses tbe city, and
separates it into two parts, one ancient and tbe other
modern. Overhanging the town is tbe citadel of
Mont Albano, an old castle enclosed by bastioned
walls. All these things were plainly visible as we entered
the city, though it was too late to note objects of less
prominence. The foUowing day, however, while the
professor was attending to business, I wandered
about the city, from place to place, wherever I could
bear of any thing worthy of my observation.
Properly tbe city is divided into three parts — tbe
Old Town, the Harbor, and tbe Quartier de la
Croix ; tbe last being tbe usual residence of for
eigners. Tbe old town was settled by tbe inhabitants

NICE DAYS. 435
of Marseilles, in commemoration of a victory. The
streets are narrow and mean-looking, compared with
those of the Quartier de la Croix, where the bouses
are built in modern styles, and painted externally in
frescoes. The Quartier de la Croix — sometimes called the
English Quarter, owing to the preponderance of the
English, who usually number five or six thousand —
derived its name from a marble cross, raised in 1538,
to commemorate the visit of Paul IIL, Pope of Rome,
who came to reconcile Francis I. of France -with
Charles V. of Germany. Directly opposite the cross
is a raonuraent erected to commemorate tbe visits of
another pope, Pius VIL, in 1809 and 1814. The
Public Garden is also in this part of the city ; and
the Promenade Anglais, a very beautiful walk, on a
raised terrace that serves as a defence for tbe town
against tbe sea. Usually of an afternoon, this prom
enade is thronged with the fashionable people of the
city. Nice was the birth-place of several celebrated men
 among others, Vanloo, the painter ; Cassini, the
astronomer ; Marshal Massena, in 1758 ; and Gara-
baldi, on the fourth of July, 1807.
There are several houses whic(h the people point
out -with pride to strangers : one in the Rue Droite,
a palace ill whicb tbe Emperor Lascaris, after being

436 benedict's wanderings.
dethroned at Constantinople in 1261, resided with bis
daughter, who married one of the Grimaldi ; another
in the Rue de Villefranca, where Napoleon Bona
parte lodged in 1794 ; and another in the Quay
Cassini, in whicb the ItaUan patriot was born — Gar
ibaldi. The principal edifices are not distinguished for any
peculiar architectural merit. The Cathedral is in
the ordinary ItaUan style, and the other churches
have nothing unusual in tbeir appearance. There is
a theatre, a hospital, a public library, mills and man
ufactories — all ordinary structures.
Having completed his business by evening, the
professor devoted the next day for my pleasure, in
riding with me about the country. A short distance
from the city are many places of interest, including
some ancient ruins. In fact, the environs are very
beautiful, east, west, and north. Altogether, it was
one of the pleasantest days of my life.
The next day we took the steamer for Genoa, and
in a little more than eight hours afterwards, were
safe at our hotel, in the Piazza Ponte.

CHAPTER IX.

THE CORSO.

WAS not benefitted by my excursion to Nice ;
on the contrary, I was fatigued and debilitated.
For three days after my return I was unable to
leave my apartments. Of course I became restless ; I
always do when confined to the house. But I em
ployed the tirae in writing letters to my friends, and
in linguistic study and translation ; except the even
ings, which were spent in the apartments of Professor
di LavareUo, in the society of hiraself and the brother
and sisters Peccaco.
Aside from the confinement, these were very plea
sant days ; but the days that immediately followed
were still more pleasant, for a considerable portion of
thera were spent in the Corso — the fashionable prora
enade of the city, where the old and young, the
grave and gay, and " the stranger witliin the gates,"
not " plain in dress," but arrayed
"As you were going to a feast,"
meet in the afternoons and evenings, and, to the

438 benedict's wanderings.
extent of their acquaintance, enjoy eacb other's society.
There is almost no other place for sociability, for
visiting is by no means customary ; in fact, it is
almost wholly confined to very intimate friends, and
even by them but little practiced.
For more than a week I spent nearly all my days,
and, indeed, many of my evenings, in tbe Coreo ;
sometimes alone, but more frequently with my ac
quaintances. I was usuaUy alone in tbe mornings,
though occasionally I had for my companion the pro
fessor, or a friend of* his, Emilius Cerreni, a ship-
broker, and a very agreeable gentleman. In the
afternoons I was usually accompanied by Carlo and
his sisters ; and our party was sometimes augraented
by the presence of two young men, Imperiale Gio
BoUe and G. Seriartto, who, it was intimated, were
paying their addresses to two of the sisters. Later
still, I strolled sometimes with Carlo, and at others
with a sub-lieutenant of infantry, Buju Guiseppe, a
young man of remarkable intelligence.
Returning toward our hotel one afternoon, our party
had become a little separated. I was walking by the
side of Assunta, who was engaged in Uvely conversa
tion. Suddenly she stopped, and abruptly inquired :
" Do you know that woman? " I looked first at her,
and then in the direction indicated by ber eyes. At a
short distance, walking alone inthe opposite direction.

THE CORSO. 439
but gazing directly at me, was tbe beautiful Lauretta
Leonaldi. I had not seen ber since we separated at
the pier, on my arrival in Genoa, yet I knew her in
stantly. She was not a woman to be easily forgotten;
besides, had she not already involved me in difficulty?
But immediately, on observing that she was recog^
nized, she withdrew her gaze, and pursued ber course
without again looking in our direction. I explained
to Assunta that she was a fellow-voyager frora Glas
gow, -with whom Bachelor had been infatuated until
he ascertained that she waa a married woman.
Tbe next evening, and the next, we met her near
the same place, and each time she looked at me in
tently for a raoment, and then passed on without any
recognition. It was possible that she wished to speak
to me — ^perhaps to inquire something concerning my
traveling companion, with whora she had openly
coquetted on board the Sidonia — and was deterred by
tbe presence of pei-sons with whom she was not ac-^
quainted. Perhaps— but where was the use of con
jecture, when the fact could be so easily ascertained?
It bad been my custom either to return to the hotel
in time for Carlo and his sisters, or to join tbem at a
particular place on the promenade. The next day I
did neither, but purposely remained away from tbe
hotely and avoided them at the plaee of rendezvous*
But when they had gone on, after waiting for me a

440 benedict's wanderings.
reasonable time, I strolled down tbe promenade jn
the hope of again meeting the lovely Lauretta. In
this I was not disappointed — near the place where
we had met for three days, we met again ; but
I was greatly disappointed in another respect —
she passed me in the sarae manner as on the otber
occasions. Somewhat chagrined, I walked on and joined my
customary companions. Yet, on the next afternoon,
I pursued precisely the same course; this time with
better success. Though she did not give me any
formal recognition, she dropped a bit of paper, in sucb
way as attracted my attention. Iinmediately I let
fall my handkerchief, and in stooping to pick it up
secured the paper. It contained only these words, in
a neat and pretty penmanship — " I am watched.
Be at the Madonetta to-morrow morning at ten
o'clock. Have something of vital iraportance to com
municate." For several days I had been contemplating a more
extended excursion, one that should embrace Milan at
one extreme, and at the other Venice. But tbe pro
fessor had insisted that I was not yet strong enough
to undertake so long a journey.
In the morning I bad said : " I wish I could set out
to-morrow." In the evening be had replied: "I
think you can do so with safety."

THE CORSO. 441
" But with greater safety the day following,' ' I
suggested, " as it will give me one more day for re
cuperation." " At the crisis of a fever, a day is of importance,"
be replied, " but of very little account in conval
escence. But why not to-morrow ?"
I should have been surprised at an interrogatory so
pointed, if I had not suspected that it was equally
significant — that it implied some knowledge of the
scene in tbe Corso.
"On to-morrow," I replied, as carelessly as I could
under the suspicion I entertained, "a letter from
Bachelor may change all my plans."
" The cars will not leave until after the morn
ing mail is distributed," he replied, " and I can ar
range to have any letters for you, delivered during
our absence, forwarded to Venice or Florence."
I made no immediate reply ; indeed, I did not
know what to answer. I was uncertain whether he
had a suspicion of what had transpired ; he had said
nothing that would fully warrant the conclusion. I
considered — hesitated — but finally resolved to take
him into my confidence.
He manifested some surprise at what I told him,
and much more that I contemplated a visit to the
Madonnetta. I was of tbe opinion, however, that be
was not at all surprised ; that he knew the one fact.

442 benedict's wanderings.
and strongly suspected tbe other, so easily is a man' s
curiosity excited by a woman. I was also of tbe opin
ion, that it was for these very reasons he suggested
my departure the next moming, instead of the morn
ing following as I preferred ; though he put it on tbe
ground of a personal appointment, made for himself
in Milan, by a literary friend whom he held in tbe
highest estimation.
Though the matter was left in this unsettled con
dition, the professor took it for granted that I would
follow his suggestion, for shortly after we separated
for tbe night, he despatched a runner to engage seats
for us in the morning train of cars. In my own mind,
however, the point was still undetermined ; and it
was a long tirae after I retired to rest, before I' bad
decided between duty and inclination — between Milan
and the Madonnetta.

CHAPTER X.

AWAY FROM DANGER.
@afl|! 'f ten o'clock the next morning, the hour named

by the lovely Lauretta for rae to "be at the
Madonetta," the professor and I were crossing
the plain of Marengo, memorable for the battle fought
in the summer of 1800, between Napoleon and the
Austrians, in which the latter wei-e completely de
feated. No better field for the strife of armies could
be found anywhere ; it is flat, extensive, and without
either trees or fences. The professor pointed out to
me the haralet of Marengo, from which the battle
derived its name, and the trenches in which the dead
were buried ; but no traCe was visible of the column,
surmounted by an eagle, erected on the spot where
Desaix fell in the raoraent of victory.
At the distance of two miles farther, we entered
Alessandria, a fortified city of Piedmont, in a sterile
plain on the Tanaro, founded in the twelfth century.
It is a very well-built city, and including the suburbs
and garrison, contains over fifty thousand inhabitants.

444 benedict's wanderings.
It is the see of a bishop, and has a cathedral ; also, a
royal college, a theological seminary, a gymnasium,
several hospitals and orphan asylums, and very "ex
tensive barracks. Before tbe destruction of tbe *
formidable fortifications constructed by tbe French
during their domination, it was one of tbe strongest
places in Europe. Only the citadel is left; a fortress
built in 1728, of such immense proportions as to con
tain a parish church and extensive barracks and
armories. The principal work of art is the statue of
St. Joseph of Parodi, in tbe cathedral. The finest
palace is that of tbe king, tbe Palazza Gbilino, built
by Count Alfieri, tbe greatest, and almost the only
distinguished tragic poet modern Italy ever produced.
Between Alessandria and Novara, the only place of
any importance through which we passed was Valenza,
a town of nearly eight thousand inhabitants, enclosed
by walls, and entered by four gates; but containing
no specimen of art or architecture particularly worthy
of observation.
Novara is a larger and better town, having nearly
twice as many inhabitants, and some excellent edi
fices, the best of which are the Cathedral, tbe Basilica
of San Gaudenzia, and the Dominican Cburcb. Alto
gether, there are over, a dozen churches, tbe most
noted being San Pietro al Rosario, wbere sentence was
passed upon Frati Dolcino, who, with Margaret, the

AWAY FROM DANGER. 445
beautiful nun whom he abducted from her convent,
was burned alive in March, 1.307. There are fourteen
convents, a hospital, a ball of commerce, a govern
ment bank, a theatre and two colleges. Formerly,
the town was surrounded by fortifications, but when
I was there they were in a dilapidated condition, and
many of them had entirely disappeared. Novara is
celebrated as the scene of the sanguinary action
between the Austrians and the Piedmontese, fought
in 1849, resulting in tbe defeat of the latter, and tbe
abdication of their leader, Carlo Alberto.
A short distance from Novara we passed through
Magenta, a town of nearly six thousand inhabitants,
near which a battle was fought in 1859, between the
Austrian army and the allied forces of France and
Sardinia, in which the latter were victorious.
During the day very many objects passed under my
observation, all of which, one after another, were
carefully coraraented upon by the ])rofessor, who
seemed to know everything about everything. Indeed,
he scarcely allowed me a moment to think of the
lovely Lauretta, whom I bad so ungallantly dis
appointed. Yet be never made the slightest allusion
to her or to ber appointment; but, on tbe other hand,
spoke several times of his own engagement in Milan,
as if it was of much importance. Nevertheless, there
were times, in spite of the attention I endeavored to

446 benedict's wanderings.
bestow upon his interesting conversation, when the
question would intrude itself on my mind — What can
that " something of vital importance " be, which
Lauretta Leonaldi wished " to communicate " to me
"at the . Madonetta? "
At one time I became quite abstracted, and the
professor, observing my inattention, ceased for a
moment. His sudden silence put an end to my
reverie, and, thinking it a favorable opportunity, I
alluded to the wrath of Leonaldi. The professor
replied : " It is better not to mar tbe pleasure of our
trip by any reference to that subject. I am of the
opinion that, if nothing happens hereafter to excite
his jealousy, the matter wUl occasion you no further
trouble. " But," he added, as a caution against the
wiles of the lovely Lauretta," should he become en
raged a second time, I would not be answerable for
the consequences.''

CHAPTER XI.

THE OLD CAPITAL.

(^^4[1;'S we approached the ancient city of Milan, the
y^JI^, professor made it the subject of reraark. " It

,.^1t^

r*^^^^ was founded nearly six hundred years before
the Christian era, and has passed through many vicis
situdes. It was subjugated by MarceUus and Scipio,
and annexed to the Roman dorainions. It is raen
tioned in Strabo as a flourishing city, and in the reign
of Gratian ranked the sixth in the emjiire. In 1056
it was the capital of a republic, -and near the close of
the fourteenth century became the cajdtal of the
duchy of Milan. After the battle of Pavia, it was
held by Spain, and in 1714 was ceded to Austria. It
was captured by the French in 1796, and again, after
the battle of Marengo. For nine years from 1805, it
was tbe capital of Italy, and then was restored to
Austria. It is now what you behold, a grand city,
the largest of Lombardy, and in population only
exceeded by Naples and Rome."
Milan is situated in a beautiful plain, fertile and

» « •

y-p'^M^ '

* V '

l^l^!^

!!M.

^ ^ ^ Jf *',-ji^^* ^ JI ' &'¦!

?4

' j:
.^>^J-i!i i =**'«^'
'THE OLt) CAPITAL. 449
richly cultivated, at an elevation of four hundred and
fifty feet above the sea, between the Adda and Ticino.
In shape, it is an irregular polygon, approaching to a
circle. It is eight miles in circumference, and sur
rounded by a wall, the greater portion of which was
built by the Spaniards in 1555. It is entered by
eleven gates, including the Arco della Pace, a mo
dern, sculptured, marble arch, richly adorned with
statues, designed by the Marquis Cagnola. This
gate, whicb is seventy-three feet long, and ninety-
eight in height to the top of the principal statue, is
situated at the commencement of the Simplon road, in
the rear of a large open space called the Piazza d' Armi,
used for the exercise of troops, part of which has been
converted into an amphitheatre capable of contain
ing thirty thousand spectators.
Like most ancient cities, Milan is irregularly laid
out, and tbe styles of architecture are various, ex
tending over a period of several centuries. For the
most part, tbe houses are built of brick, and covered
with tiles, but many of thera have a showy exterior.
There are a few noble thoroughfares, as tbe Corso di
Porta Nuova, the Corso di Porta Romana, and the
Corso di Porta Renza, all of which have ranges of
very fine mansions. Some of the private palaces are
very beautiful, particularly the Palazzo Belgioso,

450 benedict's WANDERINGS.
formerly the villa of Napoleon, afterward of Eugene
Beauharnais. The principal buildings are the government and
judicial palaces, the theatres, and the churches. Of
the palaces, those that particularly attracted my at
tention were the Palazza Reale, occupied by the
viceroy ; the Palazza del Marnio, used as a custom
house and treasury ; the Palazza di Giustizia, for a
criminal court ; and the Palazza de' Tribunali, for
tbe ordinary courts of justice. The Delia Scala, ca
pable of accomraodating four thousand spectators, is
not only the largest theatre in tbe city, but is said to
be the largest in the world, not excepting the San
Carlo of Naples. I visited a few of the churches —
San Ambrogio, founded by St. Ambrose in 387, in
which the eraperors of Gerraany were formerly
crowned ; Santa Maria delle Grazie, in which is the
celebrated Last Supper, by Leonardo da Vinci ; Santa
Maria della Passione, which contains a magnificent
mausoleum, by Andrea Fusini ; and the Cathedral.
As a church, the Cathedral is second only to St.
Peter's at Rome ; as a specimen of Gothic architec
ture, it is superior to anything in Italy. Its con
struction was commenced in 1387, and though it has
been progressing ever since, it is not yet completed.
It is built of white marble, in the form of a Latin
cross ; is four hundred and ninety feet long, two hun-

* '¦ * -^/ , H'

452 benedict's wanderings.
dred and ninety-eight feet wide, and tbre.«i %n4re,d
and fifty-five feet to the top of tbe dqipe, ^bicb i?
surniounted by an elegant spire ip tbe form of ap
obelisk. More than a hundred other ^it^, adorn tbe
edifice, every one of whicb is crownefj. witb a, statute
larger than life. .,
In tbe interior, every tbii|g.i^ of tbe iflo^tin^posing
and gorgeous descriptioq, I-tis diyide4fiRtjO %§ parts,
by a hundred and sixty marble colnfflPSj Tbe
arches of the naves are s,uppor,tfi,4. by fifty pillar^,,
eight feet in diameter and ninety feet in beigj|t, The,
floor is coniposed of red, blue, and Kbif^ iposaics,
tastefully disposed in %ures. GjOupS; of fi^Uffiss ^re.
sketched oh the, vvindovY^, ajid on tj|e ^Ip ^^^.vM^h
ings by the most celebrated: QJafSterf. B contains,;
four thousand six hundred nifill^.^ for st^tjte^ off
which nearly four thousa,nd, are alffj^jly . qpci^ipd? , t
Tbe sculpture, carvings and spiry,, :fyftt.-^<|TJ^ g^
seen to best advantage frora the rpofl;^ i?Hlft^? i^ is
impossible, froip any other point, to&ryft a jm^t= i^^
ofthe exterior decorations. IJnt to rgig^ch tbis v^^t
elevation, it is necessary to raqupt a series qf^t^^irSj in
aU, four hundred and sixty-eiigbt stgp|. I -(^^.l^^tii
to nndertake the t^slj, but was f^inp]y^r^\^^4^,;^^^itfl
aQcomplisl^meflt, l^esi4f^^jpyii;|^^ff^^^ 1^^ ^g t^
widest anddpv.ellest.prp^^.et^iii.I^lyj.
At on^ tjipft tj^xitjc, qii'Milwu w& %, imMbaaa, of

THi! OLb OAflTAL, 453
Virgil, It is tbe birth-place of many eminent per
sons, including five popes, Alexander IL, Urban III,,
Celestine IV,, Pius IV,, and Gregory XIV. Of the
otber eminent persons born bere, the best known are
Alciato, tbe jurist; Cstrdfan, tbe astronomer; Bec-
cario, tbe author ; Agues!, a lady, distinguished for
her scientific attainments; and Manzoni, tbe first
Italian novelist of tbe present century.
Whatever was tbe business of Professor di Lavar
eUo in Milan, it did not interfere with my pleasure in
atiy wise, or even deprive me of his company. On
our arrival, I bad procured a carriage, and he went
%itb me to all tbe places I have mentioned, and to
many others entitled to observation, though less cele
brated. It is true, in tbe evening, after our drive was
concluded, be receivOd many visitors, all persons of
distinction, and some of tbem aniong tbe most eini-
ment men of Italy ; but, so far as I OOnld discover,
tbey merely came to pay their respects to a man as
famous as themselves. I was now fully convinced bf
what I suspected before 'we left Genoa, that the busi
ness enigttgieinent of tbe professor was merely a pre
fence to draw me away from danger.

CHAPTER XII.

HALF THE KINGDOM.

¦r^SROM the capital of Lombardy to the capital of
iE! K Venice — the two capitals of the Lombardo-
^SS' Venetian Kingdom — we passed through sev
eral provinces and chief towns of the two govern
ments. Next to Milan is the province of Bergarno, a
fertile, highly cultivated and populous district, the
capital of which is a fortified city of the same name,
containing about twenty-five thousand inhabitants.
Bergamo is one of the most picturesque places in
Northern Italy, and is erabellished with many noble
edifices. Araong these is a handsorae cathedral, which
contains a beautiful torab in memory q{ Bartolommeo
Coleone, and some fine paintings of the Venitian
School. There are nuraerous other churches and
chapels, a dozen rnonasteries, nearly as many con
vents, a college, athenaum, academy of fine arts,
public library, military asylum, several theatres, and
many charitable institutions.
Annually, in the latter part of August and begin-

HALF THB KINGDOM. 455
ning of September, the city is enlivened by a cele
brated fair, in honor of Harlequin, who, it is claimed,
was born in Bergamo. The distinguishing character
istic of this fair is tbe harlequinade, which embraces
every species of drollery and mimicry. It is tbe
largest fair held in tbe north of Italy, and tbe pro
ceeds sometimes amount to six milUon dollars.
In tbe great square of the city is a colossal statue
to Torquato Tasso, the poet, whose father, Bernardo
Tasso, was bom in Bergamo. This city was also tbe
birth-place of Tiraboschi, a learned Jesuit, author
of Storia della Litteratura Italiana ; of Antonio
Sevassi, the biographer of Dante, Petrarch and
Tasso ; and of the distinguished composers, Rubini
and Donizetti.
Leaving Bergamo, we passed through a rich plain
at the foot of the Alps, to the city of Brescia, which
contains now over forty tholisand inhabitants. An
ciently, this city was the capital of the Cenomani, a
people of Cisalpine Gaul, afterwards subjected to the
Romans. In the year 412, it was conquered and par
tially burned by the Goths, and soon after completely
destroyed by AtUla. At tbe end of; forty years it
was rebuilt, and nearly five centuries later, was de
clared a free city by Otho I. of Saxony. After three
hundred years of prosperity, it fell a prey to the con
tending factions of the Guelfs and GhibeUines, and

456 BElf^falCT's WANDERlifbs.
ultimately paSsed under tbe protection of Venice.
In 1796, it was taken by tbe French, and in 1815,
was ceded to Austria. In 1849, being in revolt and
bairicaded, it was carried at the point of tbe bayonet,
by the Austrians under General Hayuau, in this Couil
try known as the woman-whipper.
In 1820, excavations were commenced in Brescia,
and continued for six years. Many Roman antiqui
ties were brought to light, tbe most important being
the remains of tbe Forum of Arrius, part of an edi
fice supposed to have been the Curia, and a magnifi
cent temple of white marble, with Corintbiah columns
supposed to have been dedicated to Hercules in tbe
year 72. After the excavations were discontinued,
a beautiful bronze statue was discovered — tbe God
dess of Victory, regarded by connoisseurs as " one of
the most sublime specimens of Grecian art. Tbe
Forum df Arrius is now tbe Piazza del Novarino,
and tbe Temple of Hercules is a public museum, in
which is preserved a valuable collection of antiquities.
The principal edifices are tbe Duomo Vecchio,
constructed in tbe seventh century during the Lorh-
bard dynasty ; tbe Duomo Nuovo, entirely of marble,
commenced in 1604, tbe dome of which is next in
size to that of the Cathedral at Florence ; tbe thurch
of San Afra, supposed to stand on tbe foundations of
an ancient edifice consecrated to Saturn ; and tbe

HALF THB KINGDOM. 457
Palazza di Giustizia, built on tbe site of an ancient
temple dedicated to Vulcan, and displaying a com
pound of Grecian and Gothic architecture. There
are numerous otber churches and palaces, adorned
with famous masterpieces of Rapba,el, Titian, Moretto,
and Paul Veronese. The squares, whicb are many,
are beautified witb more than seventy fountains.
My visit to Brescia was very pleasant, for the pro
fessor was informed witb reference to every object of
importance, particularly the antiquities, which are of
chief interest to a stranger.
Leaving the city, we passed through a portion of
the old ramparts, now in a crumbling condition. The
professor pointed out to me, with the skill of an engineer,
wherein lay tbeir great strength and security as a for
tification. But tbey are now entirely dismantled.
He was still discoursing on the subject of fortifica
tions, when we reached Lonato, a town of nearly six
thousand inhabitants, enclosed by a wall, and de
fended by a citadel. It is celebrated for the victory
of Napoleon over the Austrians in 1796.
As we crossed tbe Mincio, the professor remarked,
" This little stream," — it is small at that point, though
navigable for barges below Mantua — " is the line of
separation between the governments of Lombardy and
Venice. Behind us is half the kingdom, before us
tbe other half"

CHAPTER XIII.

THE OTHER HALF.

P

I WAS particularly struck with the magnificence
of Verona, as we approaijhed. The street
^^ through which we entered the city, is one of
the widest in Europe. The city is beautifully situ
ated on the Adige, enclosed by a series of terrated
walls, and entered by five gates. The ancient forti
fications are attributed to Charlemagne and the
Scaligers, and the double gateway, called Porta dei
Borsari, to GaUienus. It is composed of marble, and
each gateway is ornamented by Corinthian pilasters.
It has been standing sixteen centuries.
Tbe origin of Verona is unsettled, though it is
supposed to have been founded in the fourth century
before the Christian era. Under the Roraaris, by
whom it was subjected, it rose to great iraportance.
It was adorned with nuraerous magnificent structures,
of which there are stiU sorae remains, the most per
fect of which is tbe amphitheatre, which is supposed

THE OTHER HALF.

459

to have been built ir tbe reign of Trojan. This
magnificent building, the largest of its kind except
tbe Colosseum at Rome, is in better preservation than
any otber, and the only one now used for public spec
tacles. The interior is in good condition, but the
outer circuit — originally containing seventy-two arches,

AMPHITHEATRE AT VERONA.
only four of which now remain — was very badly
damaged by an earthquake in 1184. The building is
oval in form, 510 feet in length, 412 in width, and,
wben perfect, 120 in height ; tbe arenu 250 by 147.
Forty-five rows of seats encircle the arena, capable of
accommodating twenty-five thousand spectators. The

460 benedict's wanderings.
most noticeable of the otber Roman remains, are
traces of a theatre and two grand arches.
A curious monument of tbe Middle Ages, are tbe
tombs of tbe ScaUgeri, the Lords of Verona — a series
of Gothic pyramids, surraounted by an equestrian
statue of each prince. Another tomb worthy of
mention is that of Juliet (iramortalized by Shake
speare), which stands in tbe garden of Orfanotrofio —
as a work of art, however, of inferior merit.
There are over forty churches, some of which are
distinguished. San Zeno is a curious structure, of
the seventh and twelfth centuries, and contains a
statue to St. Zeno, Bishop of Verona in 362. San
Fenno, founded in 750, contains sorae remarkable
monuments and two urns belonging to the Dante
family. Santa Maria Matricolare, tbe cathedral,
erected in tbe time of Charlemagne, is the burial
place of Pope Lucius IIL, and of the poet De
Cesuris. San Anastasia, a Gothic structure, and one
ofthe most beautiful in Italy, is of great, size, and
contains many magnificent raonuments. San Giorgio
has a high altar of exquisite workmanship, and con
tains two very celebrated paintings, tbe Martyrdom
of St. George, by Paul Veronese, and the Miracle of
the Loaves and Fishes, by Farinati.
Verona is tbe birth-place of many distinguished
men; among others, of CatuUus, a Roman poet

TttE OTHER HALF. 461
before Christ : Aurelius Macer, a poet of tbe Augus
tine era ; Cornelius Nepos, a Latin historian; tbe
elder Pliny, a distinguished Roman writer, who
perished in an eruption of Vesuvius ; and the cele
brated artists, Bianchini and Paul CagUari, surnamed
tbe Veronese.
Though beautifully situated on the Bacchiglione,
my first impression of Vicenza was not favorable ; it
is enclosed by dry moats and broken walls, and ex
hibits many otber marks of decay. This is particu
larly noticeable in the palaces, some of which are
superior in design, but much neglected and only half
inhabited. It is a very anCient city, however, and
bas passed through many vicissitudes, some of a very
destructive character. About tbe year 400 it was
sacked by Alaric, subsequently pillaged by Atilla, tbe
Lombards, and Frederick IL, and in 1848, bombarded
and greatly damaged by tbe Austrians. Withal, it
is one of the best buUt cities in Italy, the architec
ture, chiefly that of PaUadio, being distinguished for
its accuracy of proportion.
Tbe principal structure is the Teatro Olynipico, the
masterpiece of PaUadio, built in imitation of the
ancient theatres. Tbe church San Lorenzo is a very
handsome edifice in the Gothic style. The Rotonda
Capra, known as Palladio's villa, once an elegant
edifice, presents now a dreary appearance, having

462 benedict's wanderings.
been almost entirely ruined by the Austrians in 1848.
The structures which attract most attention are tbe
palaces of PaUadio and Pigafetta, and the Ponte de
San Michele, scarcely inferior to the Rialto of Venice.
In tbe pubUc ceraetery is a fine raonument to Pal-
ladio, and in the church of San Lorenzo is another to
Ferreti, the historian. This church also contains the
tomb of Vincent Scaraozzi, the raost celebrated
architect of his age, and the slab-torab that formerly
covered the reraains of Giovanni Giorgio, the poet.
Like raost travelers, I was greatly disappointed in
the appearance of Padua. Being the oldest city in
tbe north of Italy, with over fifty thousand inhabi
tants, much is expected. But it is damp and gloomy;
the situation is low and marshy, and the streets
narrow and unclean. Its foundation is ascribed to
An tenor, soon after the fall of Troy. Like most of
the cities of the Lombardo-Venetian Kingdom, it was
sacked by Alaric, Atilla, and the Lombards. It was
restored to its former grandeur by Charlemagne, under
whose successors it grew to opulence and power.
Eventually, as did tbe cities of Verona and Vicenza,
it was united to the Venetian territory.
This city is of a triangular form, surrounded by
walls and fosses, and has seven gates. It is not
adorned with many handsome edifices, though there
are a few fine speciraens of architecture, chief among

THE OTHER HALF. 463
which is the University, built after designs by Pal-
ladio. This institution was founded by Emperor
Frederick IL, in opposition to that of Bologna, and
during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries contained
students from all parts of Europe, at times to tbe
number of eighteen thousand. Many distinguished
men received their education here ; Columbus, Dante,
Tasso, Petrarch and Evelyn among the number; and
it was here Harvey received his degree of medicine.
There are about one hundred churches, of which a
few are entitled to special notice. The Duomo, now
a hundred years completed, was two hundred years in
progress of construction ; it contains a Madonna by
Giotto, and a monument to the memory of Petrarch.
San Giustina, destroyed by an earthquake in 1117, was
rebuilt in the thirteenth century, and again in tbe
sixteenth ; it is said to contain the bones of three
thousand saints. San Antonio, in the Oriental style,
with eight cupolas, was built in the thirteenth century;
the exterior is not attractive, but the interior is elabor
ately decorated.
Tbe Arena, now a castle," is supposed to bave been
originally a Roman amphitheatre, as portions of the
Roman masonry are still visible ; it was designed and
decorated by Giotto. The Palazza deUa Municipalita
is remarkable for its very high roof, which is said to
be the largest in the world unsupported by columns.

464 benedict's wanderings.
I was particularly pleased with the Prato-della-
VaUe, in which tbe fair is held. Tbe interior is sur
rounded by a circular stream of water, tbe banks of
which are decorated with numerous statues of cele
brated men, natiye and of other countries. It is the
fashionable, indeed, the only promenade, and is much
frequented by the citizens.
As in tbe otber cities through whicb we passed.
Professor di LavareUo accompanied me to all the
places worthy of notice, and in the evening strolled
witb me in tbe public promenade. Though be bad
once been a professor in the University of Milan, he
seemed to be equally well known among men of edu
cation in Padua, several of whom we encountered in
our walk. To all of these gentlemen, and to others
who called upon bim at the hotel after our return, be
introduced me as his friend from America.

CHAPTER XIV.
QUEEN OF THE ADRIATIC.
HERE was no place in Italy I so much desired
^ to behold as Venice, the city of tbe sea, or, as

^^gjl^it was called during tbe centuries when it was .
the first maratine and commercial city of the world,
tbe Queen of the Adriatic. It was founded in the
year 452, after tbe invasion of Italy by Atilla, wben
a number of refugees sought an asylum in the islands
of tbe Adriatic, and formed a confederation to oppose
tbe northern barbarians. During its independence,
tbe government underwent several important changes,
or revolutions. In 1797, it was conquered by tbe
French, and is now the capital of the delegation of
its own name, and one of the capitals of tbe Lom
bardo- Venitian Kingdom.
The city is unique, both as regards situation and
construction ; it is built on eighty-two small islands,
tbe houses having piles for a foundation. The
channels whicb separate these islands are called
canals, and are 150 in number ; and the islands are

466

benedict's wanderings.

connected by as many as 350 bridges. The highways
or pubUc passages are of two kinds, land and water.
The former are called streets, or, more properly, lanes,
as tbey are very narrow; the latter are the canals —
the avenues. The lanes and bridges are used by the

\

A CANAL AT VENICE.

great mass of the people, who go about their business
as in other cities ; tbe canals are used for gondolas,
which take tbe place of omnibuses and similar con
veyances. The Canalazo, or Grand Canal, passes through tbe
heart of the city, and divides it into two distinct and
nearly equal parts. It is a series of serpentine wind-

QtJEEN OF THE ADRIATIC. 467
ings, varying in width from 100 to 180 feet. Along
its whole course, on both sides, and so near tbe water
that tbey may be entered from the gondolas, are
buildings of various kinds, some of which are palaces
of great magnificence. It is crossed by only one
bridge, tbe Rialto, whicb spans it by a single arch of
eighty-nine feet, and is celebrated as being the hand
somest bridge in the world. From this bridge the
view is truly magnificent.
In this connection, I may mention another famous
structure of the same character, the Ponte de' Sospiri,
or " Bridge of Sighs," which derives its melancholy
but appropriate name from tbe circumstance that
criminals were conveyed across it to hear tbeir sen
tence, and were thence led to execution. It has been
immortalized by Lord Byron in his description of
Venice, fourth canto of Childe Harold :
" I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs."
The streets are generally but four feet in width,
though a few of tbem are as much as six, and two of
them are perhaps three times the width of the latter,
the Merceria and tbe Piazetta. Tbe former of these
is situated near the center of the city, and is the
principal shopping street. Tbe latter, leading to the
Piazza of St. Mark, crosses tbe Merceria at right
angles, and extends to the sea ; and in front of it
stands two granite obelisks, eacb formed out of a

468 benedict's wanderi'ngs.
single block, one crowned witb a bronze statue of tbe
winged Uon of St. Mark, and tbe otber witb a Uke
statue of St. Theodore.
The squares are many in number, but of very
limited extent, owing to tbe smaUness of tbe islands.
Tbe principal one — ^in size, regularity and beauty of
situation — is the Piazza di San Marco, at tbe entrance
of the Canalazo. It is a parallelogram, being 600
feet in length and 300 in width. It contains some of
the principal edifices — the old palace Of tbe doges, tbe
Cathedral of St. Mark, tbe Orologio, tbe Campanile,
the Mint and tbe libraries among tbe number — and
numerous sbops and arcades. It is tbe great center
of concourse, tbe scene of masquerades and festivals,
and with tbe Piazetta, constitutes tbe fashionablie
promenade of the city, and tbe state entrance from
tbe sea.
There are a great many churches, some of which
are truly magnificent, the Basalica of St. Mark, for
merly the ducal chapel, being one of the grandest in
Christendom. It was designed by architects from
Constantinople, and is in tbe Byzantine style, but
finished in the Italian Gothic of tbe fifteenth century.
It is in tbe form of a Grecian cross, 245 feet in length,
200 in width, and 92 in height to the top of tb«
principal dome. The decorations, external and in-
temal, are supported by hundreds of marble pillars.

QUEEN or THE ADRIATIC. 4j69
bsongbt from Greece, chiefly Saracenic, and many of
tbem covered witb deeply cut Syrian inscriptions.
Tbe principal front is ornamented witb five hundred
columns, some of white, black and veined marble, and
others of verd-antique, alabaster and bronze; eight of
whicb, of a serpentine form, very remarkable, were
brought by the Venitians froin Constantinople, and
are supposed to have belonged to tbe Temple at
Jerusalem. It terminates in pointed arches, sur
mounted by numerous spir.es, pinacles, crosses and
statues; and over the portal are the four celebrated
bronze horses, believed to be the work of Lysippus,
which originally adomed Corinth, and subsequently
Athens, Rome, Constantinople, Venice and Paris.
The interior is beautiful alraost beyond description;
tbe roofs being covered witb rich mosaics, and the
walls witb precious marbles, while tbe columns are of
verd-antique and porphyry, and the floors of white
and colored marble, agate, jasper and porphyry, all
beautifully arranged. The Pala d'Oro, a mosaic in
gold, sUver and enamel, made at Constantinople, is
tbe finest specimen of Byzantine art in existence.
The altar table in the Baptistry is formed of tbe
granite slab upon which the Saviour is supposed to
bave stood when be preached to the inhabitants of
Tyre. The Sacrisfy is entesred by a nwigittficent door
upon wbieb Saneo-vino was e;Kiployed for twenfy years.

470 benedict's wanderings.
In theTreasury are many precious relics, among which
is a piece of tbe dress of our Saviour. The edifice is
further adorned with celebrated works of art, by
Vecchio, Pisano, Jacobello, Massenge, Sansovino, and
the brothers Zuccati.
Of the palaces, whicb are also numerous, the Palazza
Ducale is the most distinguished. It . was built in
the fourteenth century, by Doge Marino Faliero. It
is entered by eight gates, the principal leading to the
Cortile, around whicb are two stories of arcades. A
noble flight of steps, called the Giant's Staircase, leads
up from the Cortile to the Arcade. The arches and
steps are exquisitely inlaid with marble, and busts of
Tintoretto, Lazzaro Moro, Enrico Dandolo, Marco
Polo, and other celebrated Venitians, are placed around
the upper colonade. At the top of these stairs the
doges were crowned.
Beneath tbe Orologio, or clock tower, is tbe entrance
to the Merceria. The Campanile, or beU-tower, is
320 feet high. The Library of St. Mark and¬the
Mint are handsome edifices of Ionic and Doric archi
tecture. But it would be idle for rae to attempt a
description, or even a mention of all tbe beautiful
structures that came under my observation.
Altogether, Venice is a city of wondrous beauty,
but is seen by moonlight to best advantage. To
enjoy this exquisite pleasure I remainecl over an addi-

QUEEN OF THE ADRIATIC.

471

tional night, and the professor, with a resident friend
of his, accompanied me to various points, frora some
of which tbe views were truly magnificent.

VENICE BY MOONLIGHT.

While enjoying one of these views — that frora the
Rialto, perhaps the finest in the city — I observed,
among the people passing to and fro, the police officer
who came into my room the night of my arrival in
Genoa. Suspicious of bis presence, I turned quickly
to tbe professor, but when I looked again he had
disappeared.

CHAPTER XV.

FROM THE SEA.

AVING reached the limit of my excursion,
)m|||| ana beheld the beauties of tbe most remarka-
%^- ^M ble city in tbe world, I resumed my wander
ings, turning my face again in the direction of Genoa,
where I hoped to see, or at least hear from, my ab-^
sent friend, tbe Bachelor.
Across the peninsula, from Venice to Leghorn, is
one of the pleasantest trips in Italy ; the country
being fertile and highly cultivated, and the cities
large and exceedingly interesting, especially Flor
ence, in which I spent three as delightful days as any
I enjoyed in Italy.
The first place in which I stopped was Ferrara, a
celebrated city, capital of the province of the same
name, situated in a fertile plain, not far from the
north branch of the Po. It is encircled by a wall
seven miles in length, and is defended by a citadel
regularly fortified, while in tbe centre of tbe city is a

FROM th!e sSia. 473
castle, flanked with towers, and stirrounded Witb wet
ditches, formerly the residence of the doges.
No place that I visited in Italy, presents so many
signs of decay as Ferrara. I passed through streets
almost wholly unused, and over pavements grown up
-with grass and weeds. Many houses were deserted
and dilapidated, and some of the noblest palaces were
destitute of doors and windows. Tbe population is
scarcely a fourth of what it was under the line of
Este. Nevertheless, there are numerous traces of its
former grandeur ; a vast cathedral and many other
churches, in most of whicb are valuable works of art;
a theatre, one of the finest in tbe Papal States ; a
public gallery of paintings ; and a public library,
containing 80,000 volumes and 900 manuscripts.
In the library is the tomb of Ariosto ; also, his
chair, inkstand, and some of his hand--writing. The
library also contains the original manuscript of Tasso's
Gerusalemme Liberata and Guarini's Pastor Fido.
Next to these objects, those in which I felt the
deepest interest were the Casa degli Ariosto, in whicb
the poet was educated ; the Casa d' Ariosto, in which
he Uved during his later years ; the Casa Guarini, in
which tbe author of the Pastor Fido resided ; and
the ceU in the hospital of Sant' Anna, in which Tasso
was imprisoned.

474 benedict's wanderings.
A much larger city, and in a much higher state of
preservation, though one of the oldest in Italy, is
Bologna, in the state of Emilia. It was founded by
tbe Etruscans, conquered by the Roraans before
Christ, declared a free city by Charlemagne, incorpo
rated into the Cisalpine government by France, and
attached finally to t'ne Kingdom of Italy.
It is celebrated as a center of instruction. Its uni
versity, founded in 1119, is the oldest on the penin
sula, and perhaps the oldest in the world. In 1216,
the number of students amounted to ten thousand,
but of late years to less than six hundred. It con
tains two libraries, one of 150,000 volumes, and tbe
otber of 80,000 volumes and 4000 manuscripts.
Tbe convents and churches are very numerous ;
there being of the former thirty-five for raonks and
thirty-eight for nuns, and of the latter about seventy-
five, or, including the chapels of the convents, a
hundred and fifty. The Cathedral, a fine edifice of
the seventeenth century, contains a fresco, represent
ing tbe Anunciation, the last work of Lodo-vico
Caracci. San Petronio, the largest and finest in the
city, is remarkable as containing the miridian line of
Cassini traced on the floor, and also as being the place
where the Pope crowned Charles V. in Italy.
The other principal edifices are tbe public and pri
vate palaces, register, chamber of commerce, bospitals.

FROM THE eBA. 475
academies, and theatres ; all of which are enriched
witb paintings and sculpture by the leading artists.
There are two leaning towers, Asinelli, which is tbe
loftiest in Italy, from tbe top of whicb (the finest
view I ever enjoyed) may be seen, it is said, one hun
dred and three cities ; and Garisenda — both erected
in tbe early part of tbe twelfth century.
Bologna is celebrated as the birth place of eight
popes, one hundred cardinals, naturalists, anatomists,
astronomers, mathematicians, and the artists Guido,
Domenichino, Albano, Barbieri, and the three Caracci.
It is also celebrated for its sausages.
Between Bologna and Florence we passed through
two fortified towns, each of about twelve thousand
inhabitants — Pistoja and Prato. The former is fa
mous as being the place wbere pistols were invented,
and gives name to the weapon ; and it contains a
monument to the poet Cini, a cathedral and other
churches, a theatre, museum, academy, public libra
ries, convents, and a fine old town ball. Tbe latter
is celebrated as the seat of Cicognini College ; and
contains a noble square, a marble cathedral, a tower
of six stories, bospitals, asylums, and otber edifices.

CHAPTER XVL
TO THE SEA.
[F all the cities I have seen, the most beautiful
is Florence. It is of Roman origin, though
8^^ not as ancient as sorae of the others I have
mentioned. It is surrounded by an old wall, nearly
five miles in circuit, in which there are nine gates. It
is divided into two unequal parts, by the Amo, which,
at that point, is one hundred and fifty yards wide,
and crossed by two suspension and four arched bridges •
With few exceptions, tbe streets are narrow and
well paved -with flagging, but without sidewalks.
The dwellings are handsome, and the palaces are noble
structures ; many of the latter containing valuable
collections of books, paintings and statuary. Tbe
Pitti Palace, formerly the residence of Luca Pitti, at
present occupied by the grand duke, is one of tbe
most magniflcent in Italy. It contains a gallery of
over five hundred paintings.
There are a large number of squares and piazzas,
which add greatly to the beauty of the city. Of

TO THB SEA. 477
these, tbe most celebrated is the Piazza del Granduca,
which is tbe center of public life and business. It is
adorned witb a marble fountain, and a bronze statue
of Cosmo I., by Giovanni di Bologna.
Tbe most celebrated building in the city, is tbe
Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore, remarkable for
its dome, which is the largest in the world. This ed-
fice is of stupendous proportions ; entire length, 501
feet — of transcept, 305 ; width of nave, 129 ; height,
338 ; and cupolo, 138 in diameter. It is grand in its
conception and construction, and served as a model to
Michael Angelo for St. Peter's at Rome. It was de
signed by Arnolfo, and corapleted by Brunelleschi.
The Church of Santa Croce, also a very large edi
fice, is celebrated as containing monuraents to the
raemory of many of the most celebrated men in Italy ;
among whom are Michael Angelo, Alfieri, Dante,
Machiavelli, and Galileo.
Adjoining the Cathedral is the Campanile, designed
by Giotto, a quadrangular tower, 275 feet in height,
-with six bells, reached by a staircase of 413 steps.
It is of black, white and red polished marble, and the
most beautiful structure of its kind in Italy.
But the pride of Florence is tbe Galleria Imperiale
e Reale, in the upper story of the Uffizi, a magnifi
cent building, erected by command of Cosmo I., after
a design by Vasari. In extent and variety, this gal-

478 benedict's wanderings.
lery is one of the finest collections of sculpture and
paintings in tbe world. Among tbe numerous an
tiques in statuary, are tbe celebrated Venus de Medici,
and tbe group of Niobe and her children ; and among
tbe paintings, there are works of Raphael, Titian,
Guido, Correggio, Guercino, and Michael Angelo.
In one of the museums, is a white marble statue to
Galileo, bis instruments, and one of his fingers, pre
served iu a glass case ; bis manuscripts are preserved
in tbe private library of tbe grand duke. In the Pa
lazza Buonaratti, the dwelling of Michael Angelo,
are his raanuscripts, sword, canes, and a portrait of
himself. Of tbe illustrious men born in this city, tbe best
known are Dante, Petrarch, Boccaccio, Guicciardini,
Benvenuto Celini, Leonardo da Vinci, Amerigo Ves
pucci, Andrea del Sarto, and Lorenzo d' Medici,
Some include Michael Angelo and Galileo, while oth
ers credit tbe birth of the former to Chiusi, and of
tbe latter to Pisa,
The last mentioned plaoe, capital of tbe province
of Pisa, is situated in a fertile plain, on tbe banks of
tbe Amo, six miles from the sea. It is about five
miles in circumferenoe, and surrounded by a wall,
now broken and of Uttle use as a fortification. It is
irregularly laid out, but bas tbe advantage of wide,
straight streets, excellently paved. Tbe river trav-

480 benedict's wanderings.
erses the city in tbe form of a cresent, and divides it
into two nearly equal parts, which are connected
by four beautiful bridges, while on eacb side is a fine
quay, used as a promenade.
The principal attractions of this city, are the Ca
thedral, Baptistery, Campanile, and Campo Santo,
all of which are within view at the same time. The
Cathedral is in the style of architecture that prevailed
in the eleventh century. H is 300 feet long, 107
wide, and 120 high. It contains three magnificent
bronze doors, by Giovanni di Bologna, one of which
represents the Virgin from her birth. It also con
tains statues by Giovanni di Pisi, and paintings by
Andrea del Sarto and other eminent masters.
Tbe Baptistery is an octagon of white marble, 150
feet in diameter, and 160 feet in height. It was fin
ished about tbe middle of the twelfth century, when
tbe city was so populous, that a voluntary contribu
tion of one florin from each family sufficed to pay the
expense of its erection. At that time it is said the
population was 150,000 ; it is now less than 20,000.
Having seen tbe leaning towers of Bologna — tbe
Asinelli four, and the Garisenda eight feet from a
perpendicular line — I was less surprised wben I came
to view tbe Campanile of Pisa, though the top over
hangs the base thirteen feet. It is built of white
marble, and is adorned witb 207 colurans of marble

To THE SEA. 481
and granite. It is 190 feet high, and is ascended by
295 steps. Writers differ in opinion as to whether
this tower was originally perpendicular. However
the fact may be, it has been in this leaning position
for over six centuries.
Tbe Campo Santo is an ancient burial ground, and
tbe most beautiful edifice in the city. It is a vast
rectangle, surrounded by sixty-two light and elegant
arcades, composed of white marble. These arcades
are built about a mound of earth, brought by Arch
bishop Lanfranchi from Mount Calvary in the twelfth
century, and formerly used as a mausoleum. It con
tains many remarkable raonuments and celebrated
paintings. Six hundred ancient families of Pisa and
many Ulustrious characters of different countries, are
said to be interred in this cemetery.

CHAPTER XVIL

LEGHORN LADIES.

|HERE were a thousand things of interest in
R tbe cities through which I passed, worthy of
^^§ mention in a volume of this character, which
I am obliged to omit for want of space. I state tbe
fact that it may not be supposed they have escaped
my notice, or have been regarded as too insignificant
for a place in these pages.
Arrived in Leghorn, the professor and I went first
to the Hotel de Nord, wbere we dined. In this hotel
is a table d' hdte, which I usually prefer. On this
occasion it enabled me to hear my mother tongue
spoken on both sides of me ; and though the people
were all strangers, I felt less like one myself than at
any time since the desertion of Bachelor.
One voice particularly attracted my attention. It
sounded familiar, and yet I was unable to call it dis
tinctly to recollection. It was that of a woman, who
sat on tbe same side of the table, a short distance
above me, and kept up a lively conversation with her

LEGHORN LADIES. 483
companion, who was also a lady. I managed to catch
a glimpse of her countenance, and though it resem
bled some one I bad seen, I was more completely
puzzled. Eacb time she spoke, her voice grew more and more
familiar ; but still I was unable to associate it with
any person, until the plates were removed and desert
served. Taking a bunch of grapes in her hand, she
addressed her companion the following connundrum —
" What sort of monkeys grow on vines ?"
I knew ber then ; it was the blind lady, who had
introduced the connundruras on board the Columbia.
Tbe operation of the English occulist had been suc
cessful, for she had recovered ber sight, which was
the reason I had failed to recognize her.
Her companion — not the one whom she bad on the
Columbia, but a young and pretty girl — laughed
gaily at tbe connundrum, but gave it up. Said the
blind lady, or she who had been blind — " Gra-apes
(grapes)." I sent her ray card, and she made room for me by
ber side, and introduced me to ber companion, who
was ber neice. But that she might be certain of the
acquaintance of one she bad never seen, she closed
ber eyes while I spoke, and then said : " Yes, I re
member. You excelled in connundrums. The one
yoti got off at tbe expense of your friend was capital.

484 benedict's wanderings.
I have repeated it many times. By tbe way, wherje
is your friend ?"
Such was the beginning of a very pleasant conver
sation, in which our acquaintances of the Columbia
were the principal theme. Since our separation she
had met Mrs. Marshall at one time and Mrs. Barring
ton at another, and both had kept me in kind re
raerabrance. On her voyage to Italy, she had been
accorapanied by — " Who do you suppose ?" said she.
I bad not the least idea, but guessed — " Tbe winsome
widow." "No," said she ; " the ship's beauty."
I was pleased to learn that William Stewart had
extended his bridal tour to Italy ; it would afford me
another opportunity to meet his beautiful bride.
Tbey were in Leghorn tbe day before, and were then
in Naples, where they purposed to spend two or three
weeks, and as many more in Sicily.
In turn, I told Mrs. Murray — sucb was the name
of the lady — all I knew concerning " the colleen
bawn" and her rival lovers. She seemed very, much
interested, and expressed the hope that my country
man might carry off the prize.
After the lapse of half an hour, Mrs. Murray was
obliged to join some friends, witb whom she and ber
niece were to spend tbe evening ; but she expressed
tbe hope, as they would proceed to Genoa, that I
sbould remain over a day and bear tbem company.

LEGflO&N laDies. 485
The professor consented, on condition that I would
spend a portion of the time with him, at the house
of his friend, Signor Vincent Liotto. I accepted the
terms, and should bad the gentleraan mentioned been
a stranger ; but, fortunately for me, he was an ao-
quaintance. Signor Liotto, his wife and son, were among my
fellow passengers from Glasgow to Leghorn ; and be
ing acquaintances of Count di LavareUo, I had
been introduced to them on board the Sidonia. But
as I was then ignorant of the Italian language, our
social intercourse was constrained and limited.
At the house of Signer Liotto, I met the sister of
bis wife, Signora Cesina Sanzitoto, whose husband
bad fallen in tbe service of Garabaldi. She was
young to be a widow — not raore than one-and-twenty;
but time bad softened her sorrow, and her spirits had
recovered their buoyancy. In the accomplishments
of mind and manners, she reserabled her sister, Sig
nora Liotto, but was younger in appearance, and per
haps gayer in disposition. Withal, she was exceed
ingly pretty and attractive.
Tbe evening spent at the house of Signor Liotto, a
very pleasant one, was chiefly devoted to conversa
tion and music, in both of which the sisters excelled.
Before the professor and I took our leave, an excur
sion to the monastery of Monte Nero was arranged

486 benedict's wanderings.
for tbe next day. It was proposed by Signor Liotto,
but I suspect that it was prompted by bis pretty
sister-in-law. The excursion was not only a success, but a more
considerable affair than I anticipated. It was enjoyed
hy about twenty people, all friends of Signora San
zitoto. One of these was an officer of tbe Austrian
army. Captain Burnside, a cousin of our General
Burnside. He was a native of Italy, but proud of
his distinguished' relation. Perhaps it was on that
account, but he manifested a considerable liking fbr
my society, and not only -wrote his address in my
pocket-boob thus : " Alessander de Burnside, Esq.,
Cavalier Capitan in Ussar Regiment, Ungar, Leg-
born," but at parting, gave me a beautiful pencil as
a memento. Returning from the excursion, we all went to the
bouse of Signora Sanzitoto, where we spent tbe even
ing, much as the previous one bad been spent, but
with a greater degree of freedom, having become bet
ter acquainted. As tbe stranger of the occasion, I
was especially favored with the attentions of Signora
Sanzitota, who did every thing in her power to make
it pleasant for me ; and for her kindness I sball ever
hold her in grateful remembrance.

CHAPTER XVIII.
AN ADVENTURE.
HOUGH very sorry to leave my pleasant ac-
^ quaintances, I was glad to get away from Leg-
^^» born. Except Messina, and I ara not quite
certain that I sbould raake tbe exception, Leghorn is
more thoroughly infested witb beggars than any city
I T^sited in Italy. For the opposite reason, Genoa is
tbe pleasantest place for tbe sojourn of a traveUer.
Inthe streets of this city, there are no beggars ; they
are supported by a tax upon the citizens, in an asy
lum capable of receiving 22,000 inmates.
Tbe professor was glad to get back to bis house in
the Piazza Ponte, for he prefei-red quietude. I, too,
was glad, for I needed rest, not yet having recovered
sufficient strength for an excursion of such extent.
As to resuming rny wanderings, the professor per
emptorily forbid it for a fortnight, though he allowed
me the honor that is sometimes accorded to distin
guished strangers — the freedom of the city.
On tbe table of my apartment, I found a pyramid

488 benedict's -wanderings.
of letters, whicb were entitled to my first attention.
In tbe contents of two or three of tbem, tbe reader
wiU be interested. The first I read was from my
wife — hers always was the first ; but it contained in
formation that distressed me — my business was all
going -wrong in my absence. I bad entrusted it to
what I supposed a safe and skillful management ; but
it seldom happens that a lawyer's business, however
weU conducted by another, gives entire satisfaction to
his clients.
There was a letter from Bachelor, nearly a month
old, appointing to meet me at Trieste, whence he pro
posed to visit Vienna, Berlin, Hamburg, and other
northern cities ; and another, of more recent date,
informing me that be was on his return, and should
endeavor to be in Genoa in a fortnight from that
time, when, if I had not despatched bim before, he
should take pleasure in shooting Capitano Leonaldi.
There was also a letter from Musgrave, who wrote
to thank me for the information whicb had enabled
him to find the " colleen bawn." But though it bad
assured bis happiness in a measure, it had also in
volved him in difficulty. " I wish you were here to
help me," he wrote. "As it is, I am one against
three ; for I have to inform you that Father McQuin
lan joined our party a few days ago, and is exerting
himself for tbe honor of Londonderry. Thus far.

AN ADVENTURE. 489
however, I bave held my own, thanks to ' the fine
ould Irish gintleman' of Downpatrick, by whose ad-
¦vice I made sure to kiss the true Blarney Stone."
Among a number of other letters, of no consequence
to the reader, was one in a perfumed envelope, -with
out postmark, addressed " To the American Gentle
man, care of Professor di LavareUo, No. 14 Piazza
Ponte.' ' Before I broke the seal, I felt certain that
it Was frora Lauretta Leonaldi ; perhaps I discerned
a resemblance in the handwriting. There was no sig
nature, but the contents rendered any unnecessary :
" On your return to Genoa, of which I shall be ad
vised, go to tbe Madonnetta, in the morning at ten,
and be circumspect."
'¦ Men at some time are masters of tlieir fates ;"
but they are not at some otber time, which is wben
tbey are under the spell of the enchantress — " woman,
lovely woman !" With this letter in my hand, I was
no longer master of my fate ; come what would, I
resolved to visit the Madonnetta. To avoid any sus
picion of my purpose, however, I spent the afternoon
in the Corso, witb Carlo and bis sisters, and the even
ing witb Professor di LavareUo, in bis apartments.
The next morning, a little before ten o'clock, I
stood in front of the Madonnetta, a small cbui^ch, but
celebrated as containing some excellent paintings. I
looked about me, but saw no one, except a letter-

490

BBNEBIOT'S WANDERINGS.

writer, a very important person in all parts of Italy,
who was inditing an epistle for a young girl, to ber
absent lover. I crossed the street and walked close
to them, but there was
nothing suspicious in tbeir
appearance. It was an
incident of very frequent
occurrence, which, at any
otber time, I sbould not
have noticed.
Entering tbe church,
E empty at the time, I em
braced the opportunity to
enjoy the pictures, one of
whicb, tbe Assumption of
tbe Virgin, is attributed to Raphael. It bangs in the
sacristy, whicb, finding the door open, I entered with
out ceremony, and was soon lost in admiration. How
long I remained in this condition I know not, but I
was recalled to consciousness by tbe entrance of a
monk, who passed through the room, and disappeared
throu^ a small door on tbe opposite side.
Returning to fbe nave, I glanced aroimd, but saw
no one. I waited a few minutes, but no one came.
Then I walked up and down the aisle, leisurely at
first, but after a time anxiously, for on looking at my
wa^toh, I ftyond it was nearly noon. " Perhaps the

THE LETTER WRITER.

AN ADVENTURE.

491

lovely Lauretta is not yet aware of my return?"
Consoling myself with this thought, I left tbe church,
resolved to come again on the morrow. The rest of
the day was spent as the day before had been, witb
Carlo and his pretty sisters and tbe professor.
The next morning I repaired again to the church
of the Madonnetta, leaving the piazza at an early
hour, in an opposite direction. To make certain that
I was not followed, I passed out at one of tbe gates,
and entered the suburbs. Keeping the wall in sight,
I walked on slowly for nearly an hour, passing two or
three entrances. Not far frora the one nearest the
church,in front ofa cottage,
I saw a monk holding a girl
by tbe hand,and apparently
engaged in giving her advice
My course led me near
to wbere they were stand
ing, and as I passed I
glanced at them. Some
thing in the look of the
priest arrested my atten-
MONK AN0 MAID. tiou. I lookcd agaiu, but
be was intent upon his duty, with nothing unusual
in bis appearance.
Passing through tbe gate, I took the shortest course
to tbe Madonnetta, which I entered -without pausing

492 benedict's wanderings.
to look behind me, for as I turned into tbe street, I
saw a woman ascending tbe steps of tbe cburcb.
When I reached the main aisle, she was kneeling in
front of the altar ; observing which I paused, that I
might not disturb her devotions. But my footstep
attracting her attention, she immediately arose and
walked toward me. She was veiled, and I was uncer
tain whether it was Signora Leonaldi, until she whis
pered in my ear, as she glided swiftly by me — " We
are watched ! "
I turned about suddenly, and looked after ber re
treating form. She passed quickly to the door, and
at tbe same time a monk walked slowly down a side
aisle. In a moment, she bad disappeared, and then I
looked at the priest, whose bead was bent toward the
ground. Though bis face was partially concealed, I
recognized him at once as the one I had seen near tbe
gate in conversation witb tbe girl ; and before be bad
passed from -view, as tbe one who bad, tbe day before,
passed through tbe sacristy, while I was contempla
ting tbe Assumption of tbe Virgin.

CHAPTER XIX.

A DINNER PARTY.

^SgjiURING the remainder of my stay in Genoa,
S^i| Professor di LavareUo did everything in his
power to make it pleasant for me. Walks and
drives, calls and visits, composed an interesting por
tion of tbe enjoyment. Among the pleasures of that
time was a visit to the magnificent villa of the Mar
quis Pallavicini, whose fabulous wealth is there dis
played in the utmost profusion. A partial description
of this place is contained in tbe introduction to the
translation of The Castle of the Three Mysteries,
from whicb I extract tbe following :
" It would be almost impossible to adequately describe the
wonders and beauties which every where greet the eye. In the
park are immense laurel trees and Indian pines ; and the choicest
tropical trees, plants.and flowers are seen in all directions. Beau
tiful summer houses, temples, cascades and obelisks are taste
fully arranged throughout lhe grounds. By an ingenious con
trivance of secret springs, jets of water can be thrown upon the
head of the unsuspecting visitor, who, in endeavoring to escape
from one, is met full in the face by another. If he but touch a
flower or shrub, or take a seat in an inviting chair, he is liable to
become the victim of a miniature deluge, which, on the whole,
tends to create a pleasant excitement and much real jolity."

494 benedict's wanderings.
Another of these pleasures was a dinner party,
given by Signor Cavalieri, a brother-in-law of tbe pro
fessor, at his palace in tbe viUage of Albaro, a
short distance from the city. Signor Cavallo was
a la-wyer, and practiced at the bar in the courts of
Genoa, but like many otber gentlemen of wealth,
lived a short distance in the country. His palace
stood near the house occupied by Dickens, during bis
stay in Italy.
Most of the guests went out in the afternoon, in
carriages ; the count having one to himself and fam
ily, and the professor and I one to ourselves. We
reached the country through the oldest gate in the
city ; " supposed to have been erected," said the pro
fessor, " in the latter part of the tenth century." The
road to the village was excellent, and the country
beautiful ; the farms neat and well-cultivated, and
the bouses both showy and substantial ; and the pal
aces, here and there in the most eligible situations,
spacious and superb.
The dinner was a grand affair — a most ceremonious
entertainment. The number and variety of the dishes
were marvelous, and every flavor delicious. The
guests were numerous — all people of education ; the
gentlemen agreeable and entertaining, and tbe ladies
beautiful and fascinating.
There were several lawyers present, from whom, as

A DINKER PARTY.

495

a member of tbe fratemity, I received some special
attention. Being an American, I was not neglected

OLD GATE OF GENOA.
by the ladies, who— in every country I bave visited,
as weU as my own— if not partial, are at least not in
different, to foreigners.

496 benedict's t^andeRings.
Tbe lady from whom I received most attention, was
Signora Angelina Rossetti, wife of a Genoese gentle
man much respected for bis wealth and position. She
was greatly admired for her excellencies of mind and
manner, and particularly for her conversational ac
quirements. Though perhaps thirty years of age,
she was very young compared witb her husband, who
was almost an octogenarian. The discrepancy was
too great, and was tbe cause of some unhappiness, to
which I unconsciously contributed.
It happened that Senora Rossetti and myself, when
introduced, were favorably situated for conversation,
in which, as I have already said, she excelled. At
first I was charmed with her grace of manner and
elegance of expression ; but having succeeded in
making herself agreeable, she asked me about ray own
country, in which she professed to be greatly inter
ested. She listened as well as she talked, which is
great praise to any one ; and led on by her inquiries,
I let ray tongue run for her gratification, without ob
serving that her antique spouse was becoming furiously
angry. When I did observe it, however, I regret to say
that I deliberately continued. I should have re
frained bad there been any thing in our behavior to
justify his anger in the first instance ; but I was pro
voked that he should allow his jealousy to be observed.

a dinner party. 497
But I soon discovered that it was not safe to coquette
with even an old man's wife. Signor Rossetti sent a
friend to me, to inquire what weapons I preferred, and
at what tirae and place it would suit my convenience
to leave this world.
I went immediately in quest of Professor di Lav
areUo, through whom I offered what I conceived to
be a suitable apology — "' my attentions were wholly
the result of my admiration of his wife's superior ac
quirements ; and though I should deprive myself of
a very great pleasure, if it would gratify Signor Ros
setti, I should never again notice his wife by look or
action." Tbe effect was much better than I antici
pated ; the incensed husband not only withdrew bis
challenge, but apologized for his anger. I was care
ful however, during the rest of the evening, not to
excite his jealousy again, by any marked attention to
his wife. I met her on the Corso raany tiraes after
wards, and our casual acquaintance of that evening,
ripened into a close and pleasant friendship.
It was late wben we left tbe village, and after mid
night when we reached the city. Being moonlight
and delightful weather, tbe count and professor, Sig
nor Pilliona and son, and myself, returned on foot, for
amusement. Signor Pilliona was a Nicean merchant,
who accompanied the professor and myself on oiir re-

498 benedict's wanderings.
tura from Nice. He and his son were both exceUent
gentlemen, in whose society I spent many agreeable
hours during my stay in Genoa.
On tbe way back, many things excited our atten
tion, but in particular the coUection of cigar stumps
at and after midnight. As we entered the city, stump
hunters might be seen in neariy every thoroughfare,
each with a lantern, which
he held close to the ground,
to avoid unnecessary stoop
ing. The quantity of
stumps gathered in this
manner, during the course
of a sennight, is enormous.
 I believe they are used as
^^g filling for other cigars.
- ^^B Nearer the Piazza Ponte,
^" we met a raonk — we bad
ciGAR-sTukp HUNTER. mct a numbcr before, and
passed them without notice-^but this was the one I
bad seen at tbe Madonnetta. I was a little in the
rear of tbe company, and moved by a sudden impulse,
or it may have been a suspicion, I stopped directly in
front of bim, and looked him full in the face. He
stopped as suddenly, and placed himself in a posture
of defence, drsnring from underneath bis gown a gUt
tering stiUetto ; not, I think, with a view of inflict-

A diunbr party. 499
ing injury upon me, but, if it became necessary, for
his own personal protection.
" ViUain !" I exclaimed, snatching a pistol from
my breast-pocket, and raising it in a menacing man
ner. Tbe exclamation arrested my corapanions, who
turned about just as tbe raonk darted aside into the
shadow of the bouses.
" Good God ! " exclaimed the merchant, seeing
rae witb a pistol, and the monk running as if for his
Ufe. To tbe professor I remarked quietly, as I replaced
tbe weapon," I was merely recognizing a police officer
in disguise."
Perceiving that my explanation was understood by
tbe professor, the merchant made no further observa
tion. He comprehended that it was a mystery, and
was satisfied that it bad not resulted in a tragedy.

CHAPTER XX.

ANOTHER ADVENTURE.

IJEFORE our excursion through the Lombardo-
Venetian Kingdom, Professor di LavareUo bad
promised me some fine shooting on his fa'rm
near Recco, about thirty miles south of Genoa. As
we were about to separate that night, he proposed
that we should begin our sport tbe following day,
as my sojourn in that part of Italy was then Umited.
Though bis object was to draw me away from danger,
I was glad of the proposition for another reason — I
desired a change of scenery and situation, in tbe hope
that it might benefit my health. From Sorri, where
we left tbe rail way, to San PaUena, tbe professor's
country seat, was about one mUe by tbe carriage way,
and perhaps a furlong less by the foot-path. As no
tice of our coming had not been received, there was
no carriage for us on our arrival, so we proceeded on
foot by tbe path, reaching tbe bouse just in time for
lunch. San PaUena is beautifully situated on tbe mountain

ANOTHER ADVENTURE. 501
side, and commands a magnificent view of tbe sea
and intermediate country. The bouse is a palace,
containing every desirable luxury. The library was
large, and composed of choice collections. The paint
ings and statuary were gems of art. Tbe farm was
productive, and on it grew nearly every kind of fruit
and nut, fit for food.
Tbe professor bunted witb me the first day, and
after that employed bis time in looking to tbe in
terests of tbe farm. I am not an expert in sports
manship, but tbe game was abundant, and I had the
good fortune to bring in eacb day, birds enough to
save my reputation. So a week passed.
The day before we returned — ^it was Sunday — I
walked out to a prominent rock, a short distance from
tbe bouse, to enjoy a last look at the lovely landscape.
It was a pleasant morning, and for an bour or more I
mused, witb my face toward tbe sea, which separated
me from my family and friends. The spirit of sad
ness settled upon me, and turning from tbe prospect,
I walked listlessly forward, scarcely conscious of the
direction. In this manner, I descended tbe rock, and
entered a ra-vine through which tbe path led to tbe
bouse. I bad proceeded but a short distance, when I
was entirely concealed from observation.
At. that moment, a man leaped from behind a crag,
and seized me by the throat. He was a 'large man,

502 benedict's wanderings.
of great muscular power, and his face had a demoni
acal expression. In his band was a long poniard,
with whicb be struck a deathful blow at my breast.
But the likeness of my wife and children, enclosed in
a metal case, whieh I carried aU tbe while in my
breast poeket, broke the blow and the dagger at the
same time.
Tbe disappointment of the assassin wns evinced by
a most diabolical exclamation, and in his anger he
burled tbe broken weapon against the crag behind
which be had been concealed. Then be drew from
the leg of bis boot, a long knife, not unlike tbe sword
of a sergeant, and aimed a blow at my bead.
Meanwhile, I tried to get my pistol, but could not,
so powerful was the pressure of bis arm upon my
breast. I endeavored to free myself from his grasp,
which tightened as my efforts increased, until I was
almost unconscious. I saw tbe gUttering blade raised
above my bead ; but before the blow could fall, there
was the sharp report of a pistol, and the ruffian fell
senseless at my feet, desperately wounded. I tumed
to see who was my deliverer. To my infinite sur
prise, there stood Tom Tackle, on the edge of tbe ra
vine, witb a broad smile on his countenance. As be
informed me afterwards, on being reloased from Glas
gow, he had gone to the Broomielaw, but instead of
returning to America as be bad promised, shipped as

ANOTHER ADVENTURE. 303
a sailor to tbe Mediterranean. At Recco be had de
serted the ship, and was skulking in the neighborhood
for a day or two, until its disappearance.
I sent Tom to the bouse for assistance, and in a
few minutes the professor carae, with several men and
a stretcher. The wounded man was carried to tbe
bouse, where his wounds were dressed. Tbe bullet
bad passed through his right arm, «battering the
bone above tbe elbow, and lodged in his left breast.
I supposed the man a comraon robber, or a hired
assassin, but he was neither. After the wounds were
dressed, and tbe pain had somewhat subsided, the
professor said to him — " You had better followed my
advice." The wounded man made no reply, but
after a few moments said — " Doctor, may I send for
my wife?" "Ihave already sent for her," replied
tbe professor. Silence ensued.
The noon train brought to Sorri, the wife of the
wounded man, Signora Lauretta Leonaldi, and tbe
professor's carriage conveyed her to San Pallena. As
she entered the room where ber husband lay on a
sofa, be extended his left hand, which she seized and
pressed to ber lips ; then dropping on her knees, she
passed ber arm around his neck, and buried her beau
tiful face in his busby whiskers. ' In- this condition
tbey were left to theraselves.
An hour afterwards the professor proposed our re-

504 benedict's wanderings.
tum to the city; " Now that tbey are reconciled,"
be said," " it is better that we sbould be away. Not,"
be added, " that Lauretta would take any notice of
us," (meaning me) " but a jealous man is never quite
at bis ease while there is another man in tbe same
neighborhood." In view of all the circumstances, I was at a loss to
understand tbe conduct of Signora Leonaldi, partic
ularly the anxiety she manifested to obtain a secret
interview at tbe Madonnetta.
" It is a plain case," replied tbe professor, " Le
onaldi is jealous, his wife fond of admiration. A
jealous man is vindictive, a vain woman is indiscreet.
Lauretta flirted witb your friend, the Bachelor, and
Leonaldi resolved to have revenge. Under tbe im
pression that you were tbe offender, be bas kept you
under constant espionage. His wife sought a private
interview, that she might put you on your guard.
Where there is suspicion, nothing escapes tbe atten
tion. She dropped a note in the Corso, and you
picked it up. She sent you a letter through a mes
senger, and tbe next moming you went to tbe Madon
netta. She passed you in the grand aisle, and
whispered something in your ear. As for tbe rest
bad it not been for your wayward countryman, San
Pallena would contain a corpse instead of an invalid."
Tom. Tackle accompanied us to the city, and took

ANOTHER ADVENTURE. 505
charge of a large basket of choice figs, which tbe pro
fessor bad put up for me. In Genoa, as in some otber
cities of Italy, many things brought within tbe walls
are subject to a municipal tax ; among these are
chickens, but not figs. Thinking to have a little
sport, I leaned over my basket, which was closely
covered, and chirped like a chicken. Instantly a
customs' officer "went" for tbe basket, cut off the
cover, and exposed tbe contents — figs. There was a
burst of laughter from the bystanders; and many
jeering remarks,« which so enraged the officer, that be
was about to " go" for me, wben the professor inter
posed. Tbe next morning I was in the newspaper ;
but there was no allusion in print to the shooting of
Leonaldi.

CHAPTER XXI.

NEAPOLIS.

^d

|ACHELOR arrived at Genoa, very unexpect
edly to me, the day before our departure ;
with tbe intention, he said, of shooting Le
onaldi ; but, I think, be was quite satisfied that Tom
Tackle had saved hira the trouble. As for Tom, he
accompanied us to Naples, wbere be placed himself —
having no passport — under the care of the American
Consul, to be shipped to New York, wbere be resided.
My stay in Genoa had been so long and so pleasant,
that I left my friends there with much regret ; par
ticularly Professor di LavareUo, one of the most esti
mable gentlemen I ever met, and one to whom I am
"indebted for a thousand acts of kindness. He ac
companied me to the ship, and bad me promise to
write bim on my return to America ; and the corres
pondence so commenced, has continued to this day.
Our voyage from Genoa to Naples, was exceedingly
pleasant, there being on board the vessel, beside
Bachelor, tbe prince of traveling companions, the

ifEAPOLis. 507
wife of the New Zealand governor, Mrs. Murray, and
ber beautiful niece. To the latter Bachelor turned as
naturally as the needle to the pole, and fairly fright
ened her with his blandishraents. But her aunt, who
had seen his devotion to Miss Small and "the ship's
beauty" on board the Columbia — mentally, of course,
for she was otherwise blind at the tirae — took good
care that she should not becorae enaraored.
- Sorae delay before starting, occasioned me a very
great disappointment. Our vessel was to have stopped
at Civita Vecchia, long enough to afford such as
wished, a flying excursion to Rorae ; but for want of
time, no stop was made, though the captain, by way
of compromise, pointed out to us in the distance,
what be called the dome of St. Peter's. I regretted
it more afterwards, when ray then unexpected return
bome deprived me of the pleasure of visiting the
papal city.
The Bay of Naples, said to be the finest in tbe
world, all things considered, is truly magnificent. It
is of grand dimensions, being two-and-twenty .miles
in length, and ten in width. It is described by an
cient writers as being much larger ; and larger it raust
bave been, if we may judge of its extent by the situ
ation of Pompeii, as represented on a map said to be
nineteen bunared years old ; and by the situation of
two lighthouses, both of which are now in the heart

508

benedict's wanderings.

of Naples. In this map, Pompeu is represented as
being on tbe shore, whereas in fact it is now a
long distance from tbe sea. Tbe lighthouses stood,
one on tbe site of tbe Gesu Nuovo, and tbe otber

^B O liiitemipn
V/uaviae ^

AtcUaf \ ^ . 6^
¦-' / ' '•¦ C-^"^^-^"^^ \

BAT OP NAPLES, B. C.
behind tbe church of San Onofrio de' Vecchi, wbere
its ruins are stiU visible.
Tbe view of Naples, as it is approached from tbe
sea — the best distant prospect of tbe city — ^is really
beautiful beyond description ; all tbe bouses being
visible, rising in tbe form of an amphitheatre, crowned
by the sombre castle of St. Elmo, one of tbe defences

NEAPOLIS. 509
of the city. It extends along tbe shore of tbe bay,
and up tbe accUvities of tbe adjacent mountains,
three miles one way and half as much tbe otber, be
ing about nine miles in circumference. It is the most
populous city in Italy, containing half a million in
habitants. The friends of Mrs. Murray were at the Louvre,
whither Bachelor and I went also, tbe more willingly
as it contained an excellent table d' bote, and fronted
on tbe public promenade.
In tbe evening, we drove from tbe Castello del
Oro, another fortification for tbe defence of the city,
to tbe Grotto of Pausolipo, at tbe entrance of which
is tbe tomb of Virgil. The Spiaggia, as is custom
ary at that time of day, was full of equipages. As
nobody walks in Naples who is able to ride, the va
riety of vehicles, from tbe elegant to the grotesque,
was as great as we are accustomed to see in tbe an
nual parade of the Governor of Connecticut, on the
day of inauguration.
The fashionable ladies promenade on the house
tops, which are fiat, and ornamented with trees and
flowers. Great pains are bestowed on their personal
charms, before they appear in public, that they may
attract tbe attention of tbe opposite sex. In this re
spect, bow unlike the ladies of America !
Jt must Jiot be supposed, bowey^r, that Jiabody
walks because so many ride ; there are enough who

510

benedict's wanderings.

can not afford any means of locomotion, except sucb
as nature supplied. These, mostly the poorer classes,
walk on the quays, a number of which are beautiful
promenades. But among them are many good musi
cians, sorae of whora carry their instruraents with
thera, for the gratification of their associates. In
particular, I noticed one, who was playing for his
sweetheart, who sat at his feet, apparently entranced.
They were bare-footed,
and otherwise poorly
clad, but evidently they
understood and appre
ciated rausic.
During our drive, we
had a fine opportunity
to notice the people and
their manners, particu
larly the ludicrous side
of their characters. To
avoid it was impossible in the society of Mrs. Murray,
who saw something comical in every trifling incident.
FUst she called our attention to the operations of a
brace of juvenile pickpockets, nearly in front of our
hotel. To a gentleman who was reading a paper, one
applied for alms, thereby securing his attention, while
the other divested him of his pocket-handkerchiefs.
Of course there is not in all Europe a pleasanter

LOVE making.

neapolis.

511

THE PICKPOCKETS.

drive than that along the Spiaggia, on an autumnal
afternoon. On one band is tbe bay, of whicb various
prospects are obtained in
passing ; and on the other,
the city, which presents a
great variety of architect
ural achievements ; while
between tbe Castle and the
Mole, tbe strand is adorned
" with numerous marble stat
ues, some of exquisite work
manship. Near one of these statues,
which we bad stopped to admire, Mrs. Murray pointed
us to what she termed a specimen of ItaUan industry
— a couple of young feUows, who had suspended their
labors for a time, to
win or lose the earn
ings of tbe day.
Tbey were sitting on
a bench, of which
there are many for
the accommodation
of the weary, play
ing cards for stakes, card platers.
as is tbe custom of tbe country.
Returning, we passed through the Strada Toledo,

512 benedict's wanderings.
a grand thoroughfare, extending the whole length of
tbe city, from the Palazza Reale to tbe nortbern boun
dary. This is tbe only street that is not inconven
iently narrow, though most of the others are tolera
bly regular, and very neatly paved with blocks of lava.
There are several squares, irregular and of small
dimensions, the principal of which are the Piazza
Reale and the Piazza di Mercata. The latter, as tbe
name indicates, is the market place, in which we
stopped for a few minutes, to enjoy a look at another
phase of Italian life. Near us was a vender of
cakes, of which be bad sev
eral kinds, displayed in an
open basket, suspended by a
cord about his neck. There
was a dozen other venders in
view, for it is a common em
ployment, largely carried on
*"^ in the streets, like many
Z^ other sorts of business. But
^^^^^^^^^^^ this one in particular attract-
cake pedlar. ed tbe attention of Mrs.
Murray, who saw something ludicrous in bis appear
ance. He was clad after the manner of bis business
competitors, but presented a most lugubrious counte
nance, at which it was impossible to look without
laughing outright.

Neapolis.

513

In contrast with the cake ''pedlar, was one of the
class sometimes called the benefactors of Italy,
tbe wine merchants, who also do their business in tbe
market place and streets. He was a young fellow,
witb naked feet, sleeves rolled above his elbows, and
shirt open at tbe collar,
who walked forward with
a Ught step, a cheerful
countenance, and an eye
quick to discern a cus
tomer. " Before we leave the
- - market," said Mrs. Murray,
"there is one thing more I
wish to see — the blessed
food of Italy."
WINE MERCHANT. " Tbcro it Is before you,"
replied Bachelor, pointing to a stand upon which
was displayed great quantities of macaroni.
" It is not so much tbe food," said Mrs. Murray,
" as the process of eating it, which I desire to see. I
am told that it is very laughable."
" There it is, then," said I, pointing to a vender of
macaroni near the corner of tbe square, who was serving
bis customers. He was standing behind a small table,
lifting from a deep dish into a plate, the long. Umber
tubes ; some of which, though he evinced considera-

514

benedict's wanderings.

ble dexterity, continually sUpped through his fingers.
•There were two customers, one of whom stood at the
vender's elbow, while the other was seated on the
ground. They conveyed the food from the plate to
their mouths, with their fingers, as the vender lifted
it from the dish. Tbe pro
cess is one in whicb much
skill may be exercised.
Sometimes the smooth,
slippery, pipe-stem tube
slips back into the plate,
but it is seldom lost on the
ground. The plate is held
close under the mouth, un
til one end of the tube is
inserted between the lips,
when it is taken in by suction ; tbe highest skill con
sisting in having it disappear at a single suck, with
out allowing the outer end to bit the " innocent nose."
There are people — I meet such every day, at nearly
every comer of the street — who
" Find tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in eveiy thing ;''
but, few, who, like Mrs. Murray, can find in every
thing a source of amusement. Until our drive that
evening, in the Spiaggia and Piazza di Mercata, I
never reaUzed how great must have been the privation
of sight to thaf worthy woman.

MACARONI.

CHAPTER XXII.
THINGS SEEN AND UNSEEN.
iAPLES is called a fortified city, having walls
and otber defences. There are three castles,
¦^ two of which I have mentioned, the third be
ing Castello Nuovo. Perhaps these are well enough
for the purposes intended, but the walls are not of
much use, tbe city having grown beyond tbem to
such an extent, that some of the gates are now almost
in the center.
Though the architecture is not equal to that of
some other cities I -visited, there are a few excellent
edifices. Among the churches, of which there are
three hundred, the most worthy of mention is the
Cathedral, commonly caUed San Gennaro, from the
patron saint of Naples. It is a Tuscan Gothic
structure, erected on the sito of the Temple of
ApoUo. Tbe outside is encrusted with white raarble,
and ornamented with two columns of porphyry. Tbe
inside is supported by upwards of a hundred columns
of Egyptian granite and African marble, taken from
Illi I.

516 benedict's wanderings.
the temples of Neptune and Apollo. It contains the
relics of San Gennaro, (among others, the phials of
bis blood, which, credulous people believe, melts an
nually on a certain day in September), and on this
account is held in high veneration.
Some of the other churches raerit a brief mention.
The most singular of these, is that of Santa Maria
della Pietra, the Mausoleum of the Sangro family,
whicb is decorated with rare marbles, and surrounded
with arches. In every arch is a sarcophagus and
statue of a piince of Sangro, and attached is the
tomb of bis wife, with a statue representing ber most
conspicuous virtue. The most remarkable of these
statues is that of Modesty, a figure underneath a
veil, through which tbe features are clearly discern
able. This church contains two other veiled figures,
the Dead Christ and Vice Convinced, the latter rep
resenting a man struggling to free hiraself frora a net
in whicb be is caught.
Santi Apostoli, originally founded by Constantine
the Great, on the site of the Temple of Mercury, and
rebuilt during tbe seventeenth century, is rich in
frescoes and decorations, and contains the tomb of the
poet Marini. San Doraenico Maggiore contains the
Annunciation and tbe Flagellation, the former attrib
uted to Titian, and the latter to Caravaggio. San
Martini, after designs by Fansaga, is the most splendid

THINGS SEEN AND UNSEEN. 517
and beautiful sacred edifice in the city, and in the
exceUence of its paintings, and the value of its mar
bles and precious stones, may vie, it is said, with any
church in existence. San FilUppo Neri, one of tbe
handsomest, is incrusted, lined, and paved with mar
ble, and the high altar is composed of agate, sar-
donax, jasper, lapis-lazuli, and mother of pearl.
Santa Maria della Sanita, which contains some ex
cellent paintings, leads to the Catacombs, said to be
larger than those of Rome ; but as the persons who
perished during tbe last plague were thrown in here,
I sacrificed curiosity to discretion, and left them un
explored. Of the edifices devoted to secular pursuits, there
are a few fine structures. The Palazza Reale is an
immense building of three stories, each differing from
tbe others in architecture. It contains magnificent
apartments, handsi)mely fumished, and enriched witb
choice paintings ; among which are the Madonna of
Monte Cassino, by Raphael, and Christ disputing
witb tbe Doctors, by Caravaggio.
There are seven theatres, of which San Carlo is
said to be the largest in tbe world. This distinction
is also claimed for the theatre of Milan. Both are
immense structures, but that of Naples excels in mag
nificence. Most of these places, and many others not men-

518 benedict's wanderings.
tioned, I visited alone, as Bachelor bad seen tbem
before his excursion into Germany ; or, to give a still
better reason — ^for some of these objects might be
seen a second time with pleasure — be was just then
particularly devoted to Miss Murray.
It was different when I came to visit the Museo
Internazional. Then I was accompanied, not only
by him, but by Mrs. Murray and niece, and ber
friends — her brother, wife and daughter, and another
gentleman and wife, more distant relations — alto
gether, a very pleasant party.
Originally the building, called tbe Palazzo degU
Studii Publici, was occupied as a university ; but
this institution being removed to the Convent of Gesu
Vecchio, it was converted into a national museum,
and enriched with antiquities found at Capua,' Pom
peii, Herculaneum, and the smaUer cities hurried
beneath tbe eruptions of Vesuvius.
It would be impossible, in less space than a vol
ume, to describe the objects in this museum ; their
names alone would constitute a catalogue of many
pages, for in number tbey are thousands. Tbe an
cient frescoes found at Pompeii and Herculaneum
exceed sixteen hundred, and of ancient glass there
are four thousand specimens. There is a coUection
of Mosaics and Mural inscriptions, another of Egyp
tian antiquities, and another of ancient Greek sCulp-

THINGS SEEN AND UNSEEN. 519
tures ; the last occupying three large galleries, and
several cabinets.
In these galleries may be seen busts and statues of
some of tbe most illustrious men of antiquity, of
whom I may mention Herodotus, Homer, Demos
thenes, Cicero, Aristides, Julius Csesar, and Alexan
der the Great. There is a Cabinet of Venuses, in
which the naked figures are disposed, and a secret
cabinet to whicb ladies are not admitted.
We bad reached the Gallery of Bronze Statues,
and were examining its greatest curiosity, the bronze
water-cock, which contains water that has been her-
metrically sealed for eighteen hundred years, when I
was startled by the presence of William Stewart and
his wife — Adonis and Venus in flesh and blood.
Mrs.- Stewart extended ber hand, and with tbe
sweetest of smiles said, " I am very glad to meet
you ;" then turning to Bachelor, she added, " As
glad to see you." But neither she nor Mrs. Murray
recognized, though the latter said, " Your voice is
familiar, but not your face." Mrs. Stewart regarded
ber for a moment, and then replied, " Both your face
and voice are familiar, and yet I can not place you in
my memory." 1 introduced tbem as " the blind lady"
and " the ship's beauty," whereupon they embraced.
Said Mrs. Stewart, " I am so glad you can see ;" and
Mrs. Murray replied, " That I may admire your rare
beauty."

CHAPTER XXIIL

CURIOUS CAVES.

MwPN all my subsequent excursions from Naples, I
gill was accompanied by Mrs. Murray and her
^ &i friends, and William Stewart and his beautiful
bride ; the last of whom was the life of our com
pany. Hitherto, Bachelor and I bad regarded this
lovely woman as siraply one to be adraired because of
her comeliness ; but we soon discovered, when among
the ruins of ancient Italy, that no one in our party
was better versed in Roman history. It was no
longer a marvel that WUliam Stewart had sent bis
brother across tbe ocean to bring her back to " Old
Colia." Four days were spent in our excursion to Psestum,
the ruins of which, next to those of Pompeii, are tbe
raost interesting in Italy. On our way, we stopped
at Sorrento, tbe birth-place of Tasso, and -visited his
house on tbe shore of tbe sea, the caves of Ulysses,
and other curiosities. We also visited the island of
Capri, celebrated in history as the retreat of Tiberias,

curious CAVES. 521
and tbe scene of his orgies. Here, the object of prin
cipal interest/ is tbe Grotto of Nymphs — two caverns,
distinguished as the Green and Blue, and entered
from tbe sea under an arch about three feet above the
water. Owing to the swell of the sea, our first at
tempt to gain admittance was a failure, and the
reraainder of the day was spent in wandering about
the island, among the Roman ruins, and in watching
a small gathering of idle ItaUans playing mora in
front of the hotel. This is a game very common
among tbe people of the peninsula, and consists —
if I have a correct impression of its character — ^in
one of the players opening quickly a certain number
of his fingers, which his competitor, simultaneously,
endeavors to match by opening a corresponding num
ber of fingers and calling out the number in a loud
voice. If the same number of fingers is opened and
named by tbe matching party, he wins ; otherwise be
loses. Like aU the games in that country, it is
played for gain, with an interest that extends even
to the bystanders.
, The next day we were raore fortunate ; our en
trance was easily effected. By itself, the Green
Grotto would be a great curiosity ; by comparison, it
is barely worth a visit. It is otherwise with the
Blue Grotto, which is immense, being 150 feet long
and 100 wide, and of surpassing beauty. As in the

CURIOUS CAVES. 523
other everything is green, so in this everything is —
"Darkly, deeply, beautifully blue.''
It requires some time to accustom the eye to the gor
geous glory of tbe grotto, and meanwhile we sat in
silent wonder, "With the blue above and the blue below."
But wben our admiration of the stalectitic beauties
of tbe grotto was satisfied, I was glad to he again
on " The sea ! the sea! the open sea!
The blue, the fresh, the ever free !"
The grandeur and gloom of tbe ruins of Psestum,
surpass anything of tbe kind I have ever seen. Like
the ruins of Baalbec, they are in the midst of a wild
erness, far removed from the presence of any power
by which they might bave been erected. The prin
cipal ruins are the Basilica, the Forum, the Amphi
theatre, tbe Temple of Vesta, and the Temple of
Neptune ; tbe four sides of the last having a range of
thirty-six pillars, surmounted by an architrave and
frize of the Doric order of architecture.
Our next excursion was in the opposite direction
as far as the ruins of old Cumse, chiefly celebrated for
its -vast number of tombs, in which are found the
remains of three distinct races ; uppermost, the
graves of Romans, underneath these, the tombs of
Greeks, and at the depth of fifty feet from tbe sur
face, sepulchres of an unknown people.

524

benedict's wanderings.

The objects of interest seen on this excursion were
very numerous, though I have space for the mention
of but a few. The Grotto of PausiUpo, elsewhere
mentioned, is merely a tunnel, through which we
passed on our way to Pozzuoli. Anciently, this was
an iraportant city, and its environs were crowded witb
the villas of wealthy Romans. The principal ruins
are the Temple of Jupiter Serapis, the Temple of
the Nymphs, the Teraple of Neptune, the ViUa of
Cicero, and the Amphitheatre in which Nero fought,
and under which St. Gennaro was imprisoned. We

SOLPATERRA.
visited the monastery of Cappucini, in whicb the
latter suffered martyrdom, and saw the stone upon
whicb he was beheaded.
Among tbe objects that most attracted our notice
upon this excursion, was tbe half-extinct volcano of

CURIOUS CAVES. 525
Solfaterra. We passed it on our way to Lake Avernus,
which occupies the crater of an extinct volcano. This
lake is half a mile in diameter, of great depth, and
without an outlet. Anciently, it was believed that
no bird could fly over it without being destroyed, but
its banks are now occupied by gardens and vineyards.
The Sybil's Cave, immortalized by Virgil as the
avenue to the infernal regions, was so dark and dirty
that none of. our party could be induced to enter it.
I can no more than mention the Baths of Nero, over
which it was supposed his villa was situated ; and the
ruins of Baise, a town notorious for its profligacy dur
ing the Roman and Middle Ages. Lake Agnano, the
waters of which are noted for the cure of gout and
rheumatism, like Avernus, occupies the crater of an
extinct volcano, and is half a mile in diameter. Near
it are the Grotto del Cane and the Sulphur baths of
San Germane.

!.,««;;2?=5^5|Ba

CHAPTER XXIV.
AMONG THE RUINS.
JHE last of our excursions was to Vesuvius,
._^^ and the cities of Herculaneum and Pompeii,
^^^ destroyed, A. D. 79. At sorae time, Vesuvius
was a much larger volcano, of which Monte Somma
is a remnant. At present, the height of the erup
tive cone is about 3500 feet. Since the destruction of
the cities mentioned, there have been forty-five known
eruptions. In action, Vesuvius presents a raagnifi
cent spectacle. During the present century there
have been several eruptions, that of 1862 causing im
mense loss of life and property.
Herculaneum was destroyed by torrents of volcanic
mud. In subsequent eruptions, it was covered with
ashes and lava, in some places to the depth of one
hundred and ten feet. In the suburbs of this city,
some distinguished Romans resided. Tbe principal
object of interest, are the remains of an ancient thea
tre, supposed to have accommodated ten thousand
persons.

AMOITG THE RUINS. 527
Pompeii, in A. D. 63, was visited by an earth
quake, which occasioned great destruction. Sixteen
years after, it was overwhelmed by an eruption of
Vesuvius, from the crater of which it is about five
miles distant. For the period of nearly sixteen cen
turies, its locality was unknown, and its existence
almost forgotten. In 1748, some peasants eraployed
in cutting a ditch, discovered the ruins, which soon
became an object of interest and attention. Seven
years afterwards excavations were commenced, and
have been continued to the present time. Over two-
fifths of the city have been uncovered, and thus far
every thing seems to be in a state of extraordinary
preservation. The city was enclosed by walls, twenty feet high,
of the same thickness, faced on both sides witb lava,
and surmounted -with towers. The entrance was by
gates, six of which have been exposed. The streets
are nuraerous, and all through which I passed, were
neatly paved with blocks of lava. Many of them
contained sbops, as appears by the signs, still plainly
visible, and in some instances, by tbe utensils of trade.
More than a hundred private houses have been ex
posed, embracing every variety, from the cottage of
tbe plebeian to tbe mansion of the patrician. Many
of these houses are low — but one story ; yet all of
tbem, so far as I observed, are terraced. A market-

528

BENEDICT S WANDERINGS.

place and many public edifices bave also been discov
ered. Medals, statues, jewels, and nearly every
description of household furniture bave been found

A STREET IN POMPEII.
almost unaltered, and even books and paintings in a
state of partial preservation.
The more important houses, both pubUc and
private, have received names, some of them from
pictures they contained, and some from other circum
stances. The ViUa of Diomedes, one of the most

AMONG THE RUINS, 529
extensive private residences discovered, received its
name from the tomb of M. Arrius Diomedes, on the
opposite side of the way. The House of Adonis is
named from a large painting illustrating Adonis
wounded by a wild boar, and consoled by Venus.
The House of Sallust has an inscription painted on
the outer waU, C. Sallust, M. F. The House of the
Faun, supposed to be the largest and most elegant of
the private bouses, contains a statuette of tbe Dancing
Faun. It was less difficult to find names for the public
edifices, some of which contained intrinsic evidence of
tbeir character. The Amphitheatre is a building of
immense proportions, estimated to accommodate ten
thousand persons. The Barracks, a very large enclos
ure, when first excavated, contained raany marks of
military life, and a nuraber of skeletons, possibly of
prisoners. The Tragic Theatre, capable of contain
ing five thousand spectators, is a good specimen of
tbe ancient theatre. The Basilica, 221 feet long and
80 broad, was tbe judgment hall.
Around the ForUm, whicb occupies an elevated po
sition, and is a place of spacious and iraposing char
acter, are sorae of the principal edifices exposed : at
tbe nortb end, the finest location in the city, the
Teraple of Jupiter, commanding a magnificent view
of Vesuvius and the Appenines ; on the west side.

530

benedict's wanderings.

the Temple of Venus, the most superb structure of
the sort in the city ; and on the east side, the Pan
theon and Senate Chamber.
Some places have a variety of names, as tbe House
of Homer, also caUed tbe House of the Tragic Poet ;

^^-r^

JS^S^S^"'*"

AMPHITHEATRE AT POMPEII

the House of the Faun, also called tbe House of tbe
Great Mosaic ; and the Greek Temple, which is like
wise called tbe Temple of Neptune, and the Temple
of Hercules. . A better idea of the extent of the city,
and of the relative location of the places mentioned.

^^^^.«M»__»,.,

Refer ences
1 Street of Tomls fL
2,nimitrl£sVilla ^—
3 Cicero's Villa
4./':'ublic Scat
5. Sculptors Shop
fi TuhlicJJaka i Sliap
1 Fountain
ShmiH- if Apollo
9 Academy of'Mit.nc
JO Vcstcmus Gate
JiUousc lithe Faun.
7X> FuUic Batli
l^t.Ttvi}' JupiUr .ifli'
li.FanOu'cni .y^ ^-"'
IC^, Senate Ouvil.
J6, I'orinn. 'J
17 Taiip.Veinit:
IS Juchjmaitiinn
79.Tnit}ileoflssits
io. TrianijularFonnu
2/ Tniific Theater
ri (Piinrhrs trf tlu Solifie.
2,S' 7 htataci' Comedy
:i.'l Mnnnc Cate

Tlau of the
EXCAVATIONS IK
w POMPEII.

3Stni

1 ^

nTT

as

f^ ii_

25 .Ainphithcitet^

I'he dar'k .^lutdc'd arc-a
oil xtluch vineyariUi-c arf grcnmcj
shows i'lat jnirt vfFonipm cn'eivd
with aslics tiorn 2 1ol2 /'id ticif, :
iJic wOnlc Imi:<- show the c.ccavatcj

Ij^

M#i

mmi f

AMONG THE RUINS. 531
and others of scarcely less importance, may be ob
tained from a map of the excavations.
Many amusing incidents occurred during this ex
cursion, but I bave space for the mention of only one.
Our guide having his part well coraraitted, was
inclined to electrify us now and then with his superior
knowledge. Having reached a subterranean apart
ment in one of the elegant private bouses, he informed
us that it was the cellar in which a bottle of wine had
been found during tbe removal of the ashes and tufa
from .the buUding. Bachelor listened attentively to
bis account of the discovery, and immediately began
to search tbe place for another. The guide chuckled,
but Bachelor persisted, witb bis cane poking about
among the rubbish, in the dark and distant corners of
the cellar. Presently he fished out something, which,
upon examination, proved to be another bottle.
It was a long, narrow vessel, flat on the sides, round
on the edges, and square on the bottom, witb sloping
shoulders and a slender neck. The mouth was cov
ered with a glass cap, whicb went on witb a screw,
and was hermetically sealed. On each side, slightly
raised, was a distinct Roman P. The bottle con
tained a liquid, which, held between the eye and the
light, was of a purple hue, but when poured into an
ordinary glass was red, while tbe bottle was blue.
The guide wished to take charge of the bottle, and

532 benedict's wanderings.
in the name of the government protested against its
being opened ; but Bachelor, not heeding bis remon
strances, picked at the seal with his knife. It was a
bard substance, but soon began to jrield to his efforts,
and by the time we had reached tbe street, was
dropping off in pieces. When it was all chipped
a-tvay, he reraoved tbe cover, and poured out a glass
of the contents for Mrs. Murray ; but she declined it,
saying, " It may be poison." Bachelor held it under
bis nose, then tasted it, and with a burst of exulta
tion, exclaimed, "As I live, it is Lacryma Christi."
This is a luscious wine, made from grapes that grow
near Vesuvius ; a small production, reserved for the
royal cellars.
After all tbe corapany had partaken of the con
tents, a small quantity was given to tbe guide, who,
smacking his lips, exclaimed, " How age iraproves
wine ! " Afterwards, Bachelor presented the bottle to
bim, as tbe foundation of a fortune, upon condition
that he would not report the discovery to his govern
ment. What success the fellow met with I never heard,
as on the next day Bachelor and I bade adieu to our
friends in Naples, and sailed for Sicily.

PART V.

CHAPTER I.
ST. ROSALIE'S CITY.
¦S
"riT the very last, I think I should not have had

tbe pleasure of Bachelor's company, but for
tbe assistance of Mrs. Murray. Perceiving
the cause of his hesitation, she remarked to me cas-
. uaUy, but in his hearing, that she was very sorry to
part vrith us, and especially before tbe arrival of Mr.
Henderson, to whom her neice was engaged. This
was sufficient — Bachelor went with Benedict.
We sailed direct to Palermo, the chief city of
Sicily, of which it is the capital ; at present contain
ing nearly 200,000 inhabitants. It is a handsome
city, built in tbe form of an amphitheatre, facing the
sea, and is enclosed by a wall. It is di-vided into four
parts, by two large streets, each more than a mile in
length, leading to the four principal gates. The
streets are well paved with flat blocks of lava, and
are adorned -with statues and fountains.
Between tbe city and the sea, is a raised terrace, a
mUe in length, and two hundred and flfty feet in

536 BENEDICT'S WANDERINGS.
breadth, tbe flnest promenade in the city, called the
Marina. Below this walk is a beautiful drive, and at
the east end of it is a public garden, the Villa GiuUa,
beautifully laid out, and ornamented with statues,
fountains, and summer-houses.
Palermo contains many handsome buildings, pri
vate as well as public, built in the Doric, Ionic, and
Corrinthian orders of architecture. Nearly all the
dwelling houses have balconies, where the ladies usu
aUy spend their evenings.
There are said to be over seventy convents, two-
thirds of which are for males. The churches are also
numerous, and raost of them truly magnificent. In
marbles, mosaics, and alabasters, they are unequaled.
The floors are of inlaid marble, and the altars and
tabernacles of precious stones, jasper, lapis-lazuli,
verd-antique, malachite, and porphyry.
Tbe Cathedral is a large edifice of the twelfth cen
tury, surmounted with a modern cupola. It was
erected by the Norman Prince Ruggero — anglicized,
Roger — by whom the island was delivered from the
Saracens, and dedicated to Santa Rosalia, (St. Ros
alie) a niece of Williara the Good. It contains a
statue of this saint, and the tombs of its founder and
Ferdinand II. The other churches that particularly
attracted our attention, were St. Peter, St. Guiseppe
and Martorana.,

ST. Rosalie's city. 537
Of the palaces, the most important is the Palazza
Regale, in the twelfth century a fortress, and the res
idence of Roger. It is now the residence of the
viceroy, and contains a gallery of pictures, a good
armory, and an observatory, frora which Piozza dis
covered tbe planet Ceres. The Palazza della Ziza is
a real Saracen structure whicb was erected near the
close of the ninth century. The Palazza Vercelle,
comraanding a fine view of tbe harbor, is built to
represent a Pompeian villa.
Near the Palazza della Ziza is the Capuchin con
vent, containing the celebrated Catacombs. In this
receptacle, are an iramense number of bodies, the
males standing on their feet, the females lying in boxes
with glass lids, and all clad as in life. Some of the
bodies have been here for several centuries.
From Palermo, we made two interesting excursions,
one to Monte Peregrine, and the other to Monreale.
On the former, is the Shrine of St. Rosalie, the pat
roness of Palermo, concerning whora there is an inter
esting legend, believed by the natives.
At the age of fourteen years, St. Rosalie was affi
anced to Roger, then King of Sicily. Two days
before the tirae appointed for the celebration of the
nuptials, she disappeared, and ber body lay for some
centuries, in a grotto on the top of this mountain. It
was mysteriously discovered during the prevalence of

538 benedict's wanderings.
a plague in Palermo, in a perfect state of preserva
tion ; and by the municipal authorities and dignita
ries of the Church, brought in state to the Cathedral
of Palermo, when the plague departed.
To commemorate this event, a church was erected
near tbe surarait of the mountai n, with an altar over
tbe cave where her remains were discovered. Near
the altar is a fine marble statue of this sainted virgin
dying. The view from the summit of this moun
tain, in beauty of outline, is said to excel any pros
pect in Europe.
In a lovely situation, four miles frora Palermo, is
the town of Monreale, originally a Saracenic hamlet,
but enlarged by William the Good, who built in it a
stately Cathedral, the finest sacred edifice in Sicily.
Four styles of architecture are combined in its con
struction, and like the churches of Palermo, tbe walls
are covered with mosaics, the floor inlaid with choice
marbles, and the altars and tabernacles adorned -with
precious stones.
On the staircase of the annexed raonastery is a cel
ebrated painting, by Monrealese, which represents
William the Good blessed by St. Benedict, (one of
my ancestral relations, I presume) ; but, for some
reason, females are not aUowed to look upon this
great masterpiece.
On an elevated spot tb the right of Monreale, is the

ST. Rosalie's city.

539

Monastero di San Martino, supposed to have been
founded by Gregory the Great. It is appropriated to
noblemen only, and in the beauty of its situation, the
splendor of its appearance, and the richness of its
embelUshments, resembles a royal residence more than
a reUgious retirement. The cloister is said to surpass
any thing of the kind in Christendom.

CLOISTER AT MONREALE.

Among otber places of note, we visited the villa
and gardens of Prince Butera, which, in 1845-6,
were occupied by the iraperial fiimily of Russia ; and

540 benedict's wanderings,
La Favorita, in which tbe Bourbons resided while
Murat sat on the throne of Naples.
In Palermo, there are several educational institu
tions, the principal being a college of nobles, a high
female seminary, and an episcopal seminary. There
are also libraries and scientific associations, public
baths and charitable institutions, a royal hospital and
a foundling hospital, an arsenal and ship-yards.
Our stay in Palermo was short — only four days, but
exceedingly pleasant. In midsummer, the climate of
Sicily is too hot, and at some other seasons, there is
danger from malaria ; but in October, no inconven
ience from either is experienced. I mention this fact
for the ben(;fit qi' the other raerabers of the great
Benedict family, who may wish to visit this ancient
city and regale their eyes with its beauty, and splen
dor, and lavish luxuriance.

CHAPTER II.

OLD ZANCLE.

SQ^

yROM Palermo, we proceeded by steamer to
If Messina, passing the Lipari Islands about day
break. This group is entirely of volcanic ori
gin, and three of the islands are voIcanoES. Lipari
(which gives name to the group, being the largest)
and Vulcano arfe occasionaUy in action, white Strom
boli is constantly emitting smoke and flatnes. It is a
conical bifurcated rock, 2500 feet in height,; and about
twelve railes in circumference: It contains: a popula
tion of 12,000 inhabitants.
Messina was originally called Zancle, from a Greek
term signifying a sickle, tbe harbor, one of the best
in the Mediterranean, being formed by a semi-circular
strip of land, resembUng that utensil. It is walled,
flanked witb bastions, and defended by a citadel and
several forts. In size, it is the second city: in Sicily,
extending two miles along the bay and half a mile up
the acclivity, in the form of an amphitheatre. The
population is about two-thirds that of Palermo.

542

benedict's wanderings.

For the most part, the city is handsomely laid out,
with wide streets, weU-paved -with blocks of lava.
The principal promenade is the quay, which is adorned
with statues and fountains, and, as in Palermo, called

STROMBOLI.

the Marina. Beyond this is a magnificent terrace,
which, before the earthquake of 1783, was Uned with
stately .edifices, only a few of which survived that
great convulsion. The houses constructed since that
event, seldom exceed two stories.
As in all Italian cities, the Cathedral is a principal
edifice. It was erected in the twelfth century, and is

Old Zancle.

543

of Saracenic and Gothic architecture. The inside,
shaped like a Latin cross, is erabellished with columns'
of Egyptian granite, taken from ancient temples. It
contains a marble pulpit, beautifully carved, and a
high altar, superbly decorated. Internally, through
out, it is richly ornamented.
We visited several other churches, the best worthy
of notice being the Annunciation, Monte Virgine, and
San Gregoris ; the last annexed to a Ladies' convent,
and built on the foundations of an ancient temple,
consecrated to Jove. It is beautifuUy situated on a
lofty eminence, which commands a magnificent view,
and is the most elegantly decorated church in the city.
Near this edifice, in front
of an ordinary dwelling,
a priest was addressing a
house-wife. This is no un
comraon occurrence, but
something in his raanner
I arrested my attention. " Is
I he lecturing her upon her
1^ temporal, or spiritual du-
'.:^ ties "^ " I inquired of Bach
elor. " I think he is chiding
PRIEST AND HOUSE-WIPE, hci for hcr shortcomings, or
rebuking her for her sins," he replied. Perhaps it
was so, for the priest was very earnest, and the house
wife obviously displeased.

544 benedict's wanderings.
Tbe principal of the public buildings devoted to
secular purposes, is the Viceroy' s Palace, at tbe south
end of the city, a fine building, in a beautiful park.
There is an archiepiscopal palace, senate charaber,
custora house, exchange, bank, arsenal, lazzaretto, two'
theatres, and an opera house, one of the best in
Europe. The Piazza del D'uomo contains a fine fountain, and
a colossal equestrian statue, in bronze, of Carlo II. ;
and in another square, is a demi-colossal statue, in
bronze, of Ferdinando I., a sirailar statue of Carlo
IIL, and a celebrated fountain, representing Neptune,
drawn by four horses, in the act of calming a terapest
excited by Scylla and Charybdis.
In this city, the streets and public places are full
of filthy beggars ; and we were rejoiced, after one
day's sojourn, to depart for Catania, where our
friends, inforraed of our coming, were prepared to
receive us with welcomes.

CHAPTER III.
THE CITY OF LAVA.
|0 Catania we proceeded by railroad, the ascent
^ of Mount jEtna being something I very much
^^S desired to make, if my health would adrait, on
reaching Nicolosi. Arrived at that point, I felt my
self strong enough to attempt the undertaking, but
had very Uttle conception of the suffering I had to
undergo before ray return. I persevered, however, as
others had done before, and though I nearly perished
with the intense cold, had the rare pleasure of behold
ing — possibly from the very spot where Adrian stood
— the sun rise from behind the mountains of Calabria,
and spread his unclouded effulgence over Sicily and
the sea.
Sixty eruptions of .^tna are recorded in history.
By some this mountain is estimated to be thirty, and
by others forty leagues, in circumference. The lowest
m,easurement aUows the cone a height of 10,000 feet,
the crater a depth of 600, and a width of two and a
half miles.

546

BENEDICT'S WANDERINGS.

At the foot of this mountain, Catania is situated.
Tbe origin of this city is lost in antiquity, but there
are evidences of Greek and Roman occupancy. Most
of the ancient edifices, however, are entombed beneath
the eruptions of ^tna. By the eruption of 1669,

CEATER OF ^,TNA.
the city was severely injured, and bythe earthquake
of 1693, it was almost entirely destroyed.
The first person to welcome us on our arrival, was
Musgrave. He had been at the station every day
after the receipt of ray letter. He was so improved

THE CITY OP LAVA. 547
in health and appearance, that I was at first in doubt
as to his identity. He was most cordial in bis wel
come, but had the frankness to adrait that it was not
entirely devoid of selfishness.
"It is a fearful odds — three against one !" he re
marked. " It is a powerful combination — a deter
mined guardian, a subtle priest, and a fervent lover !.
Against each I used his own weapons, and for a time
maintained my vantage ground. Finding it impossi
ble to dislodge me from Nora's affections, they resolved
to deprive us pf each other' s society ; and had it not
been for your letters, announcing your coraing, I
know not what would have been the result. I think
they would have forced her to choose between O'Reilly
and a convent."
He paused to afford me an opportunity to answer,
and I observed that he was in, nervous expectation.
" Allow me to survey the battle-field before venturing
an opinion," I replied. " I sball then have niore confi
dence in what I recommend."
At the hotel, our friends — " the fine ould Irish gin
tleman," "the lover all as frantic," and "the priest
all shaven and shorn" — received us with expressions
of welcome ; but if there was not a lack of cordiality,
there certainly was some embarrassment.
I was not prepared for the change I saw in tbe
"colleen bawn." She looked thin and dejected.

548 benedict's wanderings,
though I think she still possessed firmness enough to
have resisted any attempt at coercion.
Her joy at meeting us was too intense for words of
welcome; it found vent in tears. Father McQuinlan,
who was present, shrugged his shoulders — a mark of
disapprobation. In Catania we spent several days, devoting an hour
or two of each to short excursions, Musgrave acting
as our guide. It would be impossible to mention
every thing we saw worthy of notice, and useless to
distinguish tbe doings of each day.
On the first excursion, I invited the other gentle
men, separately, to bear us company, but for different
reasons they all declined. Last of all, I invited
Nora, and she accepted. The arrangeraent was pre
cisely such as I desired.
Catania was once a city of great magnificence ; it
is even now, next to Palermo, the handsomest town
in Sicily. Tbe streets are wide,- straight and exten
sive, and lined with elegant houses, churches, convents
and palaces.
In several of tbe Italian cities, lava is used to some
extent for purposes of utiUty. But Catania is a city
of lava : the waUs and houses are built of lava, tbe
streets are paved witb lava, the mole is formed of
lava, the furniture is made of lava, the monuments,
statues and toys are of lava, and even the soil (which

THB CITY OP LAVA. 549
is most productive) is lava in a state of decompo
sition. One of our excursions was to the Greek theatres,
over whicb modem edifices are now erected. Through
excavations made sorae years ago, by Prince Biscari,
a patriotic nobleraan, these ancient structures were
partially exposed. They are constructed of lava, and
one of them is supposed to have contained 33,000
spectators. On another occasion, we visited the remains of a
Roman araphitheatre, larger than any structure of the
kind now known to exist ; also, the ruins of an odean,
a hippodrorae, a theatre, and two or three temples, of
which there are many, consecrated to heathen idolatry.
One of the curiosities of Catania is the Spring, re
stored to the inhabitants by Prince Biscari. It was
buried by the streara of lava in 1669, which over
topped the raraparts, sixty feet high, and fell in a
fiery cascade into the city. In time the molten matter
cooled, and the solid lava, still curling over the walls,
resembles a cataract. Th(j Spring is reached by a
flight of sixty-three steps, in the midst of solid lava.
Having viewed the principal ruins, including ac"
queducts, baths and fountains, we visited a few of
the modem ediflces — the Cathedral, the Senate-
chamber, the Governraent Pawn-bank, the Univer
sity, the Benedictine monastery, and the Museum

550

benedict's wanderings.

founded by Prince Biscari, which contains many val
uable antiques in bronze and marble.
In point of architecture, the Cathedral is said to
be the most chaste and elegant church in Sicily. It
is constructed of lava, except tbe columns in the
facade, whicb are of granite. It is surraounted by
a handsorae cupola. The interior is decorated with
frescoes, arabesques and basso-relievi.

MARRIAGE IN SICLLT.

During our visit to this edifice, an event of tbe
highest interest occurred — a native marriage. The
faraiUes represented were of wealth and high social
position. The bridal pair were young and handsome,

THE CITY OP LAVA. 551
fashionably and elegantly attired, and attended by
friends who crowned them with wreaths of leaves and
flowers. The bishop, who was assisted by several
priests, was gorgeously arrayed. Altogether, it was a
most imposing cereraony.
As we left the church, I observed tears coursing
down the cheeks of the " colleen bawn." She quickly
brushed them asidti, and endeavored to suppress her
emotion, but without success, for presently they burst
forth anew, accompanied by a great sob, which, more
even than the tears,, evinced the depth of her distress.
" 0 ! " she exclairaed, in a low tofae, lifting her melt
ing eyes to mine, " I am so miserable ! "
" There is no reason why you should be," I replied.
" You are loved by two young gentlemen, each of
whom is anxiously seeking an opportunity, to offer
himself in marriage."
" That," said she, " is part of my misery. I dare
not afford either of them an opportunity."
"Nevertheless," said I, "it is soraething you ought
to accord to both, in justice to thera as well as your-
sell. One you love, the other you do not love : to
tbe former, you should say, yes ; to the latter, no ;
and the result will be a scene such as you have just
witnessed."

CHAPTER IV.
FALLEN GREATNESS.
.^^HE day after the marriage in Catania, Bach-
illS ^'''^ ^^^ •"¦ "^i^i*^*^ Syracuse. I bad no opportu-
^^S nity before our aeparture to add a word to
what I had said to Nora the evening previous. To
Musgrave I repeated the words which Bulwer puts
into the mouth of Richlieu :
"In the lexicon of youth, which fate reserves
For a bright manhood, there is no such word
As— /aiZ."
Of all the cities I have seen, none equals Syracuse
in fallen greatness. In its palmiest days, according to
modern -writers, it contained a population of 250,000
inhabitants. Some ancient writers say it comprised a
population of 1,200,000, and maintained an army of
100,000 foot and 10,000 horse, and a navy of 500
armed vessels. It was twenty-two miles in circum
ference, enclosed by triple walls, and defended by three
citadels. Now the population is less than 20,000,
and the to-wn is confined to the island Ortygia. The

PALLEN GREATNESS. 553
destruction of this city was caused by the earthquake
of 1693.
Little now remains of ancient Syracuse, except a
few unintelligible remains, in the orchards and vine
yards, widely separated. In one place are fragments
of the walls, which are beautiful specimens of ma
sonry. Traces of eighteen gates have been discovered.
The Amphitheatre was of Roman construction. It
was partly hewn out of the solid rock, the rest being
masonry. It had four entrances and an acqueduct.
The diaraeter was 134 feet, and tbe podium over eight
feet in height.
The Theatre is reputed to be the most ancient
of the Grecian structures of this character. It, foo,
was partly hewn out of the rock, and corapleted with
masonry. It was in the shape of a horse shoe, 116
' feet in diameter, and held 80,000 spectators. Two
corridors and several seats remain.
But as the seats were damp — in Syracuse every
thing is damp, and the cliraate unhealthy — Bachelor
bought a pair of raats for our use, frora a couple of
pedlars near the ruins. Venders of this comfortable
commodity are quite common in the city and suburbs
of Syracuse.
The Latomise, or prisons, forraed in the quarries
from which tbe materials for the construction of the
city were obtained, are very gloomy. That in which

554

BENEDICT S WANDERINGS.

the tyrant Dionysius is supposed to have confined sus
pected persons, is of most singular construction. It
was fifty-eight feet high, seventeen wide, and two
hundred and ten long, and shaped like a letter S. It
sloped upward, carrying all
sounds by means of groves,
to an aperature that com
municated with a private
apartment, where tbe ty
rant spent his leisure hours
in listening to the dis
course of his prisoners.
Hence, its name — The Ear
of Dionysius.
MAT PEDLERS. Thc Catacorabs consist
of a principal street, and smaller ones on each side,
with oblong cavities as receptacles for the dead — all
cut in the solid rock.
The other vestiges of antiquity, are the Fountain
of tbe Nymph Arethusa, now a mere tank, used for
washing and bleecbing ; the remains of Hexapylon,
a strong fortress ; tbe Palace of Sixity Beds, con
structed by Agathocles ; and a tomb, supposed to be
that of Archimedes.
Near this tomb we were beset by all sorts of pedlers,
those from whom we had purchased the mats having
published their good fortune. A more persistent set

FALLEN GREATNESS.

555

of venders I never encountered. The guide, to whom
we had already given the raats, said he was unable to
afford us protection ; but when I offered to buy hira
any thing he wanted if he would send them away, he
dispersed them in a twinkling, except a basket
merchant, from whose wares he selected a big basket,
of which be became the owner at ray expense.
After that we had no
similar difficulty.
The modern town
presents a few objects
of interest, among
which are a citadel of
the Middle Ages, a bar
racks, a college, a royal
acaderay, a museum of
antiquities, and a pub
lic library.
Two of the churches
are particularly worthy of notice : St. Marcian, the
first church in Europe devoted to Christian worship ;
and the Cathedral, a Grecian Doric structure, which,
having formerly been a teraple consecrated to the
worship of Minerva, has been continuously used for a
place of devotion for 2,500 years.
Having spent two days in this reranant of a great
city, we returned to Catania, on our way to Messina,
Q Q <j

BASKET MERCHAMT.

556 benedict's wanderings.
where we were to separate : Bachelor, who bad ex
hausted the time whicb he had allowed himself for
absence, to return horae ; and I, in conforraity with
my original plan, to extend my wanderings as_far east
as Cairo and Jerusalum. But — as I found it on this
occasion — it is as well to keep in mind the pro-verb of
Soloraon : " Boast not thyself of to-morrow, for thou
knowest not what a day may bring forth."

CHAPTER V.

THE RETURN.

SmIF no man knows what one day may bring forth,
SJH how can he be prepared for the changes that
tji^]may occur during an absence uf four, and in a
party such as we left behind us at Catania. Though
I hoped to hear that Musgrave had offered Nora mar
riage, I was surprised and delighted to learn that he
had surmounted every obstacle, and was raaster of the
situation. The eneray had abandoned the field : the
rejected lover escaping to his clients and cases in
Londonderry ; the " little, round, fat, oily raan of
God," retreating in the direction of Rome; and the
" fine ould Irish gintleman" surrendering without
conditions. " Thou knowest not what a day raay bring forth,"
was verified on that occasion in another particular.
A bundle of letters for me, forwarded frora Naples to
Messina, had been sent on to Catania, being
marked " Urgent." Some of these letters were of lit
tle consequence ; but there were others, — one from

558 benedict's wanderings.
ray wife, and several frora my clients, — urging my
immediate return as necessary for the preservation of
, my business.
Here was a great disappointraent, for I had antici
pated much pleasure from my contemplated wander
ings in Egypt and the Holy Land. Perhaps " busi
ness before pleasure," is a good adage under any cir
cumstances, though I should have put it aside on this
occasion, if no injury could have resulted from ray ab
sence save pecuniary loss to myself. But the inter
ests of others being involved, through the misman
agement of my agents, I had no alternative but to
return with ray friend Bachelor.
The next morning, accompanied by O'Keeffe and
the lovers, we returned to Messina, where a steamer
was expected in tbe afternoon. Here we separated,
they proceeding by way of Naples to Rome, where the
affianced pair were to be married, and Bachelor and
I by way of Gibraltar to America.
The vessel upon which we took passage, touched at
Tunis, a sea-port of Africa, strongly fortified, about
three miles from the ruins of ancient Carthage, which
I greatly desired to behold ; but the tirae of our stay,
much to my regret, was not even sufficient for a stroll
through tbe city. Approaching frora the sea, the ap
pearance of Tunis is picturesque, the houses being of
uniforra size and dazzling whiteness, and here and

THE RETURN. 559
there overtopped by the dome of a mosque, or the
spire of a Greek or Roman church. But I was con
soled with the assurance that the pleasant impression
made by a distant view, would not be confirmed by a
nearer inspection, the streets being narrow, unpaved,
tortuous, and extreraely filthy, while the houses were
chiefly one storied and of mean appearance.
We also touched at Algiers, another city of Africa,
but now the strongly fortifled capital of a French
province. Like Tunis, it is visible from a considera-
able distance at sea, the houses being of dazzling
whiteness ; but the aspect is more imposing, as they
rise in ranges like the seats of an amphitheatre, ter
minating in an esplanade on which stands the citadel.
But like Tunis in another respect,
"'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view."
The streets, are narrow, uneven, crooked, and dirty,
the houses of one story, sorae of brick and some of
stone, and all externally whitewashed. The popula
tion is about half that of Tunis — 100,000.
At Malaga, in Spain, we remained in harbor frora
early in the afternoon until the following morning.
Viewed from the sea, this is also a beautiful city,
built in the forra of an araphitheatre, at the base of a
raountain, and is commanded by an old Moorish cas
tle, situated on an elevated rock. ReaUy, however, it
is not a place of much beauty, the streets being nar-

THE RETURN. 561
row, ill-paved, and dirty, and the houses built around
courts. The public edifices are not deserving of par
ticular mention, except the Cathedral, which is noted
for its spire, 302 feet in height. Some of the best
bouses are situated on the promenade, which, in the
evenings, is much frequented by the citizens, who are
ostentatious in their attire, and exceedingly fond of
display and admiration.
The next day we arrived in Gibraltar, at the en
trance of ther Mediterranean, an English town and
fortification. The town contains about 20,000 inhab
itants, and occupies a low level strip of land between
the rock and tbe sea. The fortress is called the key
of the Mediterranean. Seen frora the sea, the rock
presents a most formidable appearance. It projects
into the sea about three railes, is nearly three fourths
of a raile wide, and 1400 feet high. It is Connected
with tbe Continent by a low sandy isthraus, a raile
and a half long, and three quarters of a raile wide,
having on one side the Bay of Gibraltar, and on the
other the Mediterranean. The north face is alraost
perpendicular, and the east and south are full of prec
ipices. The west side, on which the town is built, is
less rugged, but more strongly fortified. It is thought
to be impregnable.
In this rock, variously situated, are numerous
caves, some of which are beautifuUy picturesque.

THE RETURN. 563
but SO difficult of access, that few have the courage
to visit them. The most reraarkable of these caves
is St. Michael, the entrance to which is said to be
1,000 feet ftbove the level of tbe sea.
A noticeable feature of this stronghold, are tbe
fortified passages, leading from one part of the gar
rison to another, without being exposed to the fire of
tbe enemy. The passages are cut through tbe solid
rock, and some of thera are three miles in length, and
wide enough for carriages. Along these passages, at
the distance of twelve yards apart, are port-holes
bearing upon the land and bay. On the top of the
rock are barracks, towers and fortresses. Tbe nuni
ber of guns now mounted is nearly a thousand.
During our stay in Gibraltar — three days- — we be
came acquainted with raost of the officers of the gar
rison, and, raany of the raore prorainent citizens of
the town. Sorae of the officers — the younger ones,
who were still fond of adventure — showed us a great
deal of attention. The acquaintanceship was a rau
tual pleasure ; they were glad of any. thing to diver
sify the monotony of life in garrison, and we were
delighted to be again among people who spoke our
own language. Two days were spent in and about
tbe fortress, and in the town, and in saUing across the
bay from Europa Point to Point St. Garcia, tbe capes
by whibb it is formed. On the third, we made a trip

t J

.^ - tif' J I'

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J i U .Mf't,  ! I J '^ll

THB RETURN. 565
to Tangier, in Morocco. Three officers. Bachelor and
myself coraposed the party on this excursion ; and,
to use the fashionable phrase of young ladies who de
light in evening parties, we bad a good time.
Tangier is a seaport town, walled and otherwise
fortified, standing on a height at the entrance of the
Strait of Gibraltar. Like many other seaports of the
Mediterranean, it is semi-circular inform, correspond
ing to tbe spacious bay near which it is situated-
Approached from the sea, it presents a very striking
appearance ; but, in reality, is a very wretched place,
having but one decent street, and no respectable
dweUings except a few occupied by European consuls
and wealthy merchants, tbe other streets being nar
row, dirty lanes, and the houses little better 'than
hovels. The principal buildings are the castle, which
is in a state of advanced dilapidation, and the places
devoted to religious worship — a Roman Catholic
church, several synagogues, and a number of mosques,
one of which is a handsome edifice. The trade is
small — chiefly conflned to Gibraltar ; tbe population
about 10,000 inhabitants.
Our return voyage was marked by no unusual inci
dent. A wealthy gentleman frora the coal regions of
Pennsylvania, who with his wife and daughter were
returning from an extended tour in Europe, took pas
sage with us at Gibraltar. The daughter was young

566 benedict's wanderings.
and beautiful, graceful and accomplished, and lovea
ble ; and Bachelor, true to his instincts, made her the
object of his special attentions. There were not many
passengers on the vessel, and the opportunities for
courtship were favorable. The first few days the
young lady was coy, but time gradually wore away
the reserve, and — well, suffice to say that, as we as
cended the Bay of New York, the corapanion of my
wanderings whispered in my ear :
" When I said I woald die a bachelor,
I did not think I should live till I were
Married."