yALe cfniveRsity Library
the gARVAn coLLeccion
of
books on iReLAnd
estABLished in 1971 By
f RAncis p. gARVAri, yALe 1897
in honoR of his pARents
pAtRiCK 0ARVAH
mARy carroLL gARVAn

THE

SPORTSMAN IN IRELAND,

SUMMEE ROUTE

THROUGH THE

HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND.
BY A COSMOPOLITE.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LONDON :
HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER,
GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
v 1840.

LONDON
F. SHOBERL, JUN , PRINTER, 51 , RUPERT STREET, HAYMARKET.

TO
GEN. SIR JOHN GUISE, BART. K.C.B.,
IN TOKEN OF THE
HIGHEST ADMIRATION OF
HIS CHARACTER AS A
SOLDIER, A SCHOLAR, AND A GENTLEMAN,
THESE PAGES ARE DEDICATED
BY THE AUTHOR.

PREFACE.

If in these pages political views have been taken,
it is simply because none other can be taken of
Ireland. So intimately bound up with the hap
piness or misery of its population is the political
injustice under which it has suffered, that it is
impossible that any unprejudiced tourist can avoid
the unpardonable " sin" of allusion to party- feeling.
The testimony I bear is not that of a Catholic.
There is no communicant of the Church of England
who more proudly refers to the efficiency of its
ministry, the mildness of its domination, or the
usefulness of its labours. To the Church of Eng
land do we owe all the free exercise of conscientious
belief; and, as I contend, the gratuitous religious

vi PREFACE.
instruction with which this country is blessed — for
I cannot deem that an impost on the people which
has become a rent charge on the soil — and where
the original landlord divides only a portion of his
enormous possessions with the learned and benevo
lent pastor, who resides amongst the tenantry,
from the labours of whom the whole value of the
soil is derived. I view the division of such posses
sions as an inestimable advantage to the people ;
and I believe the purpose to which that division is
applied to be the advancement of religion, and the
establishment of a source whence all its consolations
may be safely derived.
But in Ireland it is otherwise : the Church of
England is no longer the Church of England in its
objects or practical benefits in Ireland — it becomes,
indeed, the Church of Ireland, as by law establishedj
and has no community with the charity and mild
domination of its sister establishment.
Religion is the political spot which has sepa
rated one seventh from the rest ofthe inhabitants —
a separation which has marred its equal progress
with other lands — as that seventh portion consists

PREFACE. Vll
unhappily of the wealthy, the influential, and the
absent. I have sought to represent the population of Ire
land as it is — not as it has been hitherto represented.
If my observations, which were necessarily cursory,
shall have excited only inquiry into the state of
the Catholic peasantry, more useful purposes will
have been achieved than the mere journal of the
wanderings of the Sportsman in Ireland.

ILLUSTRATIONS.

VOLUME I.

PAGE

The Birthplace of Daniel O'Conneli

Frontispiece.

Coltsman Castle, on the Flesk -.

. 74

The Old Weir Bridge

. 103

The Gap and Castle of Dunloe

114

Beaufort Bridge ....

. 116

Black water Bridge

. 129

The Flood .....

. 136

Cahirciveen . ...

177

Waterville Lake ....

. 199

Ancient Burial-Ground on Waterville Lake

. 203

Round Tower, White Strand

211

Athlene Bridge

. 273

Galway .....

284

VOLUME II.

Connemara — Ballinahinch

Frontispiece.

Inverary .....

. 176

Inverary — Loch Fyne

. 191

Dundarre Castle

. 216

Loch Awe .....

. 240

Tarbert .....

. 273

Cobbler Mountain, Loch Lomond .

. 293

CONTENTS

THE FIRST VOLUME.

CHAPTER I.

The Sportsman's Resolve — The Slow Coach — The Irish Packet
— Passengers — Irish Family — View of Ireland— The British
Legioner — His History — The Mutiny — The Spokesman — The
Punishment — The Return — Arrival in London — The Sti
pendiary Magistrate — Arrival at Cork — Appearance of the_
Coast — Dreary Prospect to some . . 1
CHAPTER II.
Cork — The Harbour — Splendour and Misery — Imperial Hotel —
High Charges — The Assizes — Irish Eloquence — Want of
Dignity and Decorum — Irish Judges and Counsel — An Irish
Case — Mike and the Cows — Theatre at Cork — The Castle
Spectre — An Acting Manager — An Evening Party — Punch-
drinking — Three-Card Loo and the Ladies — Female Talent
and Accomplishments — Beauty of the Women — Advice to
Sportsmen — Departure from Cork . . .18

X CONTENTS.
CHAPTER III.
Start from Cork— Wild Character ofthe Country — An Irish Coach
man — Sporting Prospects — Warning to Improvers — Pike versus
Salmon — Arrival at Macroom — Ominous Demonstrations — A
False Alarm — Inn Accommodations — An Irish Waiter —
Extravagant Charges — Poverty and Desolation — Taste for
Mud — Commencement of Operations — A Native Sportsman
— Irish Blarney — Directions for Trolling — Incomparable
Bait ..... 29
CHAPTER IV.
Advice to Sportsmen — Mode of Conveyance — An Irish Pony and
his Food — Delight of the First Cast — Failure and Success —
Irish Astonishment — An Irish Sign — Native Hospitality — A
Sportsman's Dinner — Natural Magic — Lake Inchgeelah — Di
rections for Fishing in this Lake — Hints to Anglers and Sports
men in general — Character of the Kerry Peasantry — An Invi
tation to Dinner — Irish Servants — An odd Establishment —
An Irish Kitchen— Irish Hospitality — Wine and the Ladies —
Whiskey and the Gentlemen — An Irish Dinner-Party — The
Sporting Major — Longbow-ism — An Irish Angler's Exploit —
Sporting Extraordinary — A Dance — Prospective Sport with
the Major .... 43
CHAPTER V.
Characteristic Scenery — Encampment of the Whitefeet Rebels
— Romantic Escapes and Dangers of an Irish Gentleman —
Irish Hospitality — The Lake of Inchgeelah — Delicious Treat
— Difficult Road — Inn of the Desert — Splendid View — Irish
Ingenuity — History of an Irish Fisherman — His Devoted
Affection — Heroic Self-devotion — Death of his Betrothed —
His Filial Affection — Character of the Irish Peasantry —
Sporting renewed — A Double Bite — Start for Killarney —

CONTENTS. xi
The River Flesk — Noble View — Coltsman Castle — Sporting
Notices — Killarney — A Perfect Gentleman! — Ill-effects of
English Generosity on the Poor of Killarney — Difference
between English and Irish Peasantry — The Problem Explained
— Appeal to Legislators in favour of Ireland . . 60
CHAPTER VI.
Arrival at Killarney — Strange Costume — Street Annoyances and
Beggars — Character of the Inhabitants of Killarney — Lord
Kenmare and the Lakes — Inn Accommodation — Doherty , the
Fly-maker — The Lions of the Lakes — The Major — Impudence
and Imposition — Advantage of Private Lodgings — Price of
Provisions — Impositions of Innkeepers — Hints to Anglers at
Killarney — The Major's Narrative — Hoaxing — A Fighting
Tailor — The Major's Revenge ... 82
CHAPTER VII.
First Day on the Lake — Ross Castle — Splendid View — Accidental
Sport — A Disappointment — The evil of Sight- gazing — Scarcity
of Salmon in the Lakes — Island of Innisfallen — An Impromptu
Breakfast — Beauties of the Island — The Monastery — Coasting
— Famous Sport — The Eagle's Nest— Extraordinary Echoes —
The Pass — The Lower Lake — Residence of Mr. Hyde, Rector
of Killarney — Trouting — Directions for Bait — How to astonish
the Natives — Wonderful success of Salmon-roe — Lord Ken-
mare's Cottage — An Angler's Dinner— Turk Lake — Its monster
Trout — Angling Exploit of Lady Headley — The Major inliis
glory — Enormous Trout — More Hints to Sportsmen at Kil
larney . . . . 96
CHAPTER VIII.
The Rivers — Residences of James and John O'Conneli — Lord
Kenmare — The Gap of Dunloe — Major Mahony — Beaufort

Xlt CONTENTS.
Bridge — Residence of Mr. Mullins, Member for Kerry —
The River Lawne — Excellent Sport — Izaak Walton — The
Major incredulous — Sporting extraordinary — A Cure for
every thing — Killarney Scandal — Lord Headley — The Irish
Agents — A Stag-Hunt in the Lake — Extraordinary Scene of
Irish Jollity — Timber-Hunting in the Bogs — Extinct Animals
— Unpopularity of Lord Kenmare — Reasons for it — Beauties
and Merits of Killarney as a Watering Place . . 114
CHAPTER IX.
Kenmare — Blackwater — Liberality of. the Rev. D. M  . —
Irish Cunning and Roguery — O'Rourke, the Salmon-Poacher
— Story of O'Rourkeand the Magistrate — Gaffing at the Falls
—The Poacher in Exile— The Flood — Singular Habits of the
Salmon — Ascent of the Hills — A Sudden Storm, and its con
sequences — Perils and Escapes — Fatal Catastrophe at Clydah
— The whole of the Cattle and Inhabitants destroyed by a
Flood . . . ¦ . . . 129
CHAPTER X.
A Mountaineer — Harvest-Hunters — Kerry Agents — Influence
of the Catholic Clergy — Causes of that Influence — Safe Tra
velling in Ireland — Temper of the Irish Peasantry — Means
for Improving their Condition — Abundance of Wild Fowl —
The Secret . . 143
CHAPTER XI.
Return to Killarney — Kellorglin — Lake Carraght — Wales's
Inn — Fishery on the Carraght River — Lob-Trout — Fishing
in Lake Carraght — Disappointment — Seal-Shooting — Castle
maine Bay — Birthplace of Daniel O'Conneli — Arrival at
•Cahireiveen .... 157

CONTENTS. xiii
CHAPTER XII.
Cahirciveen — Comfortable Inn — John O'Conneli — Portrait of
the Liberator — Mountain Hunting — A Sportsman's Breakfast
—The Mass — State of Crime in Kerry — Party Feuds — The
Lawlors and Cooleens — A Smasher — the River Inny — Water
ville Lake — Courtesy of Mr. Butler — Live Lamb for Dinner —
Produce of the Weirs — A Deathbed Scene . . 177
CHAPTER XIII.
Enormous Eagle — Fishing in Waterville Lake — Morning-Break
fast — Island Burial-Ground — Funeral — A New Friend — The
White Strand— Anecdote of the Duke of Wellington — Round
Tower— Mullet-fishing . . .199
CHAPTER XIV.
An Extempore Fishing Yacht — The Knight of Kerry — Colony
of Fishermen — Fishing Arrangements — A Night's Fishing —
An Unexpected Prize — Paddy Shea — The Perfection of Sport
— A Great Haul — Cormorant Soup — Threatening Weather —
Irish Superstition — A Storm — Courage ofthe Irish Fisher
men — Dangers and Escapes — A Dance — An Event — Dangers
ofthe Irish Coast — Frightful Scene of Shipwreck — A suspi
cious Visit — Irish Smugglers — Tax on the Poor Man's Comfort,
Tobacco . . . . .214
CHAPTER XV.
Visit to Waterville — New Mode of Angling — Mistake about the
Potato Diet of the Irish — Cobbett right as to its Mischievous
Effects — Drive to Tralee — Miserable State of the Peasantry
— Prevalence of Scrofula and Consumption — Fine Moun
tain Scenery — Castlemaine — The River — The White Trout
— The Lob Trout — Fine Shooting Station for Sea-Fowl and

xiv CONTENTS.
Grouse — Sporting Exciseman — Folly and Rapacity of Irish
Landlords — The Surgeon's Tale — The Murderers — A Mys
terious Character — Irish Court of Justice — The Trial — The
Defence — The Cross- Examination— The Verdict— The Mys
tery explained ..... 234
CHAPTER XVI.
Three pleasant Weeks — O'Conneli as a Landlord — His Occupation
at Derrynane — His Devotion to the Peasantry — The Dancing-
Master in Ireland — Advantages of Ireland over the Continent
— Cheapness and Security ofthe Living— Farewell to Cahir
civeen — Departure for Dingle — Wild-Fowl Shooting — Fishing
at Dingle — Hospitality of the resident Gentry — Trout-fishing
and Grouse-shooting — Causes and Remedy of Irish Discontent
— An Irish Wake — The Irish Howl — A Victim of the " Good
People"— A Fairy Tale .... 251
CHAPTER XVII.
To the Shannon — Mountain Scenery — Profusion of Wild-Fowl
and Hares — Listowel — Extempore Dinner — Cheap Travelling
— Excellent Sport — Primitive Cooking — Mill Street — Extra
ordinary Cheapness of Living — Extreme Wretchedness of the
Inhabitants — First View of the Queen of Irish Rivers, the
Shannon ...... 266
CHAPTER XVIII.
Athlone— Ballinasloe Fair — Onions and Eels — Athlone Bridge 
Lough Ree — The Shannon — Splendid Tract of Country —
Suitable Harbour for Shipping— National Benefit of Railroads,
if made a Government Speculation . . 273
CHAPTER XIX.
Galway— Mr. Keogh — Fishing in Lough Corrib — First Failure
ofthe Infallible Bait— Its Causes— A New Acquaintance— The

CONTENTS. XV
Monastery — Calddagh — Its Antiquity — Forms of Marriage —
Dress of the Females — Respect paid to the Dead — Prevalence
of the Cholera — Benevolence of the Rev. Father Fay — Protes
tants and Catholics — History of James Lynch Fitz Stephen,
the Mayor of Galway .... 284
CHAPTER XX.
Fishing in Lough Corrib — Enormous Trout — The Weirs —
Perch and Pike — Productiveness of the Weirs — Arrival of the
Major — Difficulty of getting a Fishing-Boat — Independence of
the Fishermen — Herring Fishery — The Mayor of the Claddagh
— The Prior — The Priesthood — Preparations for Sport . 303

THE SPORTSMAN IN IRELAND.

CHAPTER I.
The Sportsman's Resolve— The Slow Coach —The Irish Packet
— Passengers — Irish Family — View of Ireland — The British
Legioner — His History — The Mutiny — The Spokesman — The
Punishment — The Return — Arrival in London — The Sti
pendiary Magistrate — Arrival at Cork — Appearance of the
Coast — Dreary Prospect to some.
Who that has heard ofthe resources and beauties
of the Emerald Isle — who that has listened to the
torrents of abuse levelled against those who are at
once termed her patriots and her destroyers, her
liberators and enslavers — who that has heard of
the trackless mountains, the rushing torrents, the
splendid rivers unsullied by a line, or of the wild
birds that are undisturbed on her desolate coasts ;
the honest generosity of character, the hospitable
feelings, yet, albeit, the murderous villany, the
bloodthirsty relentlessness of her children — who
VOL. I. B

2 THE SPORTSMAN'S RESOLVE.
that has only heard of all these, but will determine
at once to be convinced of the truth or falsehood
of the accounts put forth — will at once seize his
rod and his gun, and, delivering himself up to for
tune, make his journey unite the pleasure of wild
sports with the philosophy of statistical observa
tion? I, at all events, will for one ; and, ere I revisit
the artificial shore of my birth, the Irish as they
are, and not as political partisans would paint
them, shall be known to me.
My preparations were simple ; and let me en
treat all those who follow me to make their own so.
In the first place, let no London fly or rod maker
impose on them by the delicate manufacture of
their wares, but by all means let the gun-maker
have his chance ; take a good double-barrel, pow
der, and -casts for bullets, and leave the rest to
fortune and my direction ; also a good woollen
suit, one change for dress, a mackintosh, a well-
strapped wallet — for there is much in its being well
strapped. These are all that can be required by or desirable
to those who would really make the tour of
a sportsman through Ireland. Every desirable
comfort will follow in its proper place; and it
should not be forgotten that the greatest incon
venience of travelling is the travelling with too

THE SLOW COACH. 3
many conveniences. But, as I hate people who
would have to make their arrangements all tend
ing inevitably to embarrass their progress and
restrict their independence, we will suppose the
usual horn-blowing has taken place, the usual
number of now despised coachmen have been feed,
and that we find ourselves half asleep and half
awake at Bristol.
We judge of the distance of places by the time
consumed in reaching them ; in fact, time is dis
tance, and Bristol is a heavy journey. Bristol it
self is a sort of a slow coach. It has, by its paltry
efforts at inordinate gain in the harbour dues,
wrapped itself up in a dignified independence,
while all other ports have surpassed its accommo
dations, and withdrawn its trade. Even the Great
Western does not help it : we must still be bugled
down, and cramped in four insides. But we are
there. And this is the Irish packet ? you need not
answer — I perceive it is. Those shoeless wretches,
shivering under the March blasts, and crouching
midst the packages for a momentary protection —
the surly officers who have just presented them
with their free passage to their native land; the
hopeless gaze of that suffering mother, who de
prives herself of her ragged shawl that she may
shelter her still more suffering infant; all these
b2

4 THE IRISH PACKET.
proclaim the destination of the vessel. Midst the
hoarse orders of the bluff commander she moves in
stately grandeur down the river, and carries with
her the farewells, the hopes, the happiness of many !
It is needless to describe the Clifton Rocks. I
perceive the pencils of. the lady passengers are at
work, while the obsequious gentlemen surrounding
them gaze on the performances, and admire the
wonders of nature, but more those of art.
The massive rocks of the extended scene give
rise to general hilarity, and the ever-varying range
on each side calls forth the admiration of the
Creator's works.
But the sea-breeze now breaks on us. The
hitherto stately vessel yields to the coming tide.
Now shawls and cloaks are in requisition, and the
sketches are left for future finishing and future
encomiums. Less is heard of the beauty of sur
rounding objects, and more of personal comfort.
The cabin is sought by some, where fires, books,
and all the comforts which the gaudy packet can
afford, are at hand. The sea rises — the scudding
squalls dash over the angry spray — there is more
silence and more self among the previously gay and
joyous crowd on the front deck; each looks to
himself; while the storm increases, and the rains
descend. Let us survey the deck. Not one of the many,

THE PASSENGERS. 5
now wrapped in all the comforts which art can
supply, has condescended to do so. Each passenger
has selected his bed, and made his inquiries for
dinner ; but where is to be your bed — where your
dinner, ye homeless, hapless wanderers — cursed in
your birth-place — whose crime is that you are the
offspring of a doomed land ! a land, beauteous to
the eye, fertile in its resources, yet whose shipless
harbours yawn in hospitality without a guest —
upon whose shores the wild sea howls, and the
angry billows alone unite to break the silence of a
gloomy solitude !
See that father and mother, with their helpless
race of children ; behold them shivering in the
bleak March blast, and now and then submitting
to the spray which dashes over their half-covered
limbs ! That child, squalid and bare, crouching
beneath the mother's scanty rags ; behold her !
She is human — those blue eyes seem to speak
intelligence ; she looks wistfully, beseechingly,
yet modestly. It is for food she asks. Inquire
their little history : it is the history of all.
That father is strong, active, and not deficient in
intelligence. You see he does not want feeling for
those dependant on him ; he has covered the
children with his grey frieze coat, and bears the
falling rain with a manly defiance. Unable to
discharge the heavy imposts of his landlord and

6 IRISH FAMILY.,
the tithe, he has been expatriated ; he has sought
what he imagined was the golden land ; he has
sought the English coast. Prejudice and the poor-
laws have been his unconquerable foes. Employ
ment was nowhere to be found ; and, after a year's
travelling from place to place, during which the
hedge and the sheep hovel have been his only
covering, and the covering of his wife and little
ones, he has at length been found guilty of being
destitute, and condemned to — his native country.
The surly officer, whom you saw speaking to him at
Bristol, was employed to ship him and his family
safely off by the packet. Their sea-store was sup
plied, their passage was paid. The bundle, which
the enduring woman has hanging from her arm,
contains potatoes ; they have been already cooked,
and you will see the father frequently distributing
a portion among his trembling children — God help
them ! But their native land is now in sight. A
joyous exclamation is heard among some — it is
among the cabin passengers. Each runs to gain
a glimpse of land — of Ireland — the place of our
destination. All are pleased, except only the miserable family
whose patient endurance of the long sea passage,
whose hunger the lowest of human food has barely
appeased; — from them, and those who surround
them, no sound of delight is heard. The counte-

VIEW OF IRELAND. 7
nance of the oppressed father, as he shiveringly
looks down upon his children, is marked by a stern
misery; — his native land is indifferent to his view;
it almost excites horror. For him, alas ! and his, no
home is there prepared ; — he has no spot whereon
to lie ! no store, from which the wants of his little
ones shall be supplied ! To him, his native shores
present only the barren rocks of desolation and
despair. This is strange, and its cause is worth
inquiry ; for a cause there must be, why the child
of a free country, able and willing to labour —
asking only the meanest reward for his toil and
zealous exertions — stained by no crime — should
look to that free country, and demand but bread,
yet be refused. There is a cause — a deep and
damning one — " if philosophy could find it out."
The morning broke ; and who that has voyaged
by steam or coach does not shrink at the remem
brance of the peeping morn of March ? The face
of the ocean presents a cold cheerlessness, which
even the sluggish sunrise does not dispel ; its rays
seem rather to render still more visible the ravages
of watchfulness or inebriety. Every face is without
a smile ; the features are paralysed ; even the mind
is benumbed and depressed, and misery looks still
more miserable.
The lower deck of the steamer was the parade of
those who had known no other couch during the

8 THE BRITISH LEGIONER.
night. The wretched family I had before observed
were still crouching under the packages ; the father
standing, in silent suffering, over them !
Among these involuntary watchers I observed a
sprightly and good-looking young man, whose
nether person a pair of soldier's duck trowsers,
and whose upper man a simple white flannel jacket
protected from the searching cold of the breaking
morning. A foraging cap was stuck a, la rnilitaire
on one side of his head. He was determinedly
energetic in his promenade, and bore the inconve
nience of his shght covering and the absence of all
comfort with a cheerful philosophy. I could not
but admire his independent and erect form ; and,
on entering into conversation with him, I soon found
that he had not from habit braved so well the cold
of the past night. On the contrary, he assured
me that he had felt it severely, as he had but lately
arrived from a warmer climate, and did not re
member the necessity of thicker clothing. Perhaps
if his attention had been directed to the probable
severity of the night, and the prudence of provision
against it, it might not have made much difference
in his arrangements, as he happened just then to
be without one farthing in the world, or a single
additional garment. The good humour with which
he made this reply encouraged me to pursue my
inquiries as to his history.

HIS HISTORY. 9
Cf I was tolerably well born, your honour, though
I could not live without work. I did work till I
found rent too high and produce too small to get
on with. I was • noticed;' that is, served with
tythe process for my little ground ; and, rather
than submit to the extortionate villain who had
hired the tythes of the clergyman, whom I had
never seen, and who indeed lived somewhere in
France, I sold what little I possessed and went to
Dublin. Here I found instant employment offered
me, which required me to assist the Queen of Spain,
under General Evans. The terms were easily set
tled, as they were at first all on my own side. We
were promised ten pounds on our arrival in Spain
— a fortune in my own country ; and, in addition
to this liberal donation, there was the prospect of
promotion and other advantages. Of course, I and
the rest never doubted but that all these promises
would be realized ; and with light hearts, little
clothes, and no money, to the number of fifty, we
were shipped from Kingston.
" Our passage was rough, and rougher the fare,
— the captain of the transport declaring that he
had no allowance for provisions on our account;
or, at least, that he doubted whether he should be
ever paid for any. He exhorted us therefore to be
content, and consider ourselves happy in the enjoy
ment of the meagre fare his liberality allowed. I
b5

10 THE BRITISH LEGIONER.
believe all this to have been false — that the cap
tain had received for our provisions a considerable
sum ; but thinking, as I found many have since,
not even excepting your London magistrates, that
our employment was altogether illegal, he would
be justified in cheating us to any extent short of
absolute starvation.
" On our arrival in Spain, we found ourselves
just in time to be sent on picquet duty. Arms
were thrown on our shoulders; — those who had
jackets were well off; as the midnight air, acting
on empty and sea- sick stomachs, as well as on the
uncovered skin, is by no means calculated to awaken
the soul to deeds of heroism.
" However, at four in the morning we were re
lieved, and found good straw in an outhouse pre
pared for our reception. In the morning, the
jacket I now wear, and these trowsers (they are
rather thin) were presented to me, with fourpence
for my day's rations. I now inquired for my ten
pounds bounty. 'This, I was assured, had been
expended for my benefit — that is, it had been ap
plied to the purchase of my clothing and arms ; —
and as, without these, a soldier is nothing, nor
likely to obtain promotion, no objection could be
made to so wise, just, and judicious an outlay.
" Our piece of hardest service was the taking a
fort, well fortified by Don Carlos; and, after a

THE MUTINY. 1 1
sevei'e battle, we were successful. Several of my
fellow recruits fell in this terrible engagement.
The storming lasted several hours, and, during its
continuance, we who were fresh found ourselves
always in the front.
" At last, on returning to the town where our
quarters were assigned, myself and my companions
went (about thirty of us remaining) to the superior
officer ; and, without the least intention of giving
offence or of breaking discipline, inquired for our
rations and pay. We were stopped by a serjeant,
who seemed to have been well enough fed. He
told us that our conduct was disorderly — that our
rations and pay were the same, and would continue
the same, as the Spanish regiments engaged. Now
this pay was fourpence per day, instead of eight-
pence, which we had bargained for on enlistment
at Dublin. We returned to our quarters, and one
and all agreed to lay down our arms.
" I was unfortunate — for my comrades fixed
upon me, being the most learned of the party,
as spokesman on the occasion. Not that they
lacked eloquence when they spoke of their indig
nation at the state of hunger and destitution into
which we had been so unjustly deluded; — nor did
they fail to promise that in all I should say on these
subjects they would with life stand by me. I don't
know how it is — but I somehow think that being

12 THE SPOKESMAN.
spokesman, though a post of honour at the time,
does not always bring any very great advantage
after the occasion has passed by and the object
settled. " Somehow, I think, one is likely to get into
scrapes by being made head man. At all events, I
think it is so in the army, and especially that under
the English General in Spain ; for I found that my
comrades, being chiefly of the lowest order of poor
fellows, soon began to perceive what they did not
perceive when they elected me spokesman — that
fourpence was better than nothing. Certain it is,
they at once yielded to the persuasions of some of
the officers ; while I and ten others, being seized
and manacled by a guard of our own corps, those
who had been the loudest among us in their com
plaints and protestations of perseverance in their
demands were conveyed to prison.
" Prison in England is not much ; — it affords
comfortable lodging, good air, and something to
eat. In fact, to us Irishrnen an English prison is
a tolerable asylum. But a prison in Spain is a
different matter altogether. We were put into
cellars, one quart of meal and water was our food,
no covering of any kind, and nothing but the in
dulgence of the jailor afforded us a little straw.
" In this plight were we left for a whole week ;
till, perhaps, from the representation of the jailor,

THE PUNISHMENT. 13
who must have perceived we could not last long in
that condition, we were visited by a Spanish officer
who spoke English ; and who came, he said, from
her most Christian Majesty the Queen. He was
very well instructed in English. He assured us (a
fact we were before ignorant of) that we had been
guilty of so enormous a crime that nothing but our
lives could atone for it ; but that, in case we were
disposed to make a full confession of our sins, and
humbly sue to her Majesty for pardon, she might
be induced to extend mercy to us.
" Hereupon I told him, without difficulty or he
sitation, (at that moment getting a peep, through
the door which was open, of the beautiful daylight,
and also of some black bread which had been brought
by the officer's attendant) that, on behalf of myself
and fellow- sufferers, I would make any apology her
Majesty pleased ; and that, if she would give us
something to eat, and a chance of getting home to
our native island, there was no kind of sorrow and
repentance which should stop us from either.
" We were liberated, and I was not long in find
ing that the extraordinary grace of her Majesty,
and the kind non-interference of the English Com
mander, who never appeared in the business, were
owing to the exertions of the British Consul, who
had peremptorily demanded our discharge. This
we learned from the English Consul himself, who,

14 THE LEGIONERS' ARRIVAL IN LONDON.
on our discharge, sent for us, expressed his com^
miseration at the plight we were in, and regretted
his inability farther to relieve us than in giving us
fourpence each, and commending us to a merchant
vessel, the captain of which gladly took us to work
our passage home.
" I need say nothing of our voyage. We landed
on the southern coast of England, and were not long
in making our way to London, where we had been
informed our claims would be heard. We had too
much pride to beg ; though, God knows, we needed
all things ; but, in our walk (about fifty miles) we
were upheld with the hope that, by application to
the Spanish Minister, we should obtain our arrears
of pay. Many a morning saw us at his door; but
every one of them saw us also sent off by his ser
vant, who at last threatened prison and the police.
We were still soldiers, and had the pride of soldiers ;
so we would no longer run that risk, though we had
been four days without either food or shelter. I
suppose our appearance — you see I am not too
corpulent now — attracted attention, and a benevo
lent gentleman advised us forthwith to prefer our
demands on the Spanish Ambassador, before a
magistrate ; and he was kind enough to direct us
where to go. We now surely thought all was
right — that we should be relieved and redressed.
We marched in good order into a dark room, where

THE STIPENDIARY MAGISTRATE. 1 5
two elderly gentlemen with bald heads were very
comfortably seated. It was a police office. The
magistrates were not such as we have in Ireland —
Gentlemen appointed to do what they please with
the poor, and who send any man to jail because he
is a Catholic ; — they were regularly paid magis
trates who heard our story. After I had finished,
(for I was still spokesman) I was accosted in a very
angry manner by the most elderly of the two gen
tlemen. — ' What right had you in Spain ? — you
had no business to enlist- — it was wholly illegal,
and we will do nothing for such fellows but this :
send you to the treadmill as rogues and vagabonds.
Officer, if you find any of these fellows in the open
air, after night, take them into custody, and I will
commit them all — turn them out !' "
I could not believe that such language to a band
of injured, starving, and unoffending men could
have been used by a London magistrate. The very
helpless condition of these poor men would and
ought, as I imagined, to have forbidden the gross
perversion of the law against them, if humanity
had no share in the decision. My supposition
was ill-founded; for, on afterwards consulting the
newspapers, I found that this language had been
used — had been passed over without comment —
and that the paid perverter of law was still an
officer of the executive !

16 ARRIVAL AT CORK.
He continued : " I, last night, reached Bristol,
much reduced in pride, as I made no scruple of
begging my way. I slept in an outhouse, not
being desirous of the treadmill, which would have
been my destination if found in the streets. I,
yesterday, got a pass from the mayor to my own
country, having given a solemn promise never
again to return to the free and hospitable shores of
England. I have done with being spokesman, and
return to Ireland still poorer than I left it. Those
are the shores of a land I love, but in which I have
no home ! What I can have to do with that land,
or that land with me, I know not ; — thither the
English law sends me, and there I suppose I must
dwell, if a life of beggary be dwelling. No land
lord will receive me on his estate — no farmer em
ploy me — for they are both overburthened already ;
and to whatsoever district I shall direct my steps,
the answer will still be — ' We cannot support our
own people — go to your native town' — Sir, we are
too many, or have too little to do."
With the advance of day came the splendid views
of coast scenery which everywhere distinguish Ire
land, and especially the entrance to the Cove of
Cork. Iron-bound as this coast is, yet the avenues
which here and there are observable between the
abrupt and occasionally terrific rocks of varied
hues, heightened by the glare of the sun, present

CORK. 17
patches of that deeply verdant surface, the cha
racteristic of the beauteous isle ; and as the rapid
movement of the well-appointed vessel continues to
vary the position, new beauties are as continually
opening. The dashing and roaring of the sea, against the
dark and hollow masses that form the entrance to
the Cove, are distinctly heard ; and now, the sud
denly smooth water informs us that we have entered
the haven ; while the banks on each side, and the
rock itself which opposes its noble front to the angry
ocean, becomes speckled with habitations as it were
of a fairy land, each spot tipped with the brilliancy
of the sun.
Hundreds of boats are seen pressing all canvas
towards the vessel. The coast is lined with inha
bitants, all anxious to know what the majestic mass
now slowly forcing her way up the shallow river
contains. Fathers for their children — children for
their homes — are panting with expectation and
long-anticipated happiness ; and I must add, there
are the multiplied sighs of wretches who have
nought but the dreary prospect of ending their
few remaining days in the land which gave birth
to them and their uninterrupted sorrows.

18 CORK.

CHAPTER II.
Cork — The Harbour — Splendour and Misery — Imperial Hotel —
High Charges — The Assizes — Irish Eloquence — Want of
Dignity and Decorum — Irish Judges and Counsel — An Irish
Case — Mike and the Cows — Theatre at Cork — The Castle
Spectre— r An Acting Manager — An Evening Party — Punch-
drinking — Three-Card Loo and the Ladies — Female Talent
and Accomplishments — Beauty of the Women — Advice to
Sportsmen — Departure from Cork.
" Car, your honour, car ? here ! here is a car,
your honour. Oh, don't be after listening to Mur-
dock, there ! Out of the way, ye spalpeen — sure,
didn't the gentleman spake to me first ? that's my
fare, any how."
Fifty voices at once, from as many ragged good-
tempered fellows who surround the passage leading
from the steamer's side, sufficiently prove that we
have changed the country.
The cars thus numerously offered bear all the
marks of a people who are not impeded in their
progress by any unnecessary attention to outward

CORK. 19
show. The accumulated dust and filth of years
cover the vehicle; and lest there should be any
discrepancy of appearance, the harness, horse, and
man, are all of a colour, and that the natural one
— I mean the colour of the earth, in its most im
palpable form. A sportsman, however, suffers no
annoyance from these accidental changes ; and I
was not long in reaching the hotel at Cork.
It would be unjust not to say any thing of this
splendid city — for splendid it is ; though I cannot
spare much space for the topography of those places
which afford nothing more than the amusements to
be derived from other well-populated and extensive
towns. The harbour is excellent, and is formed by the
embouchure of the river Lee. At first view of the
magnificent range of buildings, one is tempted to
ask if this be the misery of Ireland ? Shops fitted
up in the most attractive style; abundant popu
lation, and all bearing the appearance of the
utmost prosperity — the appearance, I say, and
that is the drawback ; for, though affectedly fine,
the eye cannot fail to rest on the crowds of desolate
creatures, worn by disease or age, who, at every
corner, assail the passer-by for charity.
The Imperial is a good hotel, but partakes of
the characteristics to which I have elsewhere re
ferred. Indeed, generally, the traveller will find

20 CORK.
that, amidst other things which have been adopted
from England, inn-charges have not been forgotten ;
and, if we doubted the extent of any acquaintance
a " maitre d'hotel," in Ireland, may have with
EngUsh civility and attention, it would be at once
conceded, when the bill is presented, that he was
on intimate terms with the book department of
the Clarendon. To be well treated, and charged
unreasonably, may be forgiven, but it is execrable
to be starved and fleeced ; and, although " marble
chimney-pieces, not expressly mentioned in the bill,
inflame it most confoundedly" — it is mortifying
to find the swelling exist, where the marble chim
ney-piece does not.
Cork, on my arrival, was in an excited state ;
the assizes had just commenced, and I lost no time
in making my way to the court-house, anxious to
hear some of that extravagant eloquence, for
which the Irish bar is so celebrated.
On my entrance, I was at once struck by the
apparent want of decorum of the scene. Nothing
can be more offensive to an English lawyer, than
that absence of dignity and order, which is every
where observable in a court of justice in Ireland.
The counsel, wigless, gownless — without any mark
whereby they could be distinguished from at
torneys, visiters, witnesses, or thieves ; but all
appeared huddled together round the judge, who,

CORK. 21
in a plain scratch, looks common-place enough.
There is a familiarity among all parties that
would startle the pride of an English lawyer, and
may have led to the Milesian joke, of a suitor
stopping the judge, on his way to the court-house,
and imploring him " to do justice in his favour."
Something has been said of Irish eloquence.
I had an opportunity, here, of judging of the style
which seems to have been universally adopted by
the bar of this country. There is no difficulty in
perceiving that it differs from that which the
calmer feelings of the English, and the phlegmatic
constitution of our juries, have fostered. The
mercurial temperament, and naturally romantic
tone, which are generally ascribed to the Irish
character, pervade even the common-place matters
of mere legal considerations. It is not impossible
that the ornamental flourishes, adopted in such
disquisitions, may be designed to cover ignorance
of the abstract question, or to hide errors in prac
tice. Nor are the Irish alone in that.
I believe no persons in the world are more con
stitutionally addicted to ideality than the Irish ;
and, when the superiority of their country is the
subject, the warmth of conviction which they
evince shows how little they stop to examine, how
little disposed they are, to let reason have her in
fluence. It has been said, that this devotion to the

22 CORK.
imaginative produces, not unfrequently, great
errors among gentlemen who have been induced to
leave their native isle. So far, indeed, has the
power of fancy not unfrequently carried them, that
they at last have arrived at the conviction of their
being possessed of estates, the fee simple of which
existed nowhere but in their own productive minds.
However the imagination may be cultivated by
the bar in Ireland, it is quite certain that among
the laity nothing seems to excite more ingenuity
than litigation ; nor is it uncommon to find, among
the lower orders, although utterly ignorant of all
other things, some who are adepts in the art of
legal quibbling. It was my lot to hear one case
tried at the assizes, at Cork. The corollary I after
wards learned. Patrick O'Sullivan sued Mike
Moriarty for the value of three cows, sold to Mike
during the lifetime of the plaintiff's (O'Sullivan's)
father. To the declaration, stating that Mike had
had the cows, Mike could offer no plea. True it
was that Mike had had the cows — true he had
killed them, or sold them, or eaten them — but by
no means under contract of debt; and yet a
defence, under the circumstances, would have been
impossible. Mike took advice, and let the action go by de
fault. But the facts were amusing, if not quite
creditable to the plaintiff's morality. O'Sullivan,

CORK. 23
during his father's life, had stolen the cows, and
bartered with Mike to kill and sell them, allowing
him (the stealer) certain profits and certain por
tions. These were paid. Lamentations, deep and
loud, were made by the elder O'Sullivan, for the
loss of his cows, which had been his chief fortune
and support. He published hand-bills for their
recovery, but no cows came back.
None joined in the pursuit of the culprit with
more apparent ardour than the son of the loser.
The old man died. He bore his loss hardly, and
perhaps his death was hastened by the grief arising
from it. Whereupon the son, now heir, brought his
action for the recovery of the value of the cows, well
knowing that recrimination was impossible on the
part of the defendant, who paid the money, and
who declareth on the oath of an honest Irishman,
that Patrick O'Sullivan is the greatest rogue 'tween
Donaghadee and Tig na Vauria.
Cork has a theatre, which, being open during
the assizes, led me to contemplate the state of the
histrionic art in the sister isle. The play was the
Castle Spectre, and it was somewhat droll to hear
the broad Irish accent with which the old English
Baron expressed his loves and his dream. He was
a man of about four feet, either way ; and if you
had put him on his side, he would have acted with
as much locomotion and agility.

24 CORK.
I inquired who the Roscius was, and by what
accident he was pressed into the service of the first
Tragedy. The answer was satisfactory — the same
vanity exists here as in other places. — The old
English Baron was enacted by the Manager !
Let me do justice to the hospitality of my Cork
friends, to whom I had letters of introduction. One
whom I had not the pleasure to find at home, but
for whom I left my letter, sent down to my inn a
warm request that I would join the evening party,
which he expected that day at his house.
The invitation was so warm and unaffected that
I accepted it, and was introduced to about forty
gentlemen, who were not, as would be said at
Oxford, wining, but punching. It was true I had
greatly the advantage of this party, in having tem
perately taken my quiet dinner alone. The sudden
transition from the ennui and gloomy loneliness
in which an Englishman "abroad" is inclined to
indulge, to a noisy, joyous party, who had advanced
already to the fourth tumbler, will be supposed to
have been productive of some impression ; and,
when I entered, I found the glasses jingling from
violent blows on the table : the party, one and all,
having arrived at that method of expressing their
approbation of a speech which had just been
delivered. " Hurra ! bravo ! sir — glorious country where

CORK. 25
the whiskey is the only drink ! — let me entreat you
— not a headache in a hogshead — most happy to
see English gentlemen in Ireland — we want but
free intercourse to set aside all prejudices."
"Who says we stand in need of intercourse?
Sir, no offence to you — you are an Englishman,
proud of your country — we are Irishmen, and, till
the English learn to drink whiskey instead of the
miserably washy wine, there can be no intercourse,
and the union must be dissolved."
" Union dissolved ! " exclaimed another voice.
" By the powers, when I see that day I'll not be
alive!" " Alive or dead, you'll soon see the day ! O'Con
neli for ever ! who says no ? "
" O'Conneli for ever ! " was re-echoed through
the room. The very name was sufficient to set all
in an uproar. Our host now proposed an adjourn
ment; but the subject was not to be so passed;
agitation had begun, and this was the signal.
Every man had his opinion on the subject, and
every man thought he had a right to express it,
and exhibited the utmost impatience to do so.
The whiskey was now mixed, and disposed of
in greater haste ; it was evident the row would
begin ; five or six gentlemen were at once on their
legs, all speaking at the extent of their voices, and
each appearing impressed with the notion that he
VOL. I. C

26 CORK.
was the only party commanding attention. Glasses
began to dance, chairs to slip from under their dis
putants, and, amid the complete uproar, I could
only distinguish these facts — that O'Conneli was
the greatest villain alive, and the only prop and
stay of his country !
Cards were handed across, — till our host opened
the door, and in the loudest tone invited the gentle
men to the drawing-room. Many followed : and
there we found the ladies, deeply engaged in the
mysteries of three-card loo, and indeed with toler
able stakes. There were no introductions or cere
monies, nor did the gentle part of the audience
feel at all disturbed by the riot which occasionally,
as the door was opened, burst on our ears.
I was seriously alarmed, and expressed my feel
ings to my host, who assured me that twenty
gentlemen would in all probability exchange cards,
yet that was a ceremony which was too common
.to be alarming, and too harmless to be fraught
with any considerable consequences. " In fact,"
said he, " out of a hundred challenges we find few
duels ; the gentlemen are only desirous of proving
the truth of their positions, and nothing can tend
so satisfactorily to do so as the passing of a card.
With the whiskey the ardour will evaporate, and
the same parties will meet again to-morrow, in all
probability with a Uke result."

CORK. 27
On our entrance into the drawing-room there
was no appearance of alarm among the ladies.
Every accomplishment was there in requisition,
which the riotousness of the party from the dining-
room did not interrupt or disturb. We are de
ceived by the representation of those who have
attempted to depict the manners of the Irish fair.
Although my rambles did not afford me many
opportunities of testing my opinion, yet those that
did occur to me confirm me in the belief that Irish
ladies are generally more accomplished, and ex
hibit more talent in acquirement than may generally
be found among the English higher classes. Their
manners are gentle and unaffected, with a dash
of hilarity which renders them infinitely more
fascinating. They are beautiful to a proverb ; and
it is not true that the moment your eye rests on a
lady, she immediately responds — "port, if you
please" — nor that the second look induces the de
claration that " she will ask papa."
Cork must be set down, upon the whole, as the
most flourishing town in Ireland. Its buildings,
especially those residences on the banks of the
river towards the island caUed the Cove, are in
EngUsh taste, and bespeak close connection with
the sister country. The continual intercourse, now
established by means of steam-packets, has tended
greatly to improve the taste and manners of the
C2

28 CORK.
inhabitants of aU those towns situated on the
EngUsh side ; and although much may be found
to admire in this city, it must be observed that it
still exhibits all the prosperity and wretchedness,
all the elegance and the squaUd poverty, which
seem every where associated in Irish towns.
I here purchased my tackle. I recommend the
angler to choose a good tie rod, and a large reel
that wiU contain 150 yards of stout hemp Une, well
twisted. It should be soaked in oil and bees' wax,
well melted ; then stretched and reeled. The cost of
this, which is the only line fit for use among the
rocky rivers he will have to traverse, will be one
shilling. Select, also, in Cork, a few flies of
various sizes and colours, which will be found well
made and of the right kind. With these, a good
gun, a pound of the best tobacco (the most ac
ceptable return that can be made for the civiUty of
a mountaineer), I took coach to Macroom, a dis
tance of thirty miles.

MACROOM. 29

CHAPTER III.
Start from Cork — Wild Character of the Country — An Irish Coach
man — Sporting Prospects — Warning to Improvers — Pike versus
Salmon — Arrival at Macroom — Ominous Demonstrations — A
False Alarm — Inn Accommodations — An Irish Waiter —
Extravagant Charges — Poverty and Desolation — Taste for
Mud — Commencement of Operations — A Native Sportsman —
Irish Blarney — Directions for Trolling — Incomparable Bait.

From Cork, 27 miles; from Killarney, 28 miles; from Mill
Street, 11 miles.
Fishing stations, Lake Inchgeelah, 5 miles; and the rivers
Toom, Lee — the latter running close by the town.
A km ed with all the appliances of sport, I
mounted the coach from Cork to Macroom. The
ride presented a desolate country, composed alter
nately of bog and rocky mountain, with little wood,
which becomes less and less as the journey is pur
sued into the interior of the country. Even one
mile from Cork, no trace appears of the neighbour
ing refinement. Poverty of the extremest kind is
exhibited in habitations scarcely one degree above

30 THE IRISH COACHMAN.
the damp cave of the wild beast ; furze being used
for doors, and turf for the roof. Here and there
a soUtary and staring creature, half of whose body
is covered with a mass of rags, which are blown
about, by the wind — the other half perfectly un
covered — leads the traveller to imagine that he
has taken some sudden leap from all that is
civilized into a new and hitherto undiscovered
country. No inn on the road breaks the monotony
of the scene, or relieves the gloominess of the way.
The coachman, with a large glazed hat, a home
made whip, and blue sailor's jacket, is the only
person who interrupts the depressed tone which
the mind is apt, under such circumstances, to as
sume. He indeed keeps up a continual conversa
tion with his horses — reasons with them — threatens
them. " Ah, by the powers ! — come up there now
— d'ye start at that! — faith you've seen it before,
many a-day. — Ah ! ah ! there I caught you — don't
be too forgiving now — bear malice agin me, and
remember it. — Ah ! you're too forgiving, any way
— catch a glimpse o' that, ye spalpeens — come
along here now — faith you'U have a stop at the
rise." The road follows the river Lee for some miles,
and then crosses the river Bride, a tributary to the
Lee. Although the latter river does not present
any chance of good trout-fishing, the Bride, which

SPORTING PROSPECTS. 31
is of a more declivous character, will repay the
angler, especially if he watches the opportunity of
rainy weather.
Owen's Inn wiU be found a tolerable station for
the Bride ; though I should not advise any length
ened stay at any place short of Killarney, as all the
streams are of an uncertain character, and require
to be visited at the exact moment to ensure success
— I mean the subsiding of a flood. The beauty of
this river consists in its varied falls — some of ten
or fifteen feet ; but the country through which it
flows has the air of terrible desolation. Here and
there may be observed patches of corn ; but the
general view presents little but bog and mountain.
But, to the sportsman, the wildness of the moun
tains — the unhedged expanse, on which nothing
appears but the thinly scattered cots of the humble
labourer — the sparkling and rapid river, now
sullenly smooth, now dashing down precipices and
dividing its streams into deep and gurgling eddies
— inspire feelings of delightful anticipation.
The river Lee, into which the Bride falls, was
once highly celebrated for its fine trout and salmon.
Now, alas ! it swarms with pike ; the salmon have
greatly diminished, and trout have become almost
extinct. It is remarkable that, as yet, the whole county
of Kerry, to which we are progressing, does not

32 PIKE.
contain a single pike ; and, tiU within these twenty
years, there was not one known in the noble river
Lee. Its source, the Lake Inchgeelah, is a noble
expanse of water, and was once the resting-place
of immense shoals of salmon, and white trout.
Latterly they have disappeared, and from a cause
which should, and I trust will, operate as a warn
ing to all who live in the neighbourhood of rivers
not yet infested with the destructive pike. The
injury done to the inhabitants of this part of the
country, — through whose property flows the river
Lee, once so prolific in excellent food, and from
whose wild waters even the poorest could once
make an easy addition to their humble meal, — is
irreparable. It appears that a gentleman who had
built a house on its banks, not far from Cork, among
other ornaments sunk a pool, which discharged
itself into the river. Not content with the abun
dant supply of salmon and trout which the stream
afforded, he was desirous of surprising his neigh
bours by the possession of a fish until then unknown
in this part of the country. With a view of obtain
ing this distinction, he sent for some pike, which
with great difficulty were brought fifty miles, and
placed in his despicable pond. The natural con
sequence ensued : the banks, during a flood, gave
way, and the pike were at once precipitated into
the river. Here food was so abundant amidst

FREEDOM TO THE ANGLER. 33
the trout and young salmon, that, since this acci
dent, such has been the increase of pike, that they
now occupy every hole in the Lee. The troller,
however, may find good sport, and it is not the
least recommendation of this river that its banks
are open to all comers ; so that, from Lake Inch
geelah, a distance by the river of fifty-six miles,
there will be found no obstruction to the humblest
sportsman. In following this river down, the only difficulty
would be the want of accommodation, which could
only be procured in the wretched cabins of the
peasantry near the road, which crosses and re-crosses
the river many times between Cork and Macroom.
It is not now unusual to find pike of from thirty
to forty pounds weight in the least frequented
parts, — in the long reaches, or wherever the fall of
the stream is sluggish.
The rising smoke in that low corner of the open
ing valley now warns us of our approach to our
station, Macroom. The cabins become more nume
rous along the side of the road, though not better
in their construction. On approaching the town,
we had attracted one or more of the inmates of
every cabin ; and, by the time we had entered the
town, we had an escort of at least two thousand
persons, men, women, and children, who had col
lected by degrees as the coach passed. I was
C5

34 OMINOUS DEMONSTRATION.
somewhat alarmed at the assembly, which increased
at every yard of our progress. The moment the
sound of the coach was heard, out poured the inha
bitants of every cabin.
On our entering the broad, open space, in the
middle of the town, the crowd closed on us, and
nothing could be seen but a sea of heads. English
and Irish exclamations were heard in a confused
yell. — " Come out, ye spalpeen — oh, the devil's
luck to ye, and we got ye any how." Hundreds
of ragged, though strong and handsome fellows
pressed forward, through the screaming crowd, to
the coach doors, and threw them open, with an
apparent determination of violence that could not
but alarm an EngUsh traveller. Luckily, I was
outside, or I should have imagined myself the
object of the pursuit. When I crept from the roof,
and forced my way into the inn, which I accom
plished with some difficulty, I was soon informed
of the cause of the uproar. There had been a
murder committed some time before, from that
exhaustless source of blood and violence, in this
unhappy country, the collection of tithes. A
policeman had deliberately shot one of the mob,
which had assembled to watch the proceedings of
the proctor's constables. He had been arraigned
at the assizes at Cork, the day before, and acquitted.
It was expected by the populace that he would re-

FALSE ALARM. 35
turn this day to Macroom, by the coach ; and had
he done so, it is not difficult to imagine the fate
that would have awaited him. Peaceable as the
crowd was, had the object of their assembling
appeared flushed with the victory of an acquittal,
the market-place of Macroom would have been
strewed with his limbs. When, however, the
crowd was satisfied that the delinquent was not on
the coach, they graduaUy dispersed, without any
disposition to riot. . I was assured that there was
no apprehension on the part of the inhabitants of
the town, notwithstanding the extraordinary as
semblage of so many, and so apparently lawless
a mob. In the madness of their revenge, the
Irish seldom commit wanton mischief; and their
most violent and lawless assemblages are always
unaccompanied by the uncalled-for injuries whicli
too often are the result of English crowds. They
have a wild love of justice, which pervades even
their acts of greatest intemperance.
I was not at first aware that in this town very
tolerable private lodgings might have been pro
cured, and, unluckily, I established my quarters at
the inn — = I say, unluckily ; for, though I found
some accommodation, it was not of an order which
kept pace with the magnificence of the charges.
The traveller must not expect to find at any of the
inns, out of the principal towns, such inordinate

36 INN-ATTENTION.
luxuries as carpets ; he may, however, reckon
pretty confidently on finding a red-headed monster,
shoeless, stockingless, and capless, acting the part
of a waiter — one who will hold back her matted
locks to give her eyes a chance with one hand,
while she hands you, between her thumb and
finger, whatever edible you may demand, perfectly
good-tempered, and wondering what can possibly
ail the stranger who is surrounded, as she conceives,
by every earthly luxury.
In consequence of the frequent visits of regi
ments, especially during the war, there happened
to have been provided for the officers some decent
apartments. These, the sportsman who determines
to take a week on this station, should secure ;
though he must take care to do here what he
should do throughout Ireland — drive a good bar
gain ; for so impressed are all the " parvi mer-
catores" of this country with a belief in the
exhaustless wealth of the English, that no scruples
restrain the violence of their inordinate expectations.
The appearance of poverty and desertion which
the town presents is much heightened by the
neglect of those whose means are not doubtful. It
will be found the characteristic of almost every Irish
town, nay, of almost every mansion, that time and
mischief are suffered to do their worst ; nothing is
ever repaired. Even in weU and substantially

TASTE FOR MUD. 37
built houses, every second pane of glass has given
way to a board nailed across the window, or a still
more offensive paper patching. Bricks, or stones,
or tiles, as they fall from the piles of buildings,
which really would constitute a handsome range, if
in repair, are suffered to remain where fortune
may place them, till the wheels of the heavy carts
crush them into the dust and mud which no muni
cipal law controls. This latter is not offensive to
the inhabitants ; on the contrary, they seem to
enjoy the softness of it, as all the female part of
the population and the children are shoeless ; and
it is observable that they always choose the softest
and deepest mass of mud, in which to crowd to
gether for their mutual salutations or disquisitions.
The smoke, which many years of turf-fire has sup
plied, has contributed greatly to the dingy desola
tion of the general appearance. Whitewash would
set all right; but, though the lime- stone may be
had for the fetching, the habits of the people
appear inveterate, and the suggestion of the im
provement it would make is met by a stare of
happy independence.
These particulars are stated more in the way of
description than complaint. I would give nothing
for the society of that sportsman who could view
the wild freedom of this country, and complain of
the coarseness of his fare.

38 A NATIVE SPORTSMAN.
While thus attended by the red-headed girl, who
understands not a word of English, and while the
bacon and potatoes, unaccompanied, smoke on the
board, let the remembrance of the wild rivers and
mountains come to the sportsman, and furnish the
rest. In traversing them, he will find no " Take
Notice," in a walk of three hundred miles !
Mine host informed me that there was but one
man in the town who knew any thing of fishing ;
and at my request he was sent for, as I had re
solved to begin operations forthwith.
By the time I had finished my humble repast, the
native sportsman was announced. One glance was
enough to show that Owen was a character — a mild,
humble, and amiable one — of intelligence beyond
his station, and in which much of native indepen
dence of spirit was blended. His form was singu
larly emaciated ; and I at once learned that he lived
in a secluded manner, with a bed-ridden mother,
whom nothing could induce him to desert. He had
never been known to submit to any kind of employ
ment ; though, during the cold months, it had been
frequently a matter of surprise that he continued to
support himself by the rod. Sometimes, indeed, in
the depth of winter, he has been known to take
salmon from the river Lee ; and although his frame
had little more of substantiality than the coarse
rod which was his companion, he often walks from

PLAN OF OPERATIONS. 39
thirty to forty miles a day ; and a happy day for
him is that which brings to his companionship a
fellow- sportsman.
Of Owen I inquired the locale. His history of
the river Lee was much that which I have given it.
He shed tears, after a glass or two of whiskey, over
the failing salmon, in consequence of the increase
of pike ; and we settled to commence operations
the next morning at an early hour. Our plan was
to be provided with pike tackle, as well as for trout
and salmon, and to take with us a boy who should
carry the gun, and accompany us to the Lake Inch
geelah. I kept him with me the whole evening,
while he produced for my inspection what he called
his colours, which were bundles of feathers. These
were his treasures — the mine, whence he drew all
that he enjoyed — and nothing could exceed the
dexterity with which he manufactured a singularly
coarse, but, upon the whole, effective imitation of
large flies.
After having listened to his instructions as to the
colour, if the day was dark — the falls, in which
we might expect to find fish — and the best way of
meeting the river across the Toom Bridge (about
three miles from the town) — I astonished him by
my declaration that I held all his apparatus in the
most supreme contempt : that if there were salmon
and trout in the river, I would undertake to offer

40 TROLLING.
him any bet that I would exceed his skill, either
measuring by number or weight, provided he ad
hered to his flies ; — nay, that he should choose his
ground, and I would follow him up the river.
His astonishment soon gave way to an incredu
lous smile. Yet the mildness of his character, and
the natural genius for flattery (which requires not
the aid of the blarney-stone to develop) inherent
in Milesian constitutions — and which especially
pervades the lower classes — restrained him from
any contradiction. " To be sure and it is not for
the likes of me to doubt your honour — your honour
knows right well how to catch fish — and I'd be
sorry and grieved to think I'd do more than your
honour's honour — but, may be, I know the river
where the fish lie ; and perhaps, by chance, I'd
bate your honour any how without intinding it at
all at all — but your honour knows best."
I now told him I relied not on flies, and at once
produced my trolling apparatus.
As this book is to be read by sportsmen, and as
much of the amusement I derived in this tour is at
tributable to a kind of angling utterly unknown in
Ireland, and I believe little understood in England,
I shall once for all describe, as I did to my in
credulous friend Owen, the means I adopt. The
fullest explanation may perhaps be excused; be
cause, without some patient trials, in which the

INCOMPARABLE BAIT. 41
angler may meet disappointment, the real supe
riority of bait angling may not be achieved. But
the art once acquired, the whole genus of the
salmon, even down to the sparling, is at the com
mand ofthe sportsman. He defies even the weather,
and meets all the difficulties of the longest drought
by a more astute mode only of presenting the lure.
The rod should be about twenty feet, running
tackle ; and, at the end of the line, use eight or
ten feet of fine gut — Hook No. 3 or 4. Load the
gut with split shot, according to the power of the
stream, always remembering that the bait must be
carried down at the bottom of the stream — that
bait is the roe of the salmon. It is prepared by
Scotsmen, who take the salmon in November, for
the purpose of securing the spawn. The receipt
for preserving it is as follows : —
Take the full roe of a salmon, wash it carefully
from all particles of blood, and then separate the
grains : when this has been carefully done, pour
over the whole a strong brine, made of common
salt and salt petre, equal parts, and let it remain
six hours ; then drain it thoroughly, and place the
whole in a slow oven, till it assumes a toughness.
Then pot the whole down, so as to exclude the air,
and it is fit for use.
On the production of my store, Owen expressed
his surprise at the clear scarlet of its colour ; but

42 APPOINTMENT.
he still doubted its efficacy in Irish rivers. Ap
pointing, therefore, our meeting for five in the
morning, my red-headed ancilla led the way to
my half-glazed apartment.

ADVICE TO SPORTSMEN. 43

CHAPTER IV.
Advice to Sportsmen — Mode of Conveyance — An Irish Pony and
his Food — Delight of the First Cast — Failure and Success —
Irish Astonishment — An Irish Sign — Native Hospitality — A
Sportsman's Dinner — Natural Magic — Lake Inchgeelah — Di
rections for Fishing in this Lake — Hints to Anglers and Sports
men in general — Character of the Kerry Peasantry — An Invi
tation to Dinner — Irish Servants — An odd Establishment —
An Irish Kitchen — Irish Hospitality — Wine and the Ladies —
Whiskey and the Gentlemen — An Irish Dinner Party — The
Sporting Major — Longbow-ism — An Irish Angler's Exploit —
Sporting Extraordinary — A Dance — Prospective Sport with
the Major.
At five o'clock my mercury was with me. The
excitement of the new country, and the wildness
and irregularity of aU I had seen, had so hung on
my imagination, that I had slept little ; I was
ready, therefore, at his caU ; the pony and chaise,
which I had bought at Cork, and ordered to be sent
on to me at Macroom, had arrived, and was led to
the door.
Ere we start, let me advise every sportsman to
adopt this mode of conveyance. A mountain pony,

44 CONVEYANCE.
with a light gig, will supply aU the wants of post-
horses, which, excepting in the beaten tracks, are
hardly to be found. The mode, too, of feeding an
Irish pony, namely, on potatoes, is convenient, as
they may be had at all cottages ; and the animal
thrives greatly on them.
I found Owen had neither scrip nor staff. His
long rod over his shoulder, and his gaff strapped
on his back, a short pipe and a tobacco-pouch,
were all the store he had prepared to face the
blast of a March morning. The wind blew and
the torrents descended ; but what were wind and
rain to us? they constitute the fisherman's fine
weather, and amidst these mountains there was
little other.
After a drive of three miles, we resigned the gig
to a staring mountaineer, who was directed by my
companion, in Irish, to take it to Inchgeelah Lake,
and there await our arrival. I shall not soon forget
the feeling of delight with which I ran across the
bog that intervened between the road and the dark
and dashing river, to take my first cast in so wild a
stream. Owen had already commenced for salmon, while
I elected to troll for pike. For this purpose I had
procured a small samlet. Mile after mile did we
trudge, sometimes stopped by bog, and compelled
to journey round — no traces of former footsteps to

THE FIRST SEA- TROUT. 45
direct our course, yet uncheered by a rise or a run.
We at length arrived at a waterfall, where once,
in happier times, had stood a mill. Here I changed
my tackle, and adopted the roe ; convinced that if
there were trout in the stream, they assuredly would
be found in a spot so congenial to their habits.
Weary with my walk, and the fatigue of trolling,
I threw down my rod with my line at length in the
eddy, and was watching the success of Owen's casts
with the fly. " Hurrah \" exclaimed he, " your ho
nour's rod is clear gone entirely."
I had just time to catch the butt, which was
slowly moving on the edge of the stream, and lifted
it upwards. It was fast at the bottom — it cleared
— and up sprang a fine sea-trout of four pounds
weight, fresh run from the sea, by the silvery
whiteness of his scales. With some difficulty we
landed him ; but who shaU describe the aghast ex
pression of my companion's countenance ? It was
clear he had imagined my infalUble bait was some
delusion of my own ; nothing that I had said of its
virtue had made the sUghtest impression on his
mind. Regarding me, while he held the fish in his
right hand, with a stare of astonishment and won
der, he at last burst forth — " Your honour's a
fisherman any way — your honour has got the power
of bewitchment — the likes was niver seen in Ire
land. Faith it's a fresh run ; the devil a fly they'U

46 COTTAGERS OF INCHGEELAH.
touch to-day ; hurrah, but your honour's a fisher
man." Recovered from his surprise, we pushed our way
upwards towards the source of the river Lee and
the lake Inchgeelah. The route was in the highest
degree picturesque, though theanorning was cloudy,
with occasional rain. Owen had succeeded in
taking one salmon, and myself three sea-trout.
At length we arrived at what is called " the pub
lic," a smaU cottage, with a piece of turf dangling at
the door, to indicate to the initiated that, if nothing
else at least, good potheen might he had there. It
was situated on the edge of the lake. The only
neighbours were two policemen, whose station was
also on the banks of this neglected and almost un
known expanse of waters.
The lake is about five miles in length, and vary
ing from one to three in breadth. A few straggling
cabins may be seen under the surrounding rocks,
whose inhabitants were of the most destitute order.
Into whatever cottage or cabin we entered, how
ever, the proprietors were all civil, and anxious to
oblige the stranger. The feeling of hospitaUty is
indigenous. The turf fire was instantly made up ;
the kettle — the only article of cookery, and almost
of furniture — was immediately suspended ; the
potatoes washed; and the wooden platter pre
pared.

THE LAKES. 47
Our mountain walk had made these preparations
acceptable. The trout were soon split and scored,
and laid across the now clear turf ; and they fur
nished an excellent meal.
The conversation between Owen and the listeners
was conducted in Irish, and, although I could de
tect that I was the chief subject of it, I was not
quite aware that the superstitious feelings of my
companion had literally induced him to represent
that there must have been some magic in the
mode of taking the sea-trout. The men examined
my tackle, looked cautiously at me, and seemed to
be impressed with some suspicions. The arrival,
however, of the policeman , who, I had understood,
was the only fisherman of the lake, and who spoke
English, relieved me from all further embarrass
ment. Inchgeelah Lake is romantic, and in the highest
degree beautiful. It is the recipient of another
range of lakes, situated about five miles from the
spot I am now describing, but into which no pike
can ascend. The upper lake, therefore, which is
laid down as Lake Alua, is filled with trout, not
large, but of singular beauty and flavour. The
lower lakes present no other sport than may be had
from trolling and night-lines.
So simple and poor are the wretched inhabitants
of the banks, that they have not the means of

48 PIKE.
adding to their deficient food by fishing. Not even
a boat has yet graced the broad expanse of the
lake. I found that the policeman was furnished with
a rod, which he now produced, and we sallied
forth to adopt a mode of trolling that has been
very little used in English water. As we were
obliged to fish from the banks, it is no doubt the
most effectual way ; though, if this water had been
furnished with a boat, trailing would constitute
excellent sport. The mode to which I allude is
trolling with a fly. It is thus made : on the largest
sized pike-hook bind round coarse worsted of light
and gaudy colours, and with the two eyes of pea
cock's feathers for wings, the whole bound on to
strong whipcord, cast with the wind, and jag the
fly along the surface.
In this way we were all successful, and had the
pleasure of presenting our entertainers at the
cottage with three or four very fine fish, resolving
to carry the rest home. The sport, however, is
not exciting. The pike is a dull fish, and, though
he will sometimes run very freely, it may happen
a dozen times that he wiU not stir, however tempt
ing the lure.
This spot presents varied fishing : the river, for
salmon and trout; the Lake Inchgeelah, for pike ;
and the upper lake, for fly-fishing, for trout of a

STATION FOR FISHING. 49
sma.Uer kind. If accommodation could be had at
the "public " — which, indeed, might be managed,
by sending thither some little furniture — a short
time might be very delightfully spent in these
wilds. It should not be forgotten, also, that the
wild fowl are numerous in the autumn and winter
— that the whole district is free as air to the
sportsman — and that there is not the least appre
hension justly to be entertained of any violence
from the inhabitants. Their manners here, as
throughout Kerry, wiU be found obUging and
amiable ; and let me observe, in common justice,
that whatsoever representations it may please cer
tain political bawlers to make, or cause to be made,
against the general subordination of the peasantry,
it should be remembered that the calumny is
uttered against those who have no means of re
butting it. In fact, I believe a more peaceful and
inoffensive race does not exist, than that inha
biting the county of Kerry.
On our arrival at Macroom, I found an invitation
to dine with a gentleman in the neighbourhood,
and immediately despatched- Owen with the fish,
and a note, containing my acceptance of the
invitation. It would amuse an EngUshman, who, for the first
time, dines at the table of a genuine Irish family,
to contemplate the immense profusion of the sub-
VOL. I. D

50 DINNER.
stantials, and the droU appearance the servants
cut, fresh from the stable, in their masters old
clothes. As one passes through the passage to the
drawing-room, it is not unusual to see four or five
shoeless and stockingless women, with their hair
over their eyes and faces, flying before you, into
the dirt holes, caUed, in this country, kitchens.
These are helps for the occasion, and are reinforce
ments, generaUy drawn from the neighbouring
cottages. One turns a spit, the other sits by the
fire to blow the turf; one smokes a pipe over the
ragouts, while a fourth looks on — it being an ac
knowledged principle, that it will require five times
as many women servants in Ireland as in England
to do a given quantity of work.
In general, a dinner at the house, as any respect
able domicile is termed, is a day of rejoicing and
jubilee. Every cottager on the estate claims pri
vilege to offer suit and service, and if he can assist
no one, or his services are not accepted, he can
ever avail himself of the old request, viz., to light
his pipe — which he not only lights, but smokes in
the kitchen — into which, if by any wrong turn
you should unhappily chance to put your nose, so
vile a compound of viUanous smells would assail
you as would effectuaUy damage the ardour of
your mastication.
It is fair to do justice to the Irish in their feasts.

THE COMPANY. 51
They mean to be hospitable, and deem excessive
profusion of edible matter the greatest proof of
that intention. Unwilling, however, that you
should lose that idea by any desultory succession,
the whole is crammed on the table at once, without
any regard to order or consistency; of wines,
nothing is known. It is true, wine is placed on
the table, as a matter of form, to amuse the ladies,
who, indeed, are the only persons who do not treat
it with negligence. But the instant the loads are
removed from the table, a tumbler and wine-glass,
together with a smaU jug of hot water, are placed
before each gentleman. In the middle of the table
are two glass flaggons, each containing about a gal
lon of whiskey, and every one proceeds to use, what
are significantly termed (par exceUence) " the ma-
tarials." Then commences the true Irish ebullition
of feeling. No sooner are "the matarials" pro
duced, than, as by a sudden inspiration, those who
had previously been restrained and silent, at once
conceive that they have patriotism and sense, and
are determined to prove that position.
On my arrival at the house, I found the company
to consist of the host, an hospitable and kind one —
Major K  , who, I believe, in compUment to
myself, had been invited, as he was a thorough
fisherman — the priest of the parish — an Irish
barrister — and a couple of those young gentlemen
D 2

52 THE MAJOR'S EXPLOITS.
who may pass for any thing ; they were, however,
I believe, in this instance, law students.
On our introduction, I learned soon from the
major, that he had been, since the battle of
Waterloo, resident as a fisherman at Killarney.
It did not require much to discover, from himself,
that his funds were restricted to the aUowance of
the government, which, with aU his soul, he de
tested, or, that he had told stories of his exploits
in the art of fishing, tiU he absolutely himself
believed them. It was difficult to reconcile the
perfect honesty of his character with the broad
assertions he made ; nor was there even apparent
in his manner, while so making them, the least
distrust of credence ; he took it for granted that
every man believed what he would indubitably
have upheld, at the risk of life, had it been
doubted. The priest was the only man who dared
to ask if the major was sure of any thing; and, to
him, the reply was, "Do you question it? By
my sowl, and the blood of the K's, it never was
doubted before ! There was that affair of the
salmon : Lord V  told me, that, if any other
man had told the story, he wouldn't believe it.
I sent my friend to him, Father, and he acknow
ledged that he believed every word of it." Then,
turning to me, " You may do as you like, sir ; you
are an EngUshman, and know Uttle of Irish fishing.

THE MAJOR'S EXPLOITS. 53
By the powers, you'll lam what it is to be a sports
man !"
" Hear the major," says the priest ; " he'll tell
the story."
" By the sowl of me, and I'll teU it any how."
" Tell it right, major."
" Is there a man would say that to me but your
own good-looking self, now, Father ? "
I begged to hear the story.
" You must beheve it," said the priest.
" And who doesn't ?" said the major, gulping
down his third tumbler of punch, and slamming the
glass on the table. Then, turning to me — " Sir,
every body knows the fact — I caught a hare and a
salmon at one cast of the fly ! "
" Oh, Benedicite," says the priest.
" None of your holy bother, now, Father. I'm
after relating to the gentleman this remarkable
adventure. Give me the matarials."
The needful was soon prepared ; and the
major, directing his conversation exclusively to
me, proceeded to say that, while fishing in the Lee,
not far from Macroom, he saw a fine fish rise
under the opposite bank. He immediately drew
out his Une, so as to enable him by a cast to reach
the exact spot. He had previously put on two
large flies, such as are commonly used for salmon
in high water. He drew back the line which

54 THE DOUBLE CAST.
would extend thirty or forty yards behind him.
On endeavouring to make the cast, he found he
had, as fishermen caU it, "hitched behind." At
this moment the salmon rose again in the same
spot, and, in his eagerness to cover him, he gave a
strenuous jerk, with the intent of breaking one fly,
and covering the salmon with the other. Splash
into the river went something heavy, which im
mediately took to swimming towards the opposite
bank, close to the spot where the salmon had risen.
The action of the animal so effectually played the
other fly before the salmon, that he forthwith seized
it, and both were weU hooked. The major con
tinued to relate that hereupon commenced a hard
struggle ; sometimes the salmon was on the surface,
and sometimes the other was drawn under water,
till, by judicious management, both were safely
landed, and proved to be a fine hare, hooked by the
leg, and a salmon of twenty pounds weight !
" I made them both a present to our worthy
host," added the major, " and it's myself that ate
part of both."
" I'll bear witness to the eating, at any rate,"
said the priest.
" And it's I'll bear witness to the catching,"
said the major, " and who'll deny it?"
So earnest was the major, that I would offer no
dissent ; but, on the contrary, intimated my surprise

SPORTING WONDERS. 55
at the singularity ofthe adventure, with the utmost
confidence in the fact. This so pleased him that
he begged to be aUowed to make my punch, which
he could do in rale Irish proportions.
The next story the major warmed into was of
his catching a rat by a dexterous cast of the fly ;
and a pike, which at once seized the rat, was safely
landed. " Oh," cried the priest ; " is it the rat you're
after ? now be aisy, major ; you know we never
had the rat for dinner."
" To be sure you didn't ; but every body
knows the fact, and none but an unbelieving
jew or a priest would dare to cast discredit on the
account." " It's impossible to surpass the story of the rat
and the pike, and I defy the major himself to go
beyond it," said the priest, appeaUng to me. I
admitted that I thought it was the extent to which
such exploits could be carried by any concurrence
of circumstances.
" Extent !" cried the major ; " drink your punch.
Here's to our host ! Oh, it's in Ireland you'U see
the wonderful things."
" And hear them, too," said the priest.
" Troth and you wiU, if ye listen to the whining
preaching of the Fathers of this day. Extent,
indeed!"

56 RIDING A SALMON.
It was evident the major was on his mettle, and
he ever and anon seemed boiUng with some con
cealed yet important mystery. The students
grinned applause and acquiescence, while the
barrister thought that it would, in ordinary cases,
have required stronger evidence to convince the
world in general, although for himself he could
entertain no doubt.
Our host now invited us to replenish, and the
conversation took a general turn. Politics, the
wrongs of Ireland, the CathoUc claims, and Protes
tant ascendency, in turn, were discussed; in all
which the major was inobtrusive. I could not but
observe that he gulped down draught after draught,
hastily ; and when matters had settled into a calm
train, and the affairs of Ireland were undergoing a
fearful review, smash went the glass of the major
on the table, and immediately foUowed his brawny
fist, which made the numerous tumblers ring a
violent change.
" Extent ! is it extent you mane ? Look ye, sir
— I am a Major in his Majesty's army, and am
paid by a rascally government : and, sir, I have
never lost my character for veracity. Extent ! —
by the honour of the commission I hold, I once
rode a salmon astride out of the stream, and spur
red him ashore !"
A burst of surprise and admiration, from those

RIDING A SALMON. 57
least acquainted with the major, followed this as
sertion. " Rode a salmon ashore ? Impossible ! " says
the priest.
" Verum quia iinpossibile, I presume you mean,"
said I ; " the major will explain."
" Troth and I will, and the devil help the spal
peen that is not satisfied with it. I repeat again,
I rode a salmon astride, and spurred him ashore. —
Father, you know the shallows leading to the mill
of Ballyvourneen.1'
" A good spot for a salmon," says the priest,
" but bad for riding him."
" You shall hear — I had been to Ballyvourneen,
and was returning to Macroom, on horseback, in
the evening. I had had a long ride. Where the
road passes by the side of the river, and along the
shallow which falls into the good people's hole,*
whom should I see, hard at work with a salmon,
but Phelim, the piper. Hold on there, says I — and,
booted and spurred as I was, I dashed into t;he
stream, and seized the rod from the piper, who
never had a steady hand, and was timid. The
salmon was in the hole, above which I stood in the
shallows, and about mid-stream. The moment the
* Good people's hole — a spot supposed to be haunted by
fairies ; who, although the cause, as the Irish suppose, of all
possible mischief, are thus designated in deprecation of their
wrath.
d5

58 THE SALMON'S BRIDLE.
fish moved, I knew his weight to be above forty
pounds, for it's meself can tell to an ounce the
weight of a fish at the first plunge. Away went
the salmon, and away went the reel. I held on
firmly and tightly till the line was nearly out;
when, all at once, the fresh run fish dashed up the
stream. I reeled away as quick as lightning, lest
I should lose my hold ; and, as the stream was
strong, I bent my knees in the water to get a
firmer hold on my legs, and to give me the power
of winding quick. Suddenly I felt myself lifted
off my legs ! Oh, Bubbaboo, says I — it was but
an instant — Is an Irishman ever at a loss? — I
caught hold of the line for a bridle, stuck my spurs
into the side of the fish, which I now found closely
stuck between my legs, and with one bound we
were both in the high shaUows, where I safely
landed the monster, to the immortal honour of
fishing and the exceUent dinner of Lord V  ,
who swore if any other man had said he had
caught him in the same way, he would not have
beUeved him."
Whatever the surprise excited by the former
stories, it was nothing to this. The priest thought
the major must have been mistaken ; I assented to
the fact, because the major told it ; the students
laughed; but the lawyer was silent. The major
had enough to do to assure all parties, over and

THE EVENING. 59
over again, that the relation was true — one of the
party had winked, and all forthwith acquiesced.
Each gentleman having now done his duty with
the punch, the piper was called in — and amid the
joyous revels of the dance, the priest, with a good
humour which greatly pleased. me, was the first
to volunteer the jig with a lady who happened (of
course by the merest accident) to be the prettiest
of the party.
It was late ere we rose to depart. My leave-
taking was a matter of difficulty ; the cordiality
and warmth with which I was pressed to prolong,
or to repeat my visit, being echoed from every part
of the family. Having" at last, however, succeeded
in making my acknowledgments aU round, and
while hastening to the door, I was arrested by the
grip of the major, who assured me he should with
much pleasure join me at Killarney, and would
show me some real fishing ; adding, that he had
still in store some surprising stories of the philoso
pher's art. " Extent, sir ? I shall yet have the
honour of surprising you."

60 CHARACTERISTIC SCENERY.

CHAPTER V.
Characteristic Scenery — Encampment of the Whitefeet Rebels
— Romantic Escapes and Dangers of an Irish Gentleman —
Irish Hospitality — The Lake of Inchgeelah — Delicious Treat
— Difficult Road — Inn of the Desert — Splendid View — Irish
Ingenuity — History of an Irish Fisherman — His Devoted
Affection — Heroic Self-devotion — Death of his Betrothed —
His Filial Affection — Character of the Irish Peasantry —
Sporting renewed — A Double Bite — Start for Killarney —
The River Flesk — Noble View — Coltsman Castle — Sporting
Notices — Killarney — A Perfect Gentleman! — Ill-effects of
English Generosity on the Poor of Killarney — Difference
between English and Irish Peasantry — The Problem Explained
— Appeal to Legislators in favour of Ireland.
From Macroom to Ballyvourneen, a distance of
fourteen miles, the road lies along a branch of the
river Lee, and through scenery of the wildest
character, consisting of sudden projections of rocks,
with here and there a cultivated patch. Here the
plough is unknown ; all the husbandry is performed
with the primitive spade, and even the labour of
other animals would be unknown, but that the
carriage of the turf from the bogs to the isolated
huts gives occasional employment to wretched

THE WHITEFEET. 61
hacks, which speak, by their condition, the grinding
poverty of their owners. The silence of the wilder
ness is alone broken by the occasional low of the
straggling cattle ; while, to the mind of the traveller,
miles of uncultivated bog, here and there broken
by masses of projecting rocks, the scene presents a
proof that he is indeed in a land neglected and
oppressed. The road which pursues the course of'the river
Lee is protected to the right by a chain of moun
tains of precipitous character, cutting off all com
munication from that side of the country, except
by such narrow passes as the goat may have
established ; upon the brow of these mountains,
once the scene of human massacre, can now only
be seen the hovering eagle.
On the height of this chain it was that the
Whitefeet — to the number of 20,000 — rebels,
poorly armed, and worse led, once encamped them
selves. Harassed by the severest pursuit, cut off
from supplies of every kind, in this ill-judged
position they awaited the attack of the military,
till, by hunger, hundreds expiring, and surrounded
on all hands, they made a rude and defenceless
assault on the troops, to whose discipline and
judgment these misguided creatures fell an easy
prey. The bloody history of this insurrection is
too well known to require remark ; seventeen were

62 THE ESCAPE.
hanged in the market-place of Macroom, amidst
the silent but deep execration of the populace,
whose revenge had been excited by the reckless
disregard to property which the insurgents had
evinced. The track is now without a mark of the carnage
by which its beauty was once defaced. The clear
turbulent river roUs on in silent grandeur ; the
peaceful angler may now cast his line on its bright
waters, and meet none but unoffending peasants !
I must not forget to do justice, as I pass, to the
character of a gentleman whose seat is in this
neighbourhood, and who is mixed up in the tragical
events to which I have referred; I mean Mr.
B  , of Kilbarry. It was by his courage, skill,
and prudence, that the effects of the insurrection
were averted. Amongst others, he was especially
marked for destruction, and singularly romantic
were the stratagems he used in gaining intelligence
of the rioters' movements, and in evading their
designs. His house was suddenly beset and as
suddenly reduced to ashes. The rebels had been
taught to believe that, in this act of destruction,
they had accomplished their revenge by burying
him in the ruins. So well were his plans laid, and
so well were they acted on, that, having prepared
the military and put himself at their head, many
hundreds fell into the hands of the authorities. He

MOUNTAIN HOSPITALITY. 63
now enjoys a pension from government as some
small remuneration for the heavy losses his property
sustained, and as a testimonial of the valuable
bervices he on this occasion rendered. The cha
racter he has acquired for hospitality — a quality,
indeed, valuable in these wilds — has aided the
general esteem in which he is so deservedly held.
All the guides to strangers who visit these moun
tains have full instructions to bring their charges
to his house ; nothing can more offend him than
the neglect of the guides to obey this injunction.
Owen was strenuous on this point, and I yielded
to his solicitation : although I had the misfortune
to find the excellent proprietor from home, there
was no absence of friendly cheer on my presenting
myself. The lake above Inchgeelah is one that will repay
the visiting. It has already been remarked that it
is separated from the lower lake by a waterfall, up
which the pike cannot ascend. It is crowded with
trout of a small size, but very delicious quality.
They will take any fly that is not too large, and,
as I fished for them, I used seven flies, frequently
bringing two, three, or four, to land at once. The
largest did not exceed half a pound. Mr. B  ,
of whom I have spoken, has here erected what is
termed a lodge, for the purpose of offering accom
modation to the visiter ; should it not be occupied

64 BALLYVOURNEEN.
by any previous applicant, there is no danger of a
refusal when applied for.
Having filled my basket with trout, and the rain
beginning to descend, I despatched Owen for the
pony which we had left at a hut on the road. We
were soon on our road, and bad enough that is.
Some of the acclivities we were obliged to assist
our pony to surmount. At length, however, an
isolated tower appeared in the valley — the once
proud residence of nobles, whose names exist no
more. It is now the dreary retreat of a few
policemen, under whose protection is established
an inn — truly an inn of the desert — every second
pane, as usual, patched with paper, although
obviously bearing indications of an expensive
structure. Through the village of Ballyvourneen,
if it may be so dignified, flows a branch of the river
Lee, and on it is erected a mill. The situation is
splendidly picturesque, formed by an abrupt valley
flanked by declivitous masses of rock.
No sooner had we arrived, and the refreshment
Owen and myself stood so much need of had been
supplied, than I prepared to try the stream at the
mill-tail. It was now evening ; the cold rains had
subsided, and, for the first time on these mountains,
the sun broke forth in peculiar splendour, tipping
all the rugged masses above us with gold. The
face of the landscape at once altered by the sudden

A SPORTSMAN. 65
gleam ; and, with that change, a change came o'er
our sports. These were not damped by the success
we met. I found the fly useless, and betook my
self to the salmon-roe. In about one hour I had
taken thirty trouts ; not large, indeed, but of a
very excellent quality. It was quite dark as I
returned to the inn, resolving to devote a day to
this stream.
The untiring ardour of a sportsman, who has
a new country before him, is not difficult to account
for ; but the elasticity of spirits which kept up my
attendant began now to excite my surprise. He
had walked nearly thirty miles of a mountainous
country — wet the whole day — yet ever cheerful,
uncomplaining, and full of alacrity. My own
sense of weariness directed my attention to his
comforts. He modestly declined all but a little
tobacco which fortunately the inn supplied.
There is a good-humoured ingenuity in Owen's
mode of making a request, which I should do him
injustice in not recording : —
" Well, Owen, I have determined to stay to
morrow, and try the stream .above the mill."
" It's your honour will kill the trout, to-morrow,
any way."
" But I shall start early — what hour ? "
" Oh, your honour will never be too early; and
we'll see Killarney in the evening."

66 HIS CHARACTER.
" I hope we shall have better weather. The
rains are endless."
" To be sure, the rain will come down to-morrow,
but your honour's niver bothered by the rain. Oh,
it will be fine weather, any how, for your honour —
it will be fine weather for me — rain away — barring
the price of tobacco."
" But you'll be wet again, Owen, and you will
have to put on your wet clothes."
" That's barring the price of tobacco, you
know." Rain, wind, and damp clothes, were all one
thing in the consideration of my patient and ever
cheerful companion, if accompanied by tobacco.
Of this I ordered a supply.
The desolation of the place, joined with the
howling winds without, threw me at once on the
society of this wild philosopher, who had rather
adopted me as a master than I him for a servant.
The first glass of punch opened his heart, and I
found no difficulty in extracting his history. It
was simple, and more touching from his own lips
than I can pretend to render it. Perhaps it
consists only of circumstances which are of daily
occurrence, yet I fear that a being in every respect
sc kind, and generous, and devoted, is not
frequently the inhabitant of any country.
I have already said Owen was the sole support

HIS HISTORY. 67
of an aged mother, from whom no inducement
could sever him. He was a tall and gaunt figure,
though of slight make, and of a countenance sunken
as with premature age. The eye, nevertheless,
bespoke intellect and vivacity, and would sometimes
lighten in an arch drollery, which gave great effect
to his general conversation. He had been born
and bred at Macroom, and though his knowledge
extended little beyond the streams of the neigh
bouring valleys, his mind had cherished the most
refined affections. He had never swerved from his
original bias, the native freedom of the soul which
animated him ; and this which in others of better for
tunes might have made a statesman of the highest
character, or a conqueror of countries, had made
him a fisherman. Wild was the sport — exciting
and uncertain the effect of the labour — caUing
and admitting no man his master, he felt that he
bounded over the well-known rocks, through which
the rivers dashed, a free man !
He had been betrothed to the daughter of a
farmer, whose home he had in his wanderings
frequented. The idea of marrying with fortune
even enters into the calculations of these cottagers ;
and a small array of furniture, with the site of a
cottage and the promise of a lease, are considered
a fair ground on which a youth may propose for
his bride. These had not Owen ; and the absence

68 HIS BETROTHED.
of them was enough to ensure his dismissal by the
stern father of his Ught- haired girl, who, never
theless, admired his character and determinedly
favoured his suit. So rigid, however, was the
guardianship of the father, that little or no oppor
tunity was afforded of their communicating. At
length, in the general distress, when the cholera
visited these remote deserts, and, with a fatality
unknown in other and more civilized districts, the
father fell a victim to the raging contagion. A
ban was put on his house ; his little stock was
seized for arrear of rent and tythe, and all refused
to receive the destitute and afflicted daughter of a
home where the deadly contagion had been known
to rage. Owen immediately brought her to his
own humble home ; and his aged mother, who ever
adored her son, offered every consolation within her
little means to assuage the anguish of the afflicted
girl. Night and day did Owen traverse the mountain
streams, sometimes ten hours a day ; up to his mid
dle in water, without food or comfort did he throw
his unattractive fly, in hope of the success which
would supply the means of subsistence for his de
pendent family. The mind of the poor girl, by
her sudden calamities, and, perhaps, by long
watching during her father's disease, had con
tracted a melancholy which nothing could alleviate.

HER DEATH. 69
The devoted mother of Owen had watched by the
bed of her son's betrothed with unceasing affection,
while the lover spared no labour that would lead
to the production of those little comforts which her
declining health required. Strange that having
by great success accumulated a sovereign, he set
off for Dublin on foot, without any provisions for
his own expences, but relying on the resources of
the numerous streams over which he must traverse
for the supply of his daily food and lodging (the
latter I believe more frequently in the clefts of the
rocks than elsewhere), and all for the purpose of
consulting an eminent physician of whom he had
heard !
Sad is the story of the invalid. The mother
watched and prayed by her bedside for three linger
ing months, while fell consumption made its fearful
and undeviating progress. She died as my humble
friend re-entered his cottage with the prescription
in his hand, and which he had that day borne for
fifty Irish miles, with bright anticipation of its
sanative effects. As he entered his lowly abode,
the pallid lips of the innocent cause of his labours
could but bless his name, and recommend to his
unceasing care and affection his kind, enduring,
and benevolent mother, who never for an hour had
left the sufferer alone during his absence, but had
even denied herself common necessaries, (and those,

70 FILIAL AFFECTION.
alas, in that country, are contained only in po
tatoes and turf for fuel) to supply the young and
patient creature with the little comforts her store
could furnish.
She died, blessing the name of her betrothed !
with one hand in that of the mother, and one em
balmed in the tears of her lover, she breathed forth
a spirit as pure, as grateful, as angelic, as ever in
habited the breast of the high-born daughters of
wealth and refinement.
" At that moment," said my humble companion,
" I vowed to cherish my mother ; at that moment
I called on the beloved being to hear my oath that
nothing should separate her from me ! No thought
of other woman has entered my mind from that
day to this. I love my mother, not only because
she was ever a kind and good one, but because, in
the day of my distress and anguish, when my whole
soul was concentrated in another, she was my staff
and my support. She did for my angelic girl all
that I had wished to do — my only hope and in
centive in life is her preservation and comfort — to
supply them I think no labour too much; and
when, after a day's disappointment, I return home
with an empty basket, I have the satisfaction of
thinking that this is but a test and a trial of my
affection to my beloved parent !"
These were not, indeed, Owen's words, but they

FILIAL AFFECTION. 71
were faithfully his sentiments. The brogue with
which they were clothed rendered them more sim
ple, but not the less affecting. In a ragged moun
taineer did this noble affection betray itself — in
the humble, laborious, and contented creature, who,
for his own gratification, amidst storms, and wet,
and cold, and fatigue, sought only a little tobacco,
did I recognise as proud and as honest a heart as
ever dignified the form of man !
My readers will forgive this episode — I took it
as it passed me — I noted it amidst the search for
amusement, and it gave a train to my thoughts in
studying Irish character, which may, perhaps, be
referred to the source by those who follow me.
Affection, filial affection, is the strongest trait in
the Irish character. In the course of all my travels
never did I see that sacred affection violated. In
the number of their children do the Irish peasantry
rejoice — in the hope of an early family do they
marry young. They calculate on their children as
their wealth, and look upon their offspring as the
resources from whence, in age and in sickness, they
must derive their subsistence and their happiness.
As yet there are no poor-laws — Nature steps in
and supplies the place of legislation by the warm
gratitude of the child to the parent. In every
cottage may be seen the decrepid and the infirm of
the family peacefully passing the remainder of their

72 THE INCH.
days, their wants supplied by their children ; and I
believe nothing would appear to an Irish moun
taineer more unnatural than the neglect of filial
duties. In England, the father, tired of the burden
of his children, seeks to be freed from the alliance ;
and the child, not unfrequently seeking amidst the
world a better home, neglects that of his infancy,
and forgets the claims of those to whom his being
and early nurture are owing. Too frequently may
be seen the parents supplied by the parish with
those necessaries which would have been unnoticed
in the luxurious household of the child.
Nor does this state of things seem to create sur
prise, or to excite reflection on an ingratitude so
generally shared. In Ireland it is otherwise ; the
ban would be put on that child who should neglect
to nurture and provide for the authors of his being ;
and, though other virtues be neglected, no quarter
would be shown to him who should forget the
duties of the child to the parent.
By four in the morning Owen was on the alert,
and, with pipe in mouth, rod in hand, was ready
for the sport. We fagged up the stream about a*
mile above the bridge, where we found a broad ex
panse of water, not dignified by the name of a
lake, but designated the Inch. Here I changed
my roe for flies, and, after the second cast, found
myself tolerably well engaged with a white trout.

THE DOUBLE RUN. 73
Not, however, quickly reeling up, I was suddenly
astonished by a heavy weight, for which I was little
prepared. I was not long in ignorance : a pike
had taken a fancy to my trout. Of course I
troubled him little. My fly-gut stood tiU I had
convinced myself of the determined voracity of the
creature, which would rather suffer himself to be
restrained by the line than abandon his prey.
Owen had secured a tolerable salmon, and, as
usual, the rains descended in almost heavy sheets
of water rather than in separated' particles. We
agreed, therefore, to abandon our post at Bally
vourneen, and push on for Killarney.
To this end our arrahgements were soon made.
Leaving Owen to bring on the pony, I mounted the
Cork and Killarney coaeh.
We soon reached the river Flesk, at the point
where the Clydah pours in its waters, which form
by their junction a broad and rapid stream, falling
into the bosom of KiUarney. On ascending one
of the hills, the whole view at once burst on the
sight. Lakes of immense extent, here and there
dotted with islands, covered the expanse, and
caUed forth the liveliest feeUngs of admiration.
The wild beauties of Switzerland seemed here
blended with a more sober variety of objects ; while
the anticipations of the sportsman are excited by
the beauteous variety of water and mountain.
vol. i. E

74

THE FLESK.

We now passed one of the prettiest modern ob
jects in the neighbourhood of Killarney — a castle
on an abrupt ridge of the Flesk, which, at the dis
tance ofthe road, presents a very imposing appear
ance. It is named, from the builder and master,
who has exhibited considerable taste in the choice
of the site, Coltsman Castle.

COLTSMAN CASTLE, ON THE FLESK.
Although the Flesk, which runs by the Castle, is
at certain seasons celebrated for the variety of its
fish, it is by no means a river to which I would
direct the angler's attention. In the summer,
when the waters get low, no fish are to be found
beyond the smallest species of trout ; but, in the
autumn, when the mountain floods begin to de
scend, the whole tribe from the lakes of Killarney

ENTRANCE TO KILLARNEY. 75
push up to sandy and gravelly beds to lay their
spawn. This is the time when the spear is in re
quisition, as the large trout and salmon may be
found in the shallowest parts, digging holes with a
determination and strength that would hardly be
ascribed to them. They are easily taken, but are
out of season ; and, though I have frequently fished
this stream through the autumn, I never took one
fish which was not sickly and poor. It would
appear that the extensive waters of the lakes are
necessary to the renovation of trout, as the sea is
to the salmon after spawning.
As we approached the miserable cluster of houses
which constitute the town of Killarney, there was
a manifest alteration in the appearance of the
peasantry; and the baleful effects of an indiscrimi
nate generosity (if it may be so dignified) in the
visiters to this spot, became every where conspi
cuous. There were two gentlemen on. the coast,
armed with every implement for the destruction of
game and fish, but evidently as yet unseasoned to
the climate. It was not difficult to collect that
they were perfect gentlemen, their conduct through
out the journey from Cork having evinced irre
fragable proofs of their claims. As the coach passed
the ragged and shoeless creatures, one amused
himself by throwing halfpence, and at length chal
lenged a miserable-looking youth, who had pursued
E2

76 KILLARNEY.
the coach, by the offer of half-a-crown if he would
keep up with us a mile. The road was newly
covered with broken flint, and the lad's anxiety to
select the shortest way whoUy overcame the caution
which should have directed his steps. He had
almost achieved the undertaking, when the loss of
blood from his wounded feet, and want of power
to continue the exertion, overcame aU his efforts,
and he sunk on the road amid the violent
laughter of the liberal patron who had excited his
attempt. There is altogether a new character, observable
among the poor, and they are the chief inhabitants of
Killarney ; there is idleness exemplified in its most
intense degree ; and the effects of it, among all
classes of expectants, are almost sufficient to deter
the visiter from any long stay at these beautiful
lakes. Although, throughout Ireland — that is, in aU
places where the diffuse and indiscriminate extra
vagance of Englishmen has not yet polluted it — I
had reason greatly to respect the general character
of the Irish peasantry, I must except that nu
merous herd which has suffered from the baleful
effects of a residence in Killarney. In general, the
good feeling which exists among the Irish poor,
the affection they appear to entertain for each
other, and the general hospitality they, in their

THE PEASANTRY. 77
humble way, show to their destitute neighbours, is
worthy of imitation. The contrast between the
Irish and English peasantry is, indeed, very
striking. In England the clown will answer the
inquiries of the traveller with a bluntness which he
mistakes, perhaps, for independence. He answers
the inquiry, indeed, but without suffering himself
to be for one moment diverted from his employ
ment. In fact, the Englishman is from his cradle
taught to care for no one ; he walks the high road
with a surly doggedness which bespeaks his utter
independence of all whom he may meet ; he
feels that he has at least a right there, and will
take the wall of any. Not so the Irish peasant.
With many of the best qualities of the human
heart, he wiU be found without independence.
Address him by the road-side — he immediately
throws down the implements of labour to attend
your commands. He does not point out the way,
but accompanies you on it. He is your servant,
and, if you please, your slave. Use to him ex
pressions of anger or disappointment — he never
answers ; abuse his conduct and condemn his
labour — he says nothing, or extenuates his fault
by the humblest submission. In all intercourse
with superiors you find him servile to a fault, an
adept at flattery, and not unmindful of the wrong
which he endures with perfect serenity. He says,

78 PROTESTANT ASCENDENCY.
indeed, nothing ; but he treasures all your unjust
upbraidings in his heart, and, when the opportunity
arrives, a wild feeUng of revenge, which might, by
proper culture, be trained to high honour and acts
of heroism, hurries him into the commission of
crime, and the wrong- doer is waylaid in his journey
by a ball from a hidden hand.
Although the Irish are most religiously instructed,
their moraUty is lost sight of. It must unhappily
be admitted that, though there is scarcely one who
would not deem his salvation at stake, should he
neglect a mass or forget a filial duty, yet few
would hesitate to succour a murderer, or to
conceal the perpetrator of most atrocious crimes.
A hundred will be present at the slaughter of an
unarmed man ; yet is not one found to denounce
the agent.
Inconsistent, indeed, is the general character, but
not difficult of solution is the incongruity. Not
only should the administration of the laws be im
partial, but they should appear so ! I cannot con
cur with those who think that Protestant ascendency
must necessarily induce partial and unjust admi
nistration of the law ; yet, I cannot conceal from
myself the fact, that the difference in character
between the Irish and the English peasantry has
wholly arisen from that opinion. At an early
period of our history, when the lower orders were

ITS EFFECTS. 79
emancipated from the thraldom of the feudal lords,
the protection of the poor against the tyranny of
the rich became the object of a boastful admiration.
Soon were the middle classes capable of making
stand against their more wealthy and ennobled
masters or employers, and independence became the
feature ofthe people. The aid of that people in
all contests was sought with avidity, and their pro
tection became an object embracing many advan
tages. Some were so destitute as to be deprived
of the protection ofthe law, which was, as time and
knowledge advanced, more and more equally dealt
out, and impartially framed. At length, the poor
began to have confidence in the law, which they
found protected them, and felt that no man was
great enough to oppress or wrong them with im
punity. A natural jealousy of the wealthy was
disseminated ; and the severest civil wars, which
evinced the power of the mass ofthe people, taught
them also to feel that they had a redress, let the
spoiler be ever so strong. If you were to threaten
a breaker of stones on the road in England, he
would smile with contempt on you ; he would, in
all probability, return your opprobrious epithet
with interest, and defy you to put in practice your
threats ; conscious, as he is, that his redress would
be in the law. Is that so in Ireland? The
threatened would fear the execution of your

80 JUSTICE.
threats, and would not reply to your abuse. He is
convinced that wealth and Protestantism are the
only safeguards in his misgoverned country.
Wealth and Protestantism alone engross the
fears of the Irish peasantry. If their assailant be
a Protestant, the Irish peasant must bear in secret
his contumely ; if he be wealthy, he has probably
the means of punishment delegated to him ; while
no redress presents itself to his prejudiced mind,
in any appUcation to a magistrate, who (at least for
a long period) has been appointed such, solely for
his possession of wealth, and his profession of an
alien religion. The peasant thinks, however un
justly, that he has no appeal ; that his story would
not be believed in opposition to that of his reUgious
enemy ! he hopes nothing from justice, adminis
tered by such obviously partial hands as a Protestant
magistrate. He, therefore, bears your injustice
with patience, but not without feeling ; he estimates
to the full the wrong that is done to him, and the
hopelessness of legal redress ; but the time may,
and, perhaps, will arrive when he may satisfy his
wild and savage justice, by directing a bullet to
your heart, when you little suspect the lurking.
ambush. Legislators, is this wonderful ? Behold the
effect a religious ascendency has caused in the
natural character of a people imbued with all the

JUSTICE. 81
elements of the finest race in the English domi
nions ; who possess qualities which, if nurtured
and cherishedby kindness and education, would
adorn human nature, and raise the character of
man.

E 5

82 KILLARNEY.

CHAPTER VI.
Arrival at Killarney — Strange Costume — Street Annoyances and
Beggars — Character of the Inhabitants of Killarney — Lord
Kenmare and the Lakes — Inn Accommodation — Doherty, the
Fly-maker — The Lions of the Lakes — The Major — Impudence
and Imposition — Advantage of Private Lodgings — Price of
Provisions — Impositions of Innkeepers — Hints to Anglers at
Killarney — The Major's Narrative — Hoaxing — A Fighting
Tailor — The Major's Revenge.
On our arrival at Finn's Hotel, we were sur
rounded by a host of human beings covered with
rags, or rather having rags of all possible variety
of colour and fashion hanging from their bodies
than covering their bodies, the nether limbs of the
more juvenile being absolutely naked. The dress
of the boys, even those of twelve or fifteen years of
age, was whimsical : and, as I find that it is a style
which is every where adopted, I may as well de
scribe it particularly ; it consisted of some sort of
jacket and a shirt, the latter extending about a foot
below the waist, and hanging in strips, which, as

KILLARNEY. 83
the rough wind visited them, formed flags little
calculated to accomplish the purpose of clothing.
Hundreds of men, women, and children flocked
round the coach, and beggars of all descriptions im
peded the entrance into the inn. All seemed bent
on one determined purpose — that of robbing the
unfortunate traveller; some by prayers for long
life to him, others by offers of assistance to see the
lakes, others by the display of the most trumpery
specimens of sheUs, little boxes made ofthe arbutus
tree, which abounds on the island of the lakes, by
the offer of flies, &c. ; the whole constituting such a
din and clamour as make a hasty retreat into the
inn a work of difficulty as well as necessity.
The crowds of idlers of all descriptions which
constitute the residents of this town exhibit the
character of the Irish in an unfavourable light, and
may, by persons who extend their inquiries no
further than a visit to Killarney, be mistaken for
the general one.
Here are congregated an immense mass of per
sons, who are attracted by the hope of some good
fortune, which they suppose is to arise from the
numerous and wealthy visiters who arrive in search
of the picturesque. Through the winter they have
no settled employment ; they rely upon the coming
summer for their store, of which they never accom
plish the accumulation ; and though more money

84 KILLARNEY POPULATION.
is, I doubt not, spent at Killarney than in any
other town in Ireland of equal population, poverty
is nowhere more extreme, or wretchedness more
congregated. They are, nevertheless, a romantic
and problematical race.
It is their object to appear as poor and destitute
as possible. They' fully expect you to open your
purse the moment you look into their cabin, and
have no notion but that every visiter's business is
to give something to them. Too indolent to make
provision for the future, and unassisted in their ex
tremity by poor-laws, they are infected by a sort of
constitutional disposition to begging, which ener
vates their own energies, destroys aU feeling of
manhood, and renders them a speculative and
chance-calculating set, every one looking for some
singular advantage which is to arise they know not
how or when; perhaps by the providential advent of
a stranger, or the all-promised influence of O'Con
neli. Meanwhile, however, it is not worth the
trouble to set their house in order, or to do any
thing that is not absolutely necessary to their pre
sent existence. If you ask a wretched naked Kil
larney man to hold your horse for five minutes, he
expects you will throw him at least a sovereign for
the trouble, and looks with wonder at a few half
pence. Every man of this class looks in the smallest
service for enormous gains ; and he would rather

KILLARNEY. 85
wait in expectation of such a remuneration for a
year than secure that which is within his reach by
steady industry.
This disposition to begging and hope of acci
dental advantage has banished every feeling of
independence. If any landlord should build com
fortable cottages (as some have), the people would
only inhabit them in their own way, viz., by making
pigsties of them. They make no effort at clean-
Uness; and though the interior of their cabins,
which are here of the most wretched description, is
ever black with the smoke of the turf — and though
they have lime at every corner, and in such abun
dance that it needs only the fetching — you would
never induce one to apply it to his walls ; if he did
so, it would give an air of cleanliness and comfort
to his habitation, much against his disposition and
his interest ; he would appear too happy to excite
commiseration; his landlord would expect some
rent, which is ordinarily paid by an appeal to the
debtor's utter destitution ; and begging (the be
setting vice of the town) would be less profitable.
The pride of independence and the endeavour to
make appearance of well-doing, which are gene
rally seen among the lowest orders of the English,
are here wholly reversed, where a wretch deems
himself rich in proportion to his poverty, and
appeals ever to his squalid destitution, which he

86 KILLARNEY TACKLE.
regards as the best means of getting a liveli
hood. Although arrived at Killarney, so kindly has the
main landlord dealt by the inhabitants and visiters
that from no part of the town can the lakes be
seen. The great charm which the view of those
lovely waters are calculated to create is effectually
extinguished by the high walls and inclosed do
main of the Earl of Kenmare, the proprietor of
nearly the whole of this side the lake. This he has
waUed in, wholly depriving the town of Killarney
of any peep at the waters, which, I suppose, his
lordship deems his own.
On my alighting at the inn, I found tolerable
accommodation. I was surrounded at the door by
a host of j^y-mongers. Crowds of fishermen and
boatmen beset the inn, at the news of an arrival ;
and many with books of flies, which there could be
no hesitation in pronouncing the greatest impo
sitions on the unsuspecting stranger. Among
these was a veteran in the fly- tackle manufacture,
one Doherty, who has a hump -backed son, with
some ingenuity. He showed me an immense col
lection of gaudy affairs, for which he demanded
an enormous price. To get rid of him, I bought
a few, manifestly to the chagrin and displeasure of
Owen, who had just come up with the pony, and
who did all that winks and nods could do to save

LAKE-BOATING. 87
my money. " Sure now, Mister Doherty, his honour
knows right well you're a capital fly-maker and
fisherman any how; but his honour knows the
wathers, and its meself that knows 'em too, Mis-
ther Doherty, so don't be bothering his honour just
now." " Och, is it yourself, Misther Owen, that wants
to tache me ? My flies are the only flies for the
wathers here. His honour will want a boat, to be
sure, and its meself, too, will have the getting."
" Troth and it's never yerself, honey, that'll have
the getting the boat."
" Boat, your honour, for the upper lakes to
morrow." Four or five free and easy gentlemen, under the
disguise of sailors, now thrust themselves half a
foot in the door. " There's the Eagle's Cliff, your
honour; and there's the wonderful echo of Ross
Castle, where, if you ask Paddy Blake how. he is,
it's himself will say pretty well, thank ye !"
Pestered with this posse comitatus, not to men
tion the additional annoyance of the windows and
doors surrounded with beggars, from among whom
escape were hopeless ; in endeavouring to see the
town, I was glad to excuse myself by ringing for
the landlord, who did not think the intrusion of so
many applicants for my patronage at all unseemly
or uncommon. WitU some difficulty, therefore, I

88 KILLARNEY.
deferred my arrangements, and despatched Owen to
see if Major  , my Macroom friend, had arrived
at home on the banks of the lake at Cloreen, where
he had given me his address.
In about" an hour the major returned, and in
sisted on my forthwith coming to his cottage, where
he had some of the best whiskey in all Kerry. I
found under the major's protection a manifest dif
ference in the importunity of the beggars, bugle-
men, and boatmen, who retired when they saw the
major. " Faith," said he, " and ye may thank
me for saving ye from the train of locusts which
infest the place. Not a boat goes up the lakes
(for they are all in the hands ofthe two innkeepers,
and their lubberly, idle crew,) for less than two
pounds a day, what with aiting, and drinking, and
bugling, and humbug. These fellows play into
one another's hands, and get a dishonest Uvelihood,
bad luck to 'em. I'll have the honour myself to
show you the lakes, and, if we have a wind to
morrow, some tolerable sport."
As I purposed to stay at Killarney some time,
I did at once what I strongly recommend all
sojourners there at once to do. By the major's
assistance I engaged very comfortable private
apartments at eighteen shillings a week, including
attendance, fire, and cooking. I then visited the
market-house, which was well supplied with abun-

KILLARNEY INNS. 89
dance of sea-fish and meat. The prices were as
follows :— pork, 2d. tp ft. ; beef, 3d. to S^d. ;
mutton, 4d. ; a cod-fish, six pounds, Is.; fowls,
lOd. a pair ; chickens, from 6d. to 6|d. ; potatoes,
4fd. sp stone.
With all the necessaries of life, therefore, at so
cheap a ratio, it is rather surprising that the inn
charges should be as large at Killarney as in Lon
don; and it shows how necessary it is that strangers,
by their arrangements, should defeat such unfair
imposts. My next step was to1 secure a boat ; this the
major kindly undertook, and agreed with a man
at Ross Island, at four shillings per week, for a
small, but very convenient one for fishing.
I am particular in all these matters, because,
without this information, English anglers and
tourists will be deceived by the persuasions of per
sons, that the lakes can only be properly visited in
one of the inn boats, at a charge, for crew and all,
of about two pounds per day ; an amount very ill
suited to the real amusements of the sportsman.
The fisherman, indeed, requires privacy; and fishing
from a boat, with a crew of ten or twelve, would be
useless. These arrangements complete, I accompanied the
major to his cottage, where no sooner had we ar
rived than the proof of friendship was produced —

90 VISITERS.
" the matarials ;" and no sooner had he despatched
the first tumbler, and given all directions necessary
to his two gardeners, and boatmen, and domestic
servants, (for two ragged good-tempered boys ful
filled all those offices) than I could perceive that a
suppressed rage was forcing its way to ebullition.
By his second tumbler, and when he had been
joined by one of two of his friends, whom he had
sent for to meet me, he became communicative.
His first injunction to me was, that I should be
aware how I accepted the acquaintance of any
Killarney visiters. A wound was still rankUng in
his bosom.
It would be difficult to follow the major through
the disjointed variety of his exclamations, by which
he made me understand the source of his chagrin,
for a true knowledge of which I was indebted rather
to the running commentary of his friend than to his
own explanations. It appeared that two gentlemen
had arrived at Killarney, armed with all the im
plements of piscatorial destruction which cock-
neyism could devise. Hearing that the major was
the genius loci, they had presented their compli
ments to him, and requested the honour of sharing
a bottle with him, an invitation the major could
not answer to the rubicundity of his nose, if he had
refused. After some time, the strangers informed
the major that it was their intention to make a

THE DEAF LAKE. 91
book — a vice very common amongst all visiters to
Killarney ; and hinted not very delicately that the
inhabitants of Killarney had better pay respect to
them, if they valued a good character with Europe
and the world. Now the major hath a great contempt
for books and book-makers; and had, I believe,
seen, during his residence at Killarney, as many of
the latter as the former. Hereupon the major
had begged to be informed of the nature of the
intended work, and, finding it was to celebrate the
wondrous beauty of the lakes, at once had proffered
all his knowledge and assistance. These had been
gratefully accepted.
We have said that the major mortally hateth
books — and especially that kind of book-making
rather prevalent among the English — which pro
fesses to enlighten the world on matters which
they, the book-makers, have gathered from the
foolish impressions of an ignorant peasantry or pre
judiced natives. The major was determined that
the wonders of Killarney should not be forgotten
amongst the gentlemen's notes, and forthwith pro
ceeded to describe the wonders of the Deaf Lake,
a small pool so called, at the top of one of the
mountains that surround the town. He explained
that the most extraordinary phenomenon existing
in Ireland, and for which philosophy had been
wholly unable to offer any explanation, was this —

92 THE DEAF LAKE.
that though the lake was not more than three
hundred yards wide, yet it was impossible to convey
across it any sound. This, he said, had been
frequently tried, and he offered to accompany one
of his new friends to the morning's trial. So
singular a phenomenon was worthy of note ; but
the major made a stipulation that one only should
attend the trial.
After considerable labour, they the next morning
had reached the pool ; and the major, planting his
friend on the one side, proceeded himself to the
other. He then commenced a series of grimaces
and contortions, indicative of the most boisterous
efforts to convey some words to his listening com
panion, who adopted the most approved system of
acoustics, by putting his hands to his ears and
stretching as far as possible over the verge of the
lake. Not the slightest sound reached him. The
surprised listener now ran round to the major and
protested that he could not hear one word, although
it was manifest that the major had made every
possible effort. They then changed places ; and
great, indeed, was the surprise of the stranger to
find all his bellowings met only by the same efforts
on the part of the major that he himself had pre
viously used.
" Is it possible you did not hear me ?"
" Not a word."

A CHALLENGE. 93
" Why, I shouted as loudly as possible."
" You seemed to do so. I could perceive you
were opening your mouth and inflating your lungs,
but no sound reached me."
" Did you not hear me request you to speak out,
major?" " Certainly not."
" Wonderful ! "
On their return, the expressions of astonishment
were repeated, and the time of descending the
mountain was fully occupied in discussing the
merits of so wonderful a case.
Here, had the joke rested, it had been more
satisfactory ; but the note-taking stranger published
the unexplained mystery so ubiquitously, that he
soon became aware of the imposition which had
been practised on his credulity, and purposed most
furiously to resent it.
In a day or two, our major received an intima
tion that an explanation or an apology would be
necessary, and he heartily d  d himself and the
note-making-knight together — himself for volun
teering a dangerous joke, and the other that he
had so little Irish blood in his veins as to be unable
to bear it. As an apology was out of the question,
the old pistols were rubbed up. The affair, how
ever, getting wind, both the parties were summoned
before a magistrate, and then a singular discovery

94 THE REVENGE,
was made. To the magistrate's question as to his
station in life, our note-maker first described him
self as a gentleman.
" Of what class ? "
" Of the London class."
" Have you any trade or profession ?"
" Yes, a profession."
"What is that?"
" Am I bound to answer ?"
" I conceive so."
With much hesitation, therefore, he confessed
that he was an eminent tailor in Bond Street.
The indignation of the major now broke out.
" What," said he, " have I been wasting my time
and lowering my honour by associating with a
tailor ! Thunder and turf ! he is the first snip
that ever cut me before. To be called out by a
snip!" Whereupon he appealed to the magistrates, and
expressed his hope that the tailor might be in
stantly transported, at least, for having offered so
incurable an indignity to an officer in his Majesty's
service. The magistrate, seeing that the affair could go
no further, dismissed the case ; but the major's in
dignation could not be stayed ; he deemed it his
duty to give full explanations of his blamelessness
in the affair. Indeed, so cast down had the major

THE REVENGE. 95
been by the dishonour of having been called to ac
count by the tailor, that he had scarcely been able
to face his friends until that day, when an unhoped
for revenge was by accident thrown in his way.
The tailors had been shooting on the lake. By ill
luck the boat was capsized just as the major and
his little crew were passing them. The major's
magnanimity prevailed — he saved them — but
could not resist the admonition which the circum
stance suggested.
" Oh, Bubaboo ! " cried the major, having
brought both into his boat. " By the powers, you
should be after staying at home and minding your
own hot goose, and not be bothering here to get
nothing but a cold duck."
The tailors were no more seen ; but the major
still boiled with abhorrence of Killarney note-
making visiters.

96 ROSS CASTLE.

CHAPTER VII.
First Day on the Lake — Ross Castle — Splendid View — Accidental
Sport — A Disappointment — The evil of Sight-gazing — Scarcity
of Salmon in the Lakes — Island of Innisfallen — An Impromptu
Breakfast — Beauties of the Island — The Monastery — Coasting
— Famous Sport — The Eagle's Nest — Extraordinary Echoes —
The Pass — The Lower Lake ~- Residence of Mr. Hyde, Rector
of Killarney — Trouting — Directions for Bait — How to astonish
the Natives — Wonderful success of Salmon-roe — Lord Ken-
mare's Cottage — An Angler's Dinner — Turk Lake — Its monster
Trout — Angling Exploit of Lady Headly — The Major in his
glory — Enormous Trout — More Hints to Sportsmen at Kil
larney. It was a cool, cloudy, yet, to the sportsman, a
beautiful morning, as I entered my little boat,
which Owen had already brought to the landing-
place of Ross Island, with a view of trying the first
or lower lake, sufficient of itself, indeed, to supply
a continued change of fishing-ground for some
weeks. Ross Castle, which is the only place allowed for
embarkation, is an ancient ruin of some beauty.
It consists of a lofty square tower with embattle-

THE LOWER LAKE. 97
ments, on the very verge of the lower lake. From
the castle itself the view is splendid, and will repay
the trouble of mounting ; it forms a perfect pano
rama of Mangerton, Turk, and Glena mountains,
and the lakes which are named from them.
There was an aspect of gloom over the lake,
which, in the opinion of Owen, augured favourably
for a salmon. We first mounted, therefore, two
salmon flies of a temperate order, and started for
what is called the salmon course. That is, the
deep ridges by the sides of the several islands
which every where spot the lakes of Killarney. It
is to be noted that for salmon fishing these courses
must be strictly observed, while trout will only be
found, on the flats in the neighbourhood of the
shores. The wind being off Ross Castle, we at once suf
fered the boat to drift, and began our cast. As
we continued to throw with the wind, and before
the boat, the lower lake in all its majesty opened
by very gentle degrees, and expanded itself in
boundless beauty. As we drove onward, the noble
Toomies and Glena arose, abruptly and boldly, from
the very bosom of the waters. Overcome by so
singularly beautiful a scene, I had thrown down my
rod, and had almost unconsciously taken the pencil,
the boat still drifting down the course. O'Do-
noghue's prison, a perpendicular rock, thirty feet
vol. i. P

98 A DISAPPOINTMENT.
from the surface, now presented itself; having
passed which, the modest, arbutus-clothed island,
Innisfallen, came in view. It is a spot covered
with verdure, and in charming contrast with the
barren promontories which every where else pre
sented themselves. As I was engaged in contem
plating the agreeable variety it presented, I was
startled by Owen's sudden exclamation : " O, bad
luck to it, but your honour's rod is gone : a salmon,
huzza !"
I had just seized the reel as it was passing the
edge of the boat, and found that I had indeed a
heavy fish to contend with. He had taken the fly
while trailing (as it is here called) behind the boat,
the breeze just giving sufficient way to keep the fly
on the surface. Now came the tug of war. The
danger of being rocked was imminent, for rocks
every where surrounded us, while the power of the
fish gave evident proof that he was fresh from the
sea. All difficulties, however, appeared in a few
minutes to have been overcome, and my prize was
at the surface, hardly capable of another effort.
While just on the point of drawing him gently to
the boat, that Owen might gaff him, the mouth
gave way, and the fish remained at two or three
yards distance, motionless on the water ; before,
however, we could approach him, he recovered his
power, and slowly moved downward.

SALMON. 99
Our disappointment was extreme ; Owen threw
the hat from his head, and tore his hair. " If your
honour had been minding the fly, perhaps  ."
Owen hardly dared to proceed, but it was manifest
he thought I had ill managed the fish. I was in
disgrace, it was clear. " But," said Owen, " your
honour played him well."
Fortune seldom forgives a bungler, and we had
no further chance of a salmon, having now com
pleted the whole course. We, therefore, put on
our trout flies, and drifted towards Innisfallen. In
this kind of fishing we were immediately successful ;
and, indeed, scarcely a cast was made as we ap
proached the land without a rise. It was not long,
therefore, before we had secured two dozen trout,
though not any of very large size— generaUy from
a quarter to half a pound each.
The great decrease of salmon in the lakes of
KiUarney is attributable to the river fishery esta
blished aU up the Lawne, of which we shall after
wards speak, by nets. The run from the sea
to the lakes does not exceed twelve miles; the
river is drawn at every spot calculated for the halt
of the fish, nightly ; and few, therefore, now escape
to the lakes. Indeed, the salmon fishery of the
lakes may be considered almost extinct, though
sufficient is still taken by nets on the shallows to
supply the town at 4d. per lb.
F2

100 A LAKE BREAKFAST.
We now landed on Innisfallen, which was spread
with a beautiful carpet of verdure. Here and there
are occasional openings, which, through the luxu
riance of the foliage, give views of the lake. The
lofty trees, in almost every variety, form arbours of
considerable extent; and amongst them the arbutus,
which appears to have been indigenous. Smith, in
his history of Kerry, seems to think that it was
first planted by the monks on this island, an opinion
which their existence on all the other islands seems
to contradict.
We now descried the major's boat rowing hard
towards the island, and we made a signal that we
recognized him. He was soon with us, accom
panied by his two men of aU-work, and a bugler.
" By the powers, and you were stirring early this
cool morning; that's a proof of the sportsman;
what luck ?"
We exhibited our trout, and related our discom
fiture ; he expressed his surprise at our having met
a salmon so early in the season, for which he said
he had now ceased to fish on the lakes, at least till
the autumn should return. But from his boat was
produced a fine lake trout of five pounds, which he
had taken by trailing. The lads were active, and
in a few minutes an exceUent turf fire was blazing ;
three sticks, gipsy fashion, were stuck up, the tea
kettle was boiling, the cloth laid on the velvet

INNISFALLEN. 101
green, and the trout suspended for roasting. The
major had not forgotten a good dried salmon, which,
broiled with some of the smaller trout, furnished
forth a noble breakfast.
We employed some time in rambling over the
island, which has been so long and so generally
celebrated for every species of romantic invention.
I find that Archdall speaks of the monastery, the
remains of which give grandeur to the otherwise
beautiful spot. He says that, in 1180, " this abbey
being ever esteemed a paradise and a secure sanc
tuary, the treasure and most valuable effects of the
whole country were deposited in the hands of her
clergy, notwithstanding which this abbey was plun
dered by Maoldwin, son of Daniel O'Donoghue;
many of the clergy were slain, and even in their
cemetery by the M'Carthys."
It is said that a coUection of bones were dis
covered beneath the threshold of the oratory, and
supposed to have been the bones of the clergy thus
slain. I think, however, the practice of making
the islands of these lakes burying-grounds, which
wiU be noticed of Lake Waterville, will give a better
account of them.
Having sufficiently admired the beauties of Innis-
fallen, we now proceeded to coast the other islands,
and the day's sport began in earnest. The major's
boat having drawn off about a hundred yards, we

102 TROUT- FISHING.
both drifted towards a cluster of rocks. There
were two rods going from each boat ; and, as the
sun occasionally broke forth and was again clouded,
we found as much as we could do in taking trout.
At mid-day the major hailed us, and, on comparing
notes, we found our number to be sixty-seven, his
108 — all fish of the same character, and about the
same size. We, therefore, set forth, wearying of
the monotony of trouting, towards the pass of the
upper lake, the major being the leader.
At the Eagle's Nest, which is a splendid pro
montory overhanging the pass between the lakes,
an explosion took place that had been nearly fatal
to my equilibrium, as I was standing in the boat,
and carelessly throwing my fly as Owen rowed.
" Ha, ha ! " said the major ; " d'ye hear the
answers ?"
These were the echoes from the different moun
tains, which returned many times the sound of the
major's duck-gun, which he had just discharged,
and as distinctly as the original explosion, till it
died into a kind of thunder. The succeeding si
lence, broken only by the dashing of the waterfalls
which supply the lakes, was singularly impressive,
and we paused on the oars to enjoy the change.
After a few minutes the major's bugle sent forth a
shrill blast, which was repeated in a varying key
from mountain to mountain; the scream of the

THE UPPER LAKE. 103
rock birds formed a chorus, and the mountains
seemed to vivify.

THE OLD WEIR BRIDGE.
We now came to the pass of the Old Weir
Bridge. The lakes were not high, and the small
river which separates them was hardly deep enough
to allow our boats to be rowed up. We, therefore,
lightened burdens, while one lad brought the boats
through. The sight of the upper lake was more surprising,
though not of such extended beauty as the lower.
The shores are abruptly rocky, and there are few
places that will admit of a landing. The islands,
which are numerous, present less beauty than those
of the lower lake. On a green base, however, be
tween the lofty ranges of mountains, may be ob-

104 TRAILING.
served one dot of white, surrounded by plantations
of variegated hues. It is the residence of Mr.
Hyde, a clergyman and rector of Killarney, and
forms the only feature which recals one from the
belief that we are in an uninhabited wild.
At the major's instance we now changed our
tackle, and for flies substituted small trout of two
or three inches long, which the major had provided,
and which will be readily found in all the little
brooks falling into the lakes. These we put on in
the foUowing manner : pass one large hook, the
curve of which should be a full inch, through the
mouth and body of the bait, and bring the hook out
through the tail, so that part of the body may be
on the curve, in order to make the bait spin well.
Then, with a needle, sew up the mouth of the bait,
and fasten it tightly to the hook to prevent its
slipping. This done, attach two good swivels to
the line, and let out thirty yards as the boat is
gently rowed. One rod from each side the boat
will keep all clear.
Having thus provided ourselves, we proceeded to
row round the lake, which is of about two or three
miles in length, and, in places, of about one broad :
nor had we traversed far, before an halloo from the
major indicated his success. He had taken a sea
trout of four or five pounds. While he was holding
up the fish for our admiration, a sudden check was

THE BOG RIVER. 105
given to one of my own rods, and a clattering of
the reel called me into action. This was a good be
ginning ; for, in a few minutes, I was in possession
of a lake trout of about six pounds. I did not,
however, succeed so well afterwards ; for, though
there were several runs, the inconvenient manner
in which the hook is necessarily placed defeated its
object. By this mode of fishing it more frequently
happens that the hook takes effect outside the
mouth, as the running fish always seizes its prey in
the middle.
Having now arrived at the top of the lake, we
entered a fine rapid river. It was my turn to in
struct the major ; my tackle soon changed — I
produced the salmon-roe.
Owen began to smile in anticipation of the sur
prise by which the major and his crew would be
overwhelmed, as I trudged up the rocky banks.
This is a river which feeds the upper lake, and is
apparently its principal spring. It falls from the
mountains through a long chain of cataracts and
alternate bog valleys, which, though difficult and
sometimes dangerous to get through, will amply
repay the enterprising bait-fisher who shall visit it.
At Killarney the fly or trailing only are in use,
neither of which is suited to the fishing of a river
of this description. Yet it is in this river, being
the head of the lakes, that the fish are commonly
F 5

106 THE FATAL BAIT.
found of the best order and size. A fly would be
useless on the surface of the boiUng whirlpools
below the cataracts, and trailing impossible.
Having loaded my line with a heavy bullet, I
stopped at the first fall, and commenced the fatal
mode of angling. Fatal — as I believe it to be the
only certain mode of taking trout, salmon, and all
of that order, without reference to weather or
season. The major was incredulous, and smiled. Having
examined my tackle and the bait, he pronounced it
more curious than effective, and was certain, what
ever effect it might produce elsewhere, it could avail
nothing in Ireland.
" By the powers, but that's an odd kind of fish
ing," said the major, whose countenance had under
gone a complete change as he saw me deliberately
land a fine trout of two pounds, and immediately
drop my Une into the same place. Trout after
trout appeared in continued succession, till the
major declared he would burn his flies, for the true
secret of fishing remained yet to be learned.
" The divil a fish any soul but yourself can ex
tract from this execrable river," exclaimed the
major, " though we all well knew that the finest
fish are to be found up this stream in the spring.
Netting is out of the question — flies useless —
groping impossible — so that we have been always

THE SACRED RIVER. 107
constrained to regard this bog as holy ground,
which would never repay the angler for traversing."
Here was the day's best sport, but, as I felt that
it was at the expence of the major's pleasure, after
having secured a dozen fine fish from one fall, I put
up my tackle, resolved when alone to revisit this
river, and abandon the fly-fishing on the lake. Some
few days after I did so ; and putting up at a little
cabin on the Kenmare road, six miles from Kil
larney, and dignified by the name of the half-way
house, I had incredible success on the banks of the
stream. The only drawback was the wretched ac
commodation at night, it being nothing more than
a pallet and what covering my own clothes afforded,
used blanket-wise ; while the whole culinary cata
logue of the hut was comprised in one pot to boil
potatoes. If, however, any succeeding angler
should, warned by my example, take with him all
the necessaries, he will find the poor people willing
to afford him all they have — their labour and atten
tion ; while the sacred river — for so I must term
it — will prove an inexhaustible fund of amuse
ment. On our return homeward we again landed at the
cottage belonging to Lord Kenmare, which contains
a room for the accommodation of visiters, and
affords a decent salle a manger for those who bring
the mangibles with them. Although persons live

108 A LAKE DINNER.
at the cottage, and, under the hope of very con
siderable and disproportionate remuneration, afford
you an opportunity of cooking, yet they are permit
ted to sell nothing. If, instead of this kind of rental,
his lordship had procured a proper licence to aUow
some decent person to sell for the relief of visiters
on the lake, who are frequently overtaken by un-
"expectedly boisterous weather, and who have not
provided themselves, the accommodation had been
more complete. Here, however, the foresight of
the major was not at fault. A collection of all his
little household would afford was quickly spread
before us, and, I believe, the air of the lakes had
well qualified us to do all his preparations justice.
We made trial ofthe large lake trout, which, though
of a deeper red than the salmon, was not equal in
flavour to the inviting appearance. It was dry,
and required the assistance of condiments, with
which, of course, we were not provided. The
smaller trout, however, are delicious. They should
be scored crosswise, and put on a gridiron ; no
further preparation is requisite to render them a
most agreeable dish.
Our repast finished, we returned through the
pass; and the major, having reloaded his gun,
repeated the experiment of the echoes ; but they
were by no means so clear or distinct, as by this
time the wind had arisen. To hear them under

TURK LAKE. 109
every advantage, the day should be still ; the rever
berations are then perfect.
Having regained the lower lake, we found that
it had lost all its solitary grandeur. Numerous
boats floated on its surface ; parties, accompanied
by flags and bands of music (if so execrable an
association of performers can be so called), were
every where seen and heard, while we made the
best of our way to Turk Lake.
This, after an hour's hard row, we reached.
Turk Lake is separated from the grand, or lower
lake, by a range of islands. There are two passages
into it ; that by the side of Denis island, on the
' Glena side, is the most convenient, and certainly
the most agreeable route.
On entering the lake the ear is immediately
arrested by the sullen roar of a distant cascade,
which falls through a chasm which separates Turk
from Mangerton mountain, and forms one continued
sheet of foam from the fall to the basin below, and
thence, through a bridge, joins the lake. Although
this lake is generally esteemed the best for the
sportsman, and does sometimes yield trout of a
better character than either the upper or lower
lake, the height of the mountains, which on all sides
surround it, renders it generally so calm that few
opportunities exist of effectually throwing the fly
on its waters.

110 LAKE GUTANE.
After some attempts, which were attended by no
success, I proposed to proceed to the fall, and again
try the bait under the cataract. Here I was again
successful ; and, after having secured several fine
specimens of the dark lake trout, the major seized
my hand in an exstacy of delight, and protested
that I was the only English angler whom he had
ever believed understood any thing of the art. He
insisted on my passing one day more with him on
the lake, at the top of Mangerton, to which, the
next morning, we proceeded.
The lake to which I allude is Lake Gutane, four
miles from Killarney. We arrived there in my
pony gig, and found a boat in waiting. The fly
was not attempted, as, in this lake, trout of fifty
and sixty pounds are to be found, which can only
be taken by trailing. Here Lady Headley suc
ceeded in landing a trout of twenty- seven pounds
weight. Although that size is considered ordinary,
it was spoken of as an exploit worthy of being re
corded ; performed, as it was, by a lady.
For two hours we were wholly unsuccessful, until
a breeze, or rather a gale of wind, began to create
some anxiety as to our power of keeping the wind
ward side of the lake. With the boat running
rapidly before the wind, smash went the rod in the
middle. Owen secured the butt, and we now found
ourselves in a most dangerous position. To abandon

A LAKE TROUT. 1 1 1
the fish, which, was obviously a monster, was im
possible ; indeed, had certain destruction been be
fore Owen, he would never have yielded his hold.
Meanwhile, the boat was drifting rapidly towards
the rocks, and I was myself obliged to seize the oars;
and employing all the strength of which I was master,
hailed, in terms of distress, the major, who, in the
other boat, made the best of the way to our as
sistance. Here, indeed, the major was great. He
jumped from his own boat to our's, directing the
lads to take us in tow, and brought the trout to the
best bearing he could with the broken tackle. An
hour at least was employed before we could safely
anticipate success. The fish was sullen, and would
frequently betake himself to the bottom, whence,
until he pleased, it was impossible to dislodge him.
Luckily, however, he ran towards the middle of
the lake, and we were safe from the rocks which
threatened danger to ourselves and release to him.
" Forty pounds, on the honour of a British
officer!" exclaimed the major.
I ventured to express my disbelief.
" Forty pounds to an ounce ; feel him."
The major placed the rod for a moment in my
hands. The effect was that of being fast to a log
of wood, which occasionally rose and descended —
nothing more. After the major had gradually
reeled up a great portion of his line, before he or

112 THE WEIGHT.
any of us expected it, the creature gave a bound
from the surface, three or four yards high, and ex
hibited, indeed, one of the monsters of the Loch
Gutane. The major's dexterity was now really
worthy of admiration. The rod was down in a
moment, so that his antagonist took nothing by his
leap. That was his last effort ; he soon appeared
on the surface, occasionally shewing the whiteness
of his stomach, and was cautiously and safely gaffed
by Owen.
The length was two feet one inch and a quarter,
which, however, was very disproportionate to his
weight ; he appeared to have grown only in thick
ness and breadth ; and, on our weighing him in the
evening, at the major's cottage, he proved to be just
nineteen pounds and some ounces.
The major protested he never was out before —
that my tackle had deceived him — and protested
that he despised the capture from the unnecessary
trouble he had given.
I, several times during my stay at Killarney,
fished this lake with no better success than two or
three trouts of from two to five pounds : and,
although I do not doubt that there are still to be
found fish of from forty to fifty pounds, yet the
distance is too great to enable the sportsman to fish
for those of the larger size at the proper time, viz.,
at daybreak in the morning, or late in the evening.

NIGHT-FISHING. 113
The road down the mountain is dangerous, and
though I intended for this purpose to have passed
one night on the banks of the lake for the pur
pose alluded to, so many new and interesting
scenes of action presented themselves, that I did not
realize my intention. It would be quite worth a
night's trial ; and I am assured that the enterprising
sportsman who would fish during the night with a
very light-coloured trout, well swivelled, would
be rewarded by a prize worthy his perseverance.
The lake is very little known, and less attempted,
from its dreary position among the most frightful
mountains which even this wfld scenery presents.

114

THE RIVERS.

THE GAP AND CASTLE OF DUNLOE.

CHAPTER VIIL
The River3 — Residences of James and John O'Conneli — Lord
Kenmare — The Gap of Dunloe — Major Mahony — Beaufort
Bridge — Residence of Mr. Mullins, Member for Kerry —
The River Lawne — Excellent Sport — Izaak Walton — The
Major incredulous — Sporting extraordinary — A Cure for
every thing — Killarney Scandal — Lord Headley — The Irish
Agents — A Stag-Hunt in the Lake — Extraordinary Scene of
Irish Jollity- Timber-Hunting in the Bogs — Extinct Animals
— Unpopularity of Lord Kenmare — Reasons for it — Beauties
and Merits of Killarney as a Watering Place.
Having now tried all the lakes, I took leave of
the major's kind surveillance, and, accompanied by
Owen, proceeded to try the rivers ; the most beauti
ful of which is that which carries the united waters
of the lakes into the Castlemain Bay, and thence

THE RIVER LAWNE. 1 15
into Dingle Bay and the Atlantic. This river,
which is in the lower part continually disturbed
by netting for salmon, is little fished by the angler ;
the lakes presenting a much broader expanse, and a
much more convenient bosom for the fall of the fly.
There is a good road by the side of the lake, by
which are passed the residences of James O'Conneli
and John O'Conneli, brothers of the immortal
Daniel, and gentlemen of independent possessions ;
retired in their mode of living, and, I believe,
highly respected and beloved by all parties, even
here, where the perverse conduct of Lord Kenmare,
himself a Catholic and a professed reformer, has
occasioned a dissension among those who are pro
fessedly liberal in their politics.
The fall of the stream from the lake is at first
hardly perceptible, but increases as it advances to
a noble river ; it is bounded by varied and bold
banks, covered with trees, and, to the fly-fisher,
almost inaccessible. It here receives several tribu
taries, and, if the lakes of Killarney were absent,
would alone form a fishing station of no ordinary
promise. Passing along its banks, we arrive at the
opening, celebrated as the Gap of Dunloe, at the
foot of which is situated the residence of Major
Mahony. It is a wild and sudden severance of the
mountains which confine the lake, through which
there is a mountain pass, and now a road of con-

116

THE GAP OF DUNLOE.

siderable picturesque beauty. The entrance to the
Gap is very narrow, and the mountains on either
side are perpendicular. The pass is directed by
the side of a small black lake — black from the
reflection of the high and perpendicular mountains
which overshadow it: — and narrows so fearfully, yet
so wildly, that many have failed in achieving the
ascent from the horror which is calculated to over
whelm timid and nervous persons.
These magnificent scenes, which make the
passes of Borrowdale and the Devil's Bridge mere
nature's toys, the angler will leave unexplored,
and pursue his journey to Beaufort Bridge, a
handsome structure, leading to the lodge and
park of the Honourable Mr. Mullins, member for
Kerry.

BEAUFORT BRIDGE.

BRIDGE-FISHING. 117
Into the park the angler may enter, without let
or hindrance ; the porter of the lodge will civilly
open the gate for his admission, and, though the
grounds for nearly a mile on the banks are beau
tifully and tastefuUy laid out, he wUl find him
self free as air to pursue his sport. In all pro
bability he will receive an invitation to avail himself
of the accommodation of the house, which stands at
no great distance from the river.
From March to May there is no better sport for
the angler, content to seek what is here called the
brown trout, than may be found in the river Lawne.
Its extent is about twelve miles, seven of which
are well calculated for the salmon-roe ; and here,
on Owen's arrival with the pony, and such refresh
ments as I had ordered him to bring, I had, from
the bridge falls alone, extracted upwards of eighty
of good size and in exceUent season. Owen had
now given up all surprise at the use of the bait,
and confessed he was no fisherman. He, therefore,
occupied his time in laying the cloth, which he
had brought, on the green lawn, before the house
of Mr. MuUins, and close to the verge of the river.
A neighbouring cottage added to our treat the
luxuries of hot potatoes and boiled trout ; and, as
we sat down to our repast, I threw my line into the
river and lodged my rod on a tree. Not a moment
had I to enjoy Owen's ample arrangements; no

118 THE ANGLER'S PHILOSOPHY.
sooner had I selected my fare than a tug at the rod
required my attention ; and, indeed, so magical
was the bait, that it appeared (which I believe to
be the fact) to have congregated the fish. My
success on this river was so great, that I fear to
weary my reader by recounting it ; but it must be
remembered that this mode of fishing was wholly
new, and that the bank, from which my rod^was
suspended, was covered with trees, and consequently
impervious to the fly-fisher.
The visit to the river Lawne was pregnant with
amusement, constituted of that calm and reflective
enjoyment, which is the true source of the
fascinating art ; — covered with the now abundant
foliage from the sun's rays — our meal spread on
the turf — the inspiring spring-note ofthe numerous
birds ; and, above all, the exciting success of the
day brought to my fullest recognition the peaceful
delights of our father and friend Izaak, who, albeit
unused to this mode of securing trout, enjoyed all
the pleasures of the more moderate victory over
the roach, chub, and dace. One of bis maxims I
have never omitted to act on — one which I can
confidently recommend as the grand panacea for
all the annoyances of the world — one that will
outlive the rest — " study to be quiet."
On our return to Killarney, I found myself pos
sessed of upwards of eighty fine trout, varying from

THE MAJOR INCREDULOUS. 119
one quarter to two pounds, and began to consider
how I should dispose of so monstrous a store. I
at length resolved to despatch the whole to the
major, who, knowing better than myself how they
would be properly distributed, would, I was assured,
apply them to the use of the really deserving poor.
It is a fault among anglers that sufficient care is
not taken in the disposal of their produce. It is
his duty to seek proper objects on whom to bestow
the fruit of his success, and this determination
reconciles his amusement with the object of use
fulness. In a short time the major was with me ; and I
lost no time, in my really comfortable lodgings, in
ordering a supply of the " matarials." He pressed
my hand with an ardour which, I was sure, denoted
that I had risen in his respect, and I saw I was
fixed for an evening.
" What size is your EngUsh net?" said the major.
« Net ? — I never used one."
" Be aisy ; let Owen produce it ; d'ye mean to
assert here to me — an officer holding her Majesty's
commission under a rascally government — to me,
who have fished these lakes and streams ever since
the year 17 — , that that load of fish came out of
the Lawne by the help only of a rod ? — impossible ! "
<f Never mind, major ; it is true."
fC Then you will depopulate Ireland with your

120 THE PANACEA.
magic bait ; and the sooner I give you your biUet
and route, the better it wiU be for the fishermen
who remain behind. But you must not leave to
morrow. At six I have ordered you to be chanti-
cleered — to view the stag-hunt — it wiU be a
glorious day."
I readily ceded aU my previous arrangements to
this occasion, and gave my promise to attend the
major at his appointment for the next day.
As the matarials attenuated, I found the major
relax into his old disposition to communicate the
wonders of sporting, and, indeed, of aU other
things ; and the evening closed with a description
of the effect of some grand medicine, which, being
of the quack order, possessed, of course, the most
contradictory virtues, and was equally applicable to
every species of disorder or accident.
" Cure? by the powers, and nothing can equal
the grand preservative ! it cures all diseases and
mends all mischiefs. If you won't believe me,
hear what happened to myself, which, without the
aid of this extraordinary medicine; you would
have never heard. I was drying powder for grouse-
shooting, and had, for that purpose, spread it on
a large sheet of paper, before the fire; whue
stirring it, some unlucky spark fell on the stuff,
and blew us all up together. Away went one of
my arms here, another there; my head into the

KILLARNEY SCANDAL. 121
ceiling, and my tail out of the doorway. I was a
lamentable sight to look upon, as I could not be
seen at all, but by three or four different looks.
' The cordial/ exclaimed I ; the cordial was brought
— poured into my mouth; the first draught brought
back my legs, the next my arms, to their proper
places ; the third attached the trunk to the rest ;
and I was whole and sound as ever ! "
I had also the several facts, that, at one stag-
hunt, the animal had dived from one island and
come up at another, two miles distant; and also that
a boatman, who had seized one by the horns as the
hunted deer was swimming, had securely mounted
his back, and fairly traversed the lake, throwing a
fly and catching trout at the same time.
Although these stories seem monstrous, they all
undoubtedly had some foundation; and the good
humour and kindliness of heart, which were
manifested in the major's every act, had begotten
for him an indulgence in his amplification, on
which no one who knew him would be desirous of
trenching. Of the scandal — for even here the curse of all
small towns among the residents, in which every
person's business is every other person's business,
has not been spared — of the scandal of Killarney
there was an abundant crop ; but, as it referred to
persons whose influence might have gained, if
VOL. i. G

122 LORD HEADLEY.
properly directed, the respect of all classes, but
who had secured that of none, I shall decline to
record it. Among the landlords, however, I must
except Lord Headley, who does not employ a con
ceited, overbearing, and tyrannical agent, to beard
him on his own domain, and exercise, with oppres
sive exactions, all the powers which ought to centre
in his employer who exercises none. The real
proprietors of the soil in Ireland know little of the
wants of their sub- dependants. To avoid the
direct intercourse with persons so generally poor
and destitute, the whole authority is usually
delegated to some attorney, whose interests are too
much bound up in the amount of the rent-roU and
his own per centage to allow much indulgence in
sympathy; while all the tenants and dependants
look to him, and him only, as the real master of
the soil, the arbiter of their fates, and the autocrat
who may, at wiU, thrust them forth from their
home and birth-place.
The morning arrived, and with it came the
major and his posse comitatus, to escort me to the
lake, to witness, and, if need were, to assist in the
stag-hunt. The weather was boisterous, and even
dangerous, for I shall be well understood by any
nautical .reader when I describe the seas of the
lakes in a gale as singularly short and rapid.
Nothing but keeping the boat's head to wind will

STAG-HUNT. 123
brave the difficulty ; and, on embarking, even the
major expressed some apprehension. Seeing,
however, others start, we set forth ; the major at
the helm, encouraging his little crew, among whom
Owen was now associated, much to his disapproval.
I would not understand his winks ; and, amid the
roaring of the winds, and the shouts of the as
sembled parties, our little launch was pulled out.
The rendezvous was at Innisfallen ; and, I believe,
every boat that the lake afforded was crowded by
visiters and others, who were seeking to congre
gate on the island, forming a motley group not very
easy to describe. Numerous parties were already on
the island ; some dancing to the pipers, who had
severally selected some flat spot for their adherents,
while many, too great or too affected to join in the
general hilarity, contented themselves with a dig
nified parade.
The major and myself joined the dance till the
cry was heard that the stag was started. A hun
dred bugles from all directions of the lake now
summoned each party to their boats, which crowded
the shores of the island, and ludicrous were the
scenes of apprehension, screaming, and splashing,
as the lake, now wild with storm, dashed its angry
spray over the dignified segregators. Many boats
put back to the lee of the island ; but the major,
relying on the skill of his little crew and his own
G 2

124 STAG-HUNT.
steady hand at the helm, set forth, and we arrived
at the opposite shore just as the hounds were
descending to the strand. Splash went the affrighted
animal into the lake, amid the shouts of the hun
dred boatmen who were immediately at utmost
stretch to follow him.
Each crew was now put to the test of strength,
and I must record the fact, that the major was not
last; the shores were crowded with spectators —
the mountains reverberated the sounds in continued
echoes — the clamping of a thousand oars — the
resounding bugles from the boats — the cries of
cargoes upset in the melee — the alarm of the
drowning, and the shouts of the foremost, raised
altogether a din that must fail in description.
The chase, however, was not of long continuance.
The sea was too high to allow the tired animal a
chance, and he was secured by two boats in a state
of exhaustion that took from the captor all the
credit of difficulty or danger. The stag was then
reconducted to his native wood, and turned loose
for a future day.
Although I give this short account of the stag-
hunt at Killarney, I must, in justice, observe, that
it afforded me individually no pleasure. The whole
arrangements were artificial, and therefore, to the
true sportsman, uninteresting. It is a piece of ab
surd pageantry ; the only amusing part of which

BOGS. 125
is the assemblage, after all is over, at the island of
Innisfallen, where every true and loyal Killarney-
man thinks it his duty to dance and get drunk, if
he should have the misfortune to be sober for the
rest of the year. The evening, however, unlike
other Irish festivals, passed peacefully ; and, with
the exception of a few broken heads and one or two
drownedj on returning to the main land, the stag-
hunt at Killarney was fraught with no particular
consequence. The deer which is preserved in the woods in the
neighbourhood, and which furnishes the hunt, is
of the red species, and was originally brought from
France. Although they are still found in a wild
state in Scotland, I believe Devonshire and Corn
wall are the only counties in which they are now
found in England. With the wolves they appear
to have been destroyed in Ireland ; once, doubtless,
productive of those of a much larger and more
splendid character of deer, now extinct.
The bogs of Ireland were once woods — the proof
of which exists in the fact, that, in all parts, trunks
of trees of immense size are found ; and even now
the traveller will not unfrequently find the natives
boring, by long iron rods, to search for timber.
Having discovered the existence of some hard sub
stance, which they immediately recognize as timber,
they proceed by continued boring to ascertain its

126 THE ELK.
length, and the depth from the surface, and by
these discoveries decide whether the exhumation
would be worth the labour. The timber so dis
covered is hard as iron, and perfectly black, and it
is not extravagant to believe many have been thou
sands of years imbedded in the bog, its preservation
being accounted for by the total exclusion of the
atmospheric air. The Rev. Mr. Isaacson, in passing
one of these numerous tracts where persons were
thus employed, discovered the head and horns of
an immense animal ; the former considerably larger
than a bullock's, and the horns standing nearly seven
feet high, and of a weight which could hardly be
lifted by one person. The proportionate dimen
sions of such a creature must have been enormous ;
but, with the destruction of the woods, by some
convulsion of nature which philosophers have not
explained, also fell this noble race of deer.*
Wolves, however, still escaped; for we find a
presentment made to the grand jury for their de
struction in the county of Cork, so late as 1710;
the inhabitants then complaining of their devasta
tion. I cannot take my leave of Killarney without
complaint. Of the habits and dispositions of the
* The horns and head ofthe elk were presented by Mr, Isaac
son to the late Duke of Beaufort, in whose possession they now
are.

THE LANDLORD. 127
people I do not complain : they have been formed
by the foUy of loose, idle, and indiseriminating
visiters, who have sought a momentary popularity
by gross and mischievous extravagance, the effect
of which has been to give a very unfavourable im
pression to their successors of the Irish character.
No such impression ought to be encouraged, as
nothing can be more deceptive. The complaint I
make is of the pomp and folly of the resident land
lord, who, ,though extolled in the highest terms by
the late Mr. Inglis, in his galloping tour through
Ireland, is admitted even by him as " far from being
so popular among a certain class as he deserves to
be." I must add, that the class referred to is a very
numerous one. The proud obstructions of high
walls, around that part of the lake which belongs
to him, shutting even from the view of an ordinary
walker the objects he has come to Killarney to see
— the restrictions placed upon landing from the lake,
on what is termed his lordship's domain — the ap
parently studied insults offered by his servants and
agents to all strangers — the deliberate sacrifice of
the interests of the liberal party, to which he has
always professed to belong, to his own jealousy of
the influence and power of a much greater man —
one from whom benefits or injuries, whichever they
be, extend over the whole of Ireland ; — all these
things may perhaps better account for his " not
being so popular as he deserves to be."

128 THE FAREWELL.
The " fear " of Mr. Inglis may have been ac
counted for, and the great praise bestowed on his
lordship may have even unconsciously emanated
from the fact which ultimately creeps out, that
Mr. Inglis " had likewise the advantage of Lord
Kenmare's boat and rowers, and of the particular
instructions they had received from his lordship."
But Killarney is beautiful, and deserves to be
visited. In liberal hands it would be the most de
lightful of watering-places. Its proximity to the
sea — its native attractions — its cheapness — all
combine to render it the most delightful retreat to
families seeking retirement, economy, and health.
And, amid all the faults of the population, it should
be observed, that a people more free from crime,
and more peaceable, cannot be found. Their po
verty and their idleness are chargeable on others.

BLACKWATER BRIDGE.

129

BLACKWATER BRIDGE.

CHAPTER IX.

Kenmare — Blackwater — Liberality of the Rev. D. M  . —
Irish Cunning and Roguery — O'Rourke, the Salmon-Poacher
— Story of O'Rourke and the Magistrate — Gaffing at the Falls
— The Poacher in Exile — The Flood — Singular Habits of the
Salmon — Ascent of the Hills — A Sudden Storm, and its con
sequences — Perils and Escapes — Fatal Catastrophe at Clydah
— The whole ofthe Cattle and Inhabitants destroyed by a Flood.

From Killarney to Kenmare, 14 miles.
The most unfrequented, yet by far the most
magnificent scenery, lies between Killarney and
Kenmare. The latter is a small town, containing
G5

130 BLACKWATER RIVER.
a good inn ; seldom, however, boasting any other
guests than the poorer attendants of the markets,
and the occasional visits of the tourist. Although,
on arrival at the town, little beyond a wild and
barbarous country meets the eye, the road wiU
amply repay the journey. One miserable cot alone,
dignified by the name of a half-way house, breaks
in upon the general impression which steals over
the mind, that the traveller is passing through an
uninhabited country. The succession of mountains,
displaying all the varied grandeur which forms so
distinguishing a characteristic of Kerry, is here in
cessant, till, having traversed the now well-planned
road fourteen miles, the sea bursts upon the view as
suddenly as beautifully.
My view of visiting the Blackwater, a river cele
brated for its fishing, though by English travellers
little known, prevented my staying at Kenmare.
This river presents to the tourist and the angler at
least a fortnight's varying amusement ; and, in the
liberality and kindness of the Rev. D. M  ,
whose property it is, full reliance may be placed.
His establishment is the oasis of the desert, while
all around presents nothing but wild neglect and
desolation : not an acre of land for miles under
cultivation. The strictness with which this river has been
preserved has rendered nearly all the scattered in-

THE SALMON-HUNTER. 131
habitants adepts in the art of fly-fishing ; and even
his domestic servants have been afflicted with the
general desire to assist in gaffing, spearing, and
hunting the salmon, although it has been always
held a serious crime.
While I partook of an early breakfast, among
others, who, like myself, were allured to the county
by the high reputation it bears for sport of every
kind, our host made frequent inquiries for one
O'Rourke. At last O'Rourke appeared. There
was a conscious knavery in his countenance, an
archness in the eye, which betrayed the motive of
our host's inquiries.
" Are there any salmon in the river, O'Rourke ?"
O'Rourke smiled, scarcely knowing whether he
ought or ought not to answer the question. At
length an imperious repetition ofthe inquiry brought
a confused reply : " To be sure your honour knows
right well ; how should I know, your honour ?
sure it isn't for the likes of me to be looking for
salmon, or peering about the river any way."
" I ask you, sir, if there are any salmon in the
river t
" There are seven, your honour, in tlie first
lodge, and eighteen in the upper pool."
" Then you do know."
" Plase your honour, I don't pretind to know
more than the rest, but the fish will show them-

132 THE SALMON-HUNTER.
selves, your honour, and one can't help seeing
them, your honour."
" That will do. Be ready with the gaff."
" To be sure and I shall, your honour."
The light flashed from his eye, as, with a hasty
step, he retreated from the room evidently over
joyed. " That," said our host, " is the best salmon-
fisher and the greatest knave on my estate. Not
withstanding the terror of dismissal, and the utter
starvation which would be consequent on it, such
is his propensity to poach salmon, that no con
sideration of this kind can restrain him. Salmon -
catching is, indeed, a constitutional disease with
him, and I am compelled to give especial orders to
my keepers to be ever on the look-out against
all poachers, and especially against O'Rourke.
Although he is now nothing more than a labourer
on my estate, he was once in a higher employment ;
and such was the pleasure my father took in his
company, especially when fishing, that he might
have taken any liberty save that only of catching
salmon. The cause of his degradation, however, was
the irrepressible love of salmonry, which overbore
aU other considerations. It was his office to carry
my father across the stream, which, as you may
have observed, is, in many parts, exceedingly shal
low and broad ; yet, during the floods, to which we

THE SALMON-HUNTER. 133
are sometimes subject, we have found bridges of
little avail. It was the old gentleman's custom to
visit his summer-house on the opposite side, and
O'Rourke's duty to carry him across the stream, as
the gout had at that time rendered him wholly
helpless. About a year before his death, O'Rourke
was performing his office with due care, and had
already reached the middle of the stream with his
gouty burden, when, as though struck with sudden
madness, and uttering an Irish scream indicative
of joy, he precipitated the old gentleman headlong
into the stream, and threw himself into a hole
which was close to the spot. Fortunately, my
father recovered the sitting posture, and, perhaps,
as fortunately, had presence of mind to keep it,
although the stream was rapidly flowing as high as
his arms. His screams brought assistance from
the neighbouring cottage, whereupon O'Rourke
jumped up with a monstrous salmon in his hands,
which he held up by the gills. The curses of the
old gentleman brought him to his senses; he
awoke to the terror of his situation, which he knew
would, during the paroxysm of his master, be
fraught with danger. Throwing down, therefore,
the salmon on the bank, he took to his heels, and
was never heard of for at least a month.
" On regaining his home, the first business of the
enraged magistrate was to grant his general war-

134 THE SALMON-HUNTER.
rant for the apprehension of O'Rourke ; and, had he
been then found, I do not doubt but that sentence
of instant execution would have been passed against
him. No warrant, however, avaUed ; he was not
to be found.
" It was not till some time had elapsed when a
sportsman, who well knew the worth of O'Rourke
as a companion, dining with the still offended
magistrate, to whom this enormity was detailed in
accounting for O'Rourke's absence, and detailed
with all the serious indignation of one mortally
aggrieved, that a petition was presented for the
culprit's pardon. This, with great difficulty, was
at length obtained, and proclamation being made
forthwith, the delinquent came out of his retreat,
which had been no other than the immense mass of
rocks which form the last fall of the river. Here
had he endured a month's imprisonment, living on
shell-fish, obtained from the shore, which was
within a few yards of the spot, and perhaps
mainly assisted by the better fare which the river
suppUed. Nothing, however, could wholly recon
cile my father to him, and, though restored to his
employment on the estate, yet has O'Rourke never
held up his head since he plunged the magistrate
in the river to catch a salmon with his hands."
Armed with the gaff, O'Rourke, myself, and
fidus Achates Owen, now set off for the river.

GAFFING AT THE FALLS. 135
When arrived there, I was somewhat amused at
O'Rourke's account of the mode of life he had
adopted while in retreat. The bridge, which is
sixty feet above the rocks, where the last fall
mingles the river with the sea, is ofthe wildest and
most picturesque construction. After having shown
us the precise hole where he boiled his potatoes at
night, and the upper part of the hollow, which, on
dried sea-weeds, he had made his bed, with the
nimbleness of a monkey, though at that time at
least sixty years of age, he jumped from one ledge
of rocks to another, till he had gained the point of
one which overhung the descending torrent, and
there, with gaff in hand, awaited his opportunity.
Strange as it may appear, this spot, if it could be
maintained during the increasing flood after rains,
would present continual opportunities of gaffing
the salmon and sea-trout as they endeavour to
jump the fall.
" Ah, your honour, we'll have a glorious flood
to-day." This prognostication was ' formed on an expe
rienced observation of the fiabits of the salmon.'
The river Blackwater is subject to< sudden floods
— torrents falling down from the immense range of
mountains, each containing its lake. These lakes
become sometimes overcharged, and it is not un
usual to find a simultaneous burst over the pre-

136 THE FLOOD.
cipitous falls of the stream, so that from a ripple to
a flood is the change of a moment. Indeed, some
parts Of the river are so shaUow, that a child may,
at every two or three hundred yards, ford it. On
the approach of a flood, of which the most expe
rienced inhabitants of these glens can, perhaps,
form no prescience, t he habits and instincts of the
salmon and trout from the sea are singularly
evinced-

mmm-mMe ¦

THE FLOOD.

The fall from the bridge, to which we have just
referred, forms a dark basin, protected on each
side by perpendicular rocks. Such, however, is the
transparency of the salt water, that, from the side
of the bridge, although so much elevated from the
level of the water, it is not uncommon to see

THE FLOOD. 137
crowds of salmon sulkily awaiting the increased
stream to make their first leap. Whenever, even
in the most settled state of the weather, and while
the river is nearly empty, excepting only the
occasional lodges, these fish are observed to con
gregate under the bridge, be sure of an impending
torrent. Convinced that, with this intimation from
O'Rourke, and the dull and dense atmosphere
above us, there would be little chance of sport, we
proceeded up the river; leaving O'Rourke at his
post, with the gaff, to supply the salmon for dinner.
As we ascended the hills by the side of the
river, the stream exhausted, the pools motionless and
transparent, the mists awfully capping the abrupt
and prodigious heights, by which, on all sides, we
were surrounded, weary with our walk towards
the first lake, which is one of the sources of the
stream (a journey undertaken more with the view
of marking the ground for future operations, than
with any hope of present sport), I despatched Owen
to the solitary house of the hills. It was the habi
tation of one, who, in this unhappy land, is termed
and esteemed a mountain farmer ; and within
five miles is no other cot. While I uselessly threw
a fly on the undisturbed surface, awaiting his
return, and ruminating on the solitary grandeur of
the scene, a sudden crash of thunder startled me ;

138 SUDDEN STORM.
and, looking towards the heavy ranges of mountain
which towered above me, I beheld black and
threatening masses, that, in any other country than
these regions, would not be described as clouds,
but as substantial volumes, portending some grand
catastrophe. I stood on the verge of the stream, on a jutting
rock, and turned quickly on these demonstrations
from above to reel up my line and prepare for my
retreat. There was an air of terror among the
cattle, which were here and there scattered about
the ledges of the river ; and, to my astonishment,
the rapidly increasing stream had already encom
passed me ; a new arm had been formed behind,
while the rising torrent threatened me before.
There was a scream of birds, whose wildness
seemed to belong to the sea ; and I could distin
guish human voices between the intervals of thun
der. At length I beheld Owen and the farmer, on
the opposite side of the river, directing me to some
mode of escape which I could not comprehend, and
using gesticulations of the utmost anxiety.
I now became seriously alarmed. Crash suc
ceeded crash ; the rain fell as in heavy volumes,
hardly separated into drops ; and I resolved to ford
the stream which had grown behind me, not con
ceiving that so short a period could have so won
derfully increased its depth. The first step con-

PERILOUS SITUATION. 139
vinced me of my error. I slipped from the rock,
on which I thought there was safe standing, and
was instantly immersed in eight or ten feet of a
rapid stream.
The first sensation which I recognized was a
blow of some severity on my shoulder. I had met
in my quick passage an obstacle, to which the pre
servation of my life was owing ; — it was a sharp
ledge of rocks, which formed the barrier to the
stream. By one of those prodigious efforts with
which in the moment of danger we are endowed, I
threw myself out of the course on the bank, and
now perceived that the current had already saved
me three or four hundred yards of my journey
homeward. Panting and shaken by the roar of thunder above,
and the dashing riot of the torrent below, I had but
time to remove the blinding water from my eyes ere
a fresh danger presented itself in the form of huge
masses of rock, which continuously fell into the
river, unable longer to endure the sudden shock.
A bog was before me, over which kn ew it to be
impossible to pass ; and I resolved to shelter myself,
as well as circumstances would allow, by a project
ing mass which still braved the current, until some
advice or assistance should be offered by Owen, who,
I knew, was on the look-out. Then it was, and for
the first time in my life, I beheld and felt the power

140 ESCAPE.
of the mountain storm. The enormous masses of
clouds simultaneously burst over my head, and, for
the few minutes they were discharging their un
equal weight of water, I was still drowning ; the
torrent being hardly greater below than above me,
and all seemed by one sudden convulsion to have
become a raging sea.
To ward off the power of the descending cataract,
I had covered my head with my hands, and, on
my knees awaiting my fate, my arm was suddenly
seized and I feU backwards, as I supposed, on some
demon of the stream : it was the drowning wretch,
who, to save me, had tempted the torrent's danger,
and now lay extended on the rock. I raised him
in my arms; he recovered quickly from his ex
haustion, and entreated me to swim the lesser
stream, as, in a few minutes, one more flood from
the mountains would inevitably entomb us both.
Desperation was in the effort : I made it and
succeeded, while my faithful mountaineer kept me
fast by the waist ; and I, being the taller of the
two, was enabled to afford him the assistance he
needed. The bog was to him well known. Under his
guidance it was soon traversed, and we arrived at
the farm-house with no further hurt than some
severe bruises and excessive cold.
The effects of these sudden storms were more

FLOOD OF THE CLYDAH. 141
deplorably manifested on the river Clydah, a stream
which falls into the Flesk, and thence into the lower
lake of Killarney. It is a shallow and rocky stream,
sometimes falling down cliffs and rocks of immense
height. Small as it usually is, it was once guilty
of terrible destruction.
In the year 1832, the month of June was singu
larly dry. Jhe 15th of that month put forth the
appearance of a brilliant day ; — the sun shone out
in unalloyed splendour, and diffused heat and life
around. On the banks of the Clydah might be
observed the rustic dwellings of numerous humble
families, and in the midst of them the mansion of
a gentleman who had devoted himself to the exer
cise of that hospitality which is almost the distin
guishing characteristic of the Irish ; at least, of
those who are unpolluted by the extravagance of a
residence in England. On the morning of the day
abovementioned, he was surrounded by his family ;
the cottagers were enjoying the loveliness of the
day ; the cattle every where grazing on the abun
dant verdure which covered the slopes towards the
river. Suddenly the sun became obscured — the
roar of distant thunder shook the dwelling — fear
started into every countenance — and, before any
had time to Communicate with another, a terrific
cataract rushed from the mountains, sweeping all
before it — bridges, cattle, houses, and their un-

142 THE CLYDAH.
lucky inhabitants, all hurled to an instant destruc
tion. Such was the fury of the flood, that rocks
of fifty tons weight were thrown from the bed of
the river into the adjoining fields — the habitations
of the poor retained no vestige of their existence —
bridges, built on granite, at once disappeared, and
the power of the flood reigned supreme. In one
hour all was again still. The river assumed its
usual form, trickling among the rocks, and here
and there forming a slight bay. The sun shone
forth with his accustomed splendour ; but the in
habitants, whose smiling dwellings had before given
a charm to the scene, were no more heard ! Every
human creature, whose habitation was on the banks
of the Clydah, suddenly perished, without warning
and without apparent cause.

A MOUNTAINEER. 143

CHAPTER X.

A Mountaineer — Harvest-Hunters — Kerry Agents — Influence
of the Catholic Clergy — Causes of that Influence — Safe Tra
velling in Ireland — Temper of the Irish Peasantry — Means
for Improving their Condition — Abundance of Wild Fowl —
The Secret.

The mountains about Kenmare are of the most
wild and stupendous order, and I am in doubt
whether the finest of the Swiss scenery in any
degree surpasses this. With mine host, whose
humble roof had sheltered myself and Owen, I re
mained the whole day, the waters not having sub
sided. He was a tenant of Lord  , whom he
had never seen or heard of in the country, farther
than that he is the proprietor of the soil. This
man's condition may be taken as the general one
of the mountain serfs. His family consisted of three
daughters, an aged mother, a wife, and two infant
sons. Being literally without aU other provisions,

144 A MOUNTAINEER.
I joined in their meals, which consisted of potatoes
alone, poured out on a table with a ledge. The
family stood around, and all partook of the humble
fare with a kind of contentment and cheerfulness
which would, I apprehend, be exhibited by no
other persons in the world. The refuse of the
meal was carefully collected and applied to the
feeding of some fowls, which the daughters kept
for the purpose of supplying clothing by their sale.
For this purpose alone does any of the family visit
a town ; and on such occasions they have to tra
verse an almost trackless country, shoeless. There
was no pig, the sign of prosperity in an Irish cabin ;
nor, on inquiry, did I find that any of the cotters
could afford to sustain this useful animal.
Notwithstanding the utter destitution of these
poor creatures, the man was by no means deficient
in intelligence ; and, from his inquiries as to what
was doing in parliament, and what measures Mr.
O'Conneli proposed to bring forward in aid of the
Irish, I learned that he had the means of acquiring
information on these subjects, which were seldom
in the power, even in England, of persons so
situated. The numerous families we meet with in
England, who come over to the harvest, are of this
order. He paid £&. 10s. for his cottage and plot.
Labour was at four-pence per day, when it could
be had, and that was seldom, as his own ground

HARVEST-HUNTERS. 145
required his care at the time labour was in
demand. The plot having been planted, the whole family
set off for Cork ; this they accomplish by carrying
with them as many potatoes as each can bear, and
the stock of fowls, which are disposed of at the first
town . They find no difficulty in traversing Ireland.
Every cabin is open to them, and the sympathy
and kindness of the lowest order of Irish poor for
each other are worthy of admiration. The duties
of charity to their fellow-beings are strongly incul
cated by the priests, and it is on this class alone
that their instructions appear to have full effect.
The houseless and destitute wanderer will seldom
want a meal of potatoes, or, at least, a contribution
towards one ; wherever he applies, his bag is bur
dened by the addition of a few potatoes, till the
whole amounts to a good meal. By this mode of
charity, the destitute are sustained from town to
town. Their passage-money, by a butter-boat from
Cork, is paid from the small proceeds arising from
the sale of the fowls ; they take, as their sea-store,
all the remains of the potatoes first boiled, and
generally arrive in Bristol utterly destitute. On
the road, one of a party gets employment, and the
earnings of one are amply sufficient for the suste
nance of the whole. They sleep in hovels, generally
by the permission of the farmers, through whose
vol. i. H

146 HARVEST-HUNTERS.
grounds they pass on their way to the interior of
England ; and, I believe, it is but justice to say,
that they have on no occasion been found guilty of
depredation. The harvest having commenced, they generally get
from two to three shillings a-day, all of which they
keep with the greatest care, sustaining, sometimes,
sixteen hours labour for successive days, without
better sustenance than potatoes and milk afford.
On preparing for return, one of the party care
fully sews up the whole of the earnings in some part
of his dress least likely to be examined, and they
proceed homewards, stiU exhibiting all the outward
destitution which accompanied their arrival. Ap
plications for assistance are regularly made, and
generally received at each parish through which
they pass homeward ; and so careful are they of
what smaU sums are given them in this way, that
out of them they frequently make an additional
store. Their journey homeward is prosecuted in the
same way, assisted by the kind contributions of the
poorest, for they never apply to the rich ; and, on
their arrival, the amount is carefully shared amongst
them, and their rents duly paid. By this time
their potatoes are fit for digging ; and, if the pro
duce be good, the family is sustained by them alone,
in the way I have described, for a considerable
portion of the year — while the few days' labour at

MOUNTAIN PEASANTRY. 147
four pence, or, at best, six pence per day, serves to
eke out the rags which can hardly be said to cover
them. It was in these annual migrations that
I discovered mine host had acquired his information
of subjects which never excite the inquiries of the
EngUsh poor.
Upon the completion of the second meal, I could
not help putting some questions : —
" Is this the way you usually live ? "
" Faith is it ; sometimes worse when the crops
are poor."
" And you live peaceably and cheerfully in this
way ? "
" Peaceably enough, your honour."
" But you are content ?"
" Your honour sees we are content. Content
till the liberator, aU honour to him, shah restore
our rights — give us labour and its value — not that
we should be content and peaceable without this.
Your honour sees the helpless old woman, and the
good girls there — better, children never breathed.
My heart has been sometimes near to breaking
when the crop has failed, and they have been
obliged to walk every day to the shore, six miles
off, to bring each a load of sea- weed as manure, at
two-pence per load. Many a time have I seen
them fainting under their burden ; but it was that
or death : they are good children."
H 2

148 KERRY AGENTS.
The poor fellow could hardly refrain from tears,
while the daughters, conscious that he was speaking
of them, left the hut.
" But why have you not sought the town in the
neighbourhood ; there would surely be respectable
employment for them ? "
" That might be, but I wouldn't part with my
children, and your honour knows little of the num
bers that are already starving in the towns : where
would they get kindness or assistance in sickness
and distress ? In your honour's country there
are poor-laws — hospitals ; and your people are not
left to die ; but here are none. I couldn't part
with my children, though, God knows, there is
little enough for us here, and our English jour
neys have not been so profitable as formerly : the
farmers refuse to employ us since some change
about the English poor ; and we are a small arrear
in rent, which the agent threatens to distrain for.
However, the fowls go next week, and we shall
make up that. But we are content — we must be
content." " Does the agent take no interest in your wel
fare?" " None."
" Does he never call ? "
" If the rent is in arrear. The country is bleak,
your honour : there is but one person who tra-

THE MOUNTAIN VISITER. 149
verses these mountains, or feels for the inhabitants
in a time of scarcity or of distress."
" And who is he ? "
" The priest."
" Does he visit you often ?"
" Whenever we require him."
" What remuneration can he receive from you ? "
" Remuneration ! "
" What do you give for the attendance required
of him in -sickness ?"
" Our thanks, our respect, and our love are all
he receives from us ; but he has these, and he
should have our hearts' blood, if it were wanting to
prove that he has them."
This devotion to the priesthood, throughout the
south of Ireland, has been the subject of the
grossest misrepresentations. Anathemas against
their influence and the abuse of it have been uttered
in both houses of parliament, at all public meetings,
and almost in all societies. To the superstitition
of the Romish church is that influence wholly
ascribed — the power given by confession, and the
utter darkness and ignorance in which its com
municants are held, are referred to as sufficiently
explaining the source of the blind obedience which
is paid to the Irish Catholic' clergy.
Religion has nothing whatever to do with it.
The influence they enjoy, and I every where took

150 THE PRIESTS.
occasion to seek information, arises from those
causes which — over the minds of an oppressed and
starving population, a population not deficient
in intelligence and warmth of feeling — would suc
ceed, under any religion, in achieving the same
results. Nothing can be more unjust than the violent
attacks made on this generally useful body ; and
it is to be lamented that those attacks are made in
places where they have no opportunity of defence,
where the audience is one-sided, and where they
themselves are unrepresented. Full of prejudice
against their supposed misdeeds, I sought every
where an introduction to the priests. I found them,
I may with truth say, universally well informed ;
many of them persons of the highest acquirements,
yet humble and content with the smallest remu
neration — they have no personal wants. They
have no famiUes to distract and divide their atten
tion, or to inspire the wish to possess and amass
wealth. The donations by which they are sup
ported are voluntary ; the performance of their
duties, severe as they sometimes are, exemplary.
They have, individually, and as a body, but one
grand object — the furtherance of the interests of
their religion, and the acquirement of the love and
respect of their people. That those objects are
achieved by the unceasing attention they pay to

THE PRIESTS. 151
all, in sickness and distress ; at the hour of mid
night, called from their beds to traverse a trackless
mountain to administer comfort to the sick and
dying, where not even the meanest accommodation
exists ; even under such circumstances the catholic
priest will be found watching by the departing, and
comforting the mourners. He is, in such districts
as these, the father and the friend. With this
what can the form of religion have to do? The
complaining protestant incumbent, who receives
for no service, because none is ever called for, the
ample income which is drawn, from the produce of
a soil already overcharged, from the poor earnings
of the poorest people in the world, joins in the out
cry, so universally set up in England, against the
priestly influence — the priestly dictation. Have
the protestant clergy ever used the same means ?
When did a protestant clergyman start from his
bed at midnight, at the call of a wretched cottager ?
When did he journey behind his guide over miles
of mountains, to administer comfort and the forms
of religion to beings in destitution, who have no
thing to offer in return but their gratitude. But
this is nightly the labour of the priest ; in this, and
the exercise of the kindly offices to his destitute
flock, consists his power ; and to the use of that
power, in a way deserving, if the truth were known,
- the highest commendation, is the internal peace of
Ireland mainly owing.

152 THE PRIESTS.
While I am on this subject, let me endeavour to
remove an impression which, much and unfairly,
militates against the interests of Ireland. The dis
tricts on which I now write are little known, because
little visited ; and, among inquirers on the subject,
I have found a distrust of the inhabitants — a sug
gestion of danger. There is none. Every English
man may be assured that in no country in the world
is he more safe. My route throughout Ireland
was out of the ordinary track — the sportsman will
always choose the most unfrequented paths — but,
during a residence of two summers, spent chiefly
in places little known to the English, I never ex
perienced a loss of any kind. The crimes of the
Irish poor, destitute as they are, are not those of
theft. But were property lost, an application to the
priest would immediately be the means of its resto
ration ; a general exhortation at the mass would
have that effect, while of personal violence there is
no instance. No stranger, I believe, was ever yet
molested among them. On the contrary, every
cottage would be open for his accommodation ; and
whatever it contained would be at the service of the
traveller. But let us not be deceived by the notion that the
Irish peasantry are or will be content in the state
of destitution to which they have been gradually
brought; let us not imagine that they are un-

PEASANTRY. 153
conscious of the deprivations they suffer, or of the
inequality of their lot, in comparison with other
nations. They will be found generally intelligent,
and even clever — they endure their fate in silence, it
may be, but in hope — they look, through their
priesthood, to the power of one man — a power,
which, originating in the instructions of the priest
hood, has been established by a daring perseverance
never before exercised in their behalf — a power,
which, as long as the oppressions of the people
last, wiU not only endure but increase.
It was said by Cobbett that the cultivation of
the potato was a misfortune — I believe it. It is
the lowest sustenance to which the human frame
can descend — below it, there is nothing but death.
To this, the absent landlord, the grasping middle
man, and the oppressive exaction of tithes, have
reduced all the rural districts of Ireland — one step
further, and destitution and despair wiU be fraught
with their natural results. Why should they
starve? Why should any people starve? It is
against the common law of nature, which is, above
aU, the law of society. If regard for the law, and
obedience to its mandates, bring death — nature
cries out, break it, and live. It is a cry not to be
resisted — it is a cry that will be obeyed.
Contending interests and factions repress the me
lioration of the condition of the Irish peasantry. It
h5

154 THE DEPARTURE.
is not poor laws, for the peasantry are exemplary in
their kindness to their relations — it is not hospitals or
subscriptions — it is the residence of their landlords,
and employment for a now redundant population . It
is the reclamation of lands, to meet the demands
of an increasing people — it is the establishment of
manufactures on the broad and splendid streams,
which every where irrigate the country — to give a
market for produce, and wages to the labourer.
The first of them would produce all the latter —
the first would reinstate the poor, and, perhaps,
bring the lord of the soil to some slight knowledge
of the state of those thousands who starve under
his dominion, wanting only the legitimate direction
and aid to which they have a just and irrefragable
claim. The surprise and gratitude which beamed in the
countenance of mine host and his wife, as I placed
a small sum in the hand of the infant while takine
leave, showed how far I had exceeded their expec
tations, and how Uttle accustomed they were to
kindness of any sort. There was an indisposition
to receive it, and a protestation that they were too
happy to have had the honour of sheltering me;
all which being overcome by my request that they
would refer to it no more, the man requested to be
allowed to accompany us over the mountain pass.
I again visited the banks of the river— it had

WILD FOWL. 155
faUen to its ordinary volume — arid all the flats
were covered with sea-fowl, attracted, no doubt,
by the shoals of small white trout, with which the
river, after the storm, abounded. Among the rest,
the cormorants were numerous, pieces of rock, which
jutted from the river, being here and there covered
in one dense mass. My gun was now in requisition
— so unaccustomed were these animals to any an
noyance from man, perhaps even to his sight, that
I found no difficulty in approaching a flock, thus
settled, and sending the contents of both barrels
amongst them. The death of many of their
number scarcely disturbed them — they flew up
wards, and, in a few moments, again assembled on
the same spot. The screams of every class of
sea-bird, which followed the report of my gun,
conveyed the idea of our being amongst an inter
minable flock. As we passed down the rocks, fol
lowing the course of the river, new coveys met us
at every turn. It was hard work to load — my
powder was becoming exhausted — and I regretted
I had not a better supply, as one of the flat pools
of the stream exhibited a dark mass of ducks,
widgeon, and teal.
" Your honour's our friend," said my host.
" Certainly."
" It's pity your honour has no powder, and
another gun — a heavier gun would send better —
your honour will be secret."

156 THE SECRET.
" You may trust me, safely."
" I will fetch your honour a gun — an old one,
but a true one — and powder."
" Where have you these things ?"
" Not a man on these mountains but knows
where both are to be found. Your honour wiU
own the gun, if any inquiry. God knows when
we shaU want it." The confidential whisper in
which this was conveyed disclosed much of the
state of general content in which the Irish moun
taineers are held. It would be dangerous to break
the peace of such a people.

KELLORGLIN. 157

CHAPTER XI.

Return to Killarney — Kellorglin — Lake Carraght — Wales's
Inn — Fishery on the Carraght River — Lob-Trout — Fishing
in Lake Carraght — Disappointment — Seal-Shooting— Castle
maine Bay — Birthplace of Daniel O'Conneli — Arrival at
Cahirciveen.

Feom Kenmare I returned to Killarney; and,
having taken leave of the major, who promised
again to join me so soon as I should arrive at
Galway, I despatched Owen with the pony, and
foUowed the course of the town to Kellorglin.
This is a singularly interesting walk of twelve
miles, though the lower part ofthe river becomes
tame and flat as it approaches the sea. The late
rains had greatly swollen the river, which was now
clearing, and I was anxious not to lose the golden
moment. Trout was abundant; many of good
size, notwithstanding the continual netting of this

158 ABUNDANCE OF TROUT.
river ; and, as I crossed one stream, a tributary to
the Lowne, about six miles from KiUarney, I found
the fall, under the bridge, crowded with those
fresh run from the sea. A fly was useless — a good
worm, well scoured, would have been effectual at
this moment — and the best substitute for the
resistless bait I offered. I took upwards of forty
common trout and sea-trout, from a quarter to a
pound and a half, under this fall alone. I met
with many anglers — rude ones indeed — they were
fly-fishermen, and had met no success. The fish
they had taken were aU small; and, from obser
vation on all the rivers I have fished, I ever find
the smaller size most greedily rise at a fly, while
the heavy fish are generally to be found in falls,
where the fly could never attract. The bait is,
therefore, the only mode of fishing these fastnesses;
and, even then, it must be offered with some skill.
Much will depend on the weight attached to the
line, as trout invariably take the salmon-roe at the
bottom. If, therefore, the fall be deep and turbu
lent, I append a heavy bullet, three feet from the
hook; that the former, lodging on the ground, plays
the bait in the eddy with such effect as to attract
fish even from a hundred yards distance. There
is much in this plan. I now approached the sea ;
the river was still, and subject to the tide. I
therefore put up my tackle, and pushed on towards

KELLORGLIN. 159
the little town of KeUorglin. All the civilization
of Killarney had vanished ; I was now approaching
the wildest part of Kerry, where no intercourse
with England existed, and where the Irish lan
guage was in its native purity. Most, however,
of the peasantry understood something of English,
and had little difficulty in directing my route.
At Kellorglin will be found a very humble, but
not an uncomfortable inn; and, above all, I re
commend the angler to spend one evening here,
for a very essential purpose, that of procuring flies
of a gaudy feather, exactly suited to the fresh-run
salmon, among which he may anticipate abundant
sport. There is a very ingenious artist at Kellor
glin, the only fly-fisher of the place. I sent for
him ; and, supplying him with hooks and gut, he
made for me a dozen salmon-flies, not easily to be
surpassed in the delicacy of their construction, and
certainly not at all in the attraction they present.
He was well rewarded, by a glass of punch and a
shilling, for his evening's work.
The Lake Carraght, which is situated about six
miles from Kellorglin, is a splendid, though utterly
neglected lake ; and, in visiting it, the sportsman
must lay his account with the loss of all the usual
comforts. He should provide himself with neces
saries at Kellorglin ; and, among other prepa
rations, he must ask leave of the renter of the river

160 WALES'S INN.
to fish the stream up to the lake. This permission,
although granted by a person who pays a heavy
sum annually for the river-fishing, I believe to
Lord Headley, is never denied. On my application,
I was informed that the river was quite open to
me, and that the renter would have great pleasure
in meeting me on the banks, near the weir, in the
morning. The only house on the road towards Cahirciveen,
which presents any accommodation, is at Wales's,
the bailiff of Lord Headley, which is about seven
miles from Kellorglin, and very invitingly situ
ated between two rivers, each about half a mile
from the house. One is the Carraght river, the
other a mountain stream, of considerable volume ;
and there is this extraordinary peculiarity attached
to them — up the Carraght is found nothing but
salmon ; I believe there is scarcely an instance of
the white trout making up that river ; the other is
crowded with white trout, and not a salmon dis
turbs them. Both these rivers fall into the sea,
within a mile of each other, behind Wales's house;
yet, as by a marine arrangement, the fish never
invade each other's dominions.
Wales himself carries on a fishery of considerable
extent, at the mouth of the latter river, where, at
one draught of the net, it is not uncommon, at the
end of May, or the beginning of June, to take

WALES'S INN. 161
from six to seven hundred white trout, some of
from three to four pounds in weight. Nor does
this appear at all to decrease the supply, so entirely
are they unmolested in the river. On my arrival
at the little inn, I found that the host was an
Englishman, many years, however, resident in
Ireland, so many, indeed, that he appeared wholly
to have forgotten the relative value of things, and
to have adopted, to the fullest extent, the delusion
so general among Irish innkeepers, that all the
English are afflicted with Vembarras de richesses.
No doubt a very reasonable agreement might be
made with him, as at all other stations; but I,
having made none, the more strenuously advise all
who follow me to establish a clear understanding
of that nature. His house is well situated as a
station; and, should the weather be rainy (which
in these mountainous districts may generally be ex
pected) exhaustless sport would be found. Here,
having established my head-quarters, I sallied forth
to keep my appointment. I found the proprietor
at the weir, accompanied by my ingenious friend,
the fly maker, who had brought the whole of his
feathers, for the purpose of suiting the day.
From the weir to the sea, it should be known that
there is but one lodge for salmon; and, though
the distance is a mile, not one wiU be found at
any other spot below the weir. The lodge is a

162 YOUNG SALMON.
flat, about a hundred yards from the weir; and,
though I had fished carefully, from the road up
wards, without a rise, no sooner had my fly fallen
fairly on that spot, than a fish, of six or seven
pounds, rose to meet it. He broke off. It is very
difficult to hold the young salmon, especially in
streams. Their mouths are tender, and if the
hook should not take effect in the bony part of the
jaw, they break off at the first struggle. My new
friend and myself now began in earnest, and, out
of twenty which were hooked in the course of two
hours, on the same spot, we were successful in
landing only three. One of these I took to
Wales's, and, having invited him and the fly-
maker to join me, a substantially good dinner was
put before us, and to it was ample justice done.
It is a mistake to cook salmon quite fresh. The
flakes are hard — the oily matter which, by keeping,
insinuates itself into the flesh and renders it tender,
is curdy. Although fresh salmon is generally
sought, and as generally esteemed, a day's hanging
is a manifest improvement.
I now visited the river on the other side ; and,
changing my fly- tackle for the roe, invited my
company to view a new style of fishing. They
were perfectly incredulous till they saw my success,
which, indeed, was almost incredibly great. The
late heavy rains having brought the white trout

LOB-TROUT. 163
into the river in such abundance, that it was im
possible to find a spot, below the bridge, and to
wards the sea, which possessed not its silvery
tenant. In this river I met, to me, a new species
of the trout ; it is common, however, in Ireland,
and in some of the rivers in Scotland ; and appears
to be a bastard between the common and the sea,
or white trout. It is called a lob. It is found
only in brackish water, in such parts of rivers
which are frequented by the fish from the sea, as
are subject to the tide. On the retirement of the
tide, these fish are most ravenous, and may be
taken with almost any bait, but especially with
the salmon-roe. They are found of three and
sometimes four pounds, are exceedingly muscular
and violent, but by no means good for the table.
I was assured that these fish are so destructive
of the spawn of the sea-trout and salmon, that
a premium would be given by the proprietors
of rivers for their destruction. Certainly, their
eagerness for the roe was unprecedented, taking it
even from the surface, before it was well in the
water. They are less timid than other fish of their
species, and would afford sport even in the finest
weather, when neither the salmon nor white trout
could be moved.
This day deserved to have been marked with a

164 CARRAGHT LAKE.
white stone. It was a day of splendid amusement —
the success such as would have gratified a wholesale
fishmonger — but, alas ! the produce here was of
no value; after all my labour, and after the exhi
bition of my pride, in depositing eighteen fine
trout at the inn, mine host, with a coolness that
almost made him mine enemy, requested the plea
sure of my company at his salting-house ; where,
from one draught at the low water, at the mouth
of the same river, that very evening, I beheld a
heap of not less than two hundred fish, chiefly of
larger size than any I could boast. The chagrin
and mortification I experienced were heightened
by the smile of all parties, as they took their
leave, and bade me good sport.
The Carraght lake, however, was untried, and
I despatched Owen, on the pony, to endeavour to
procure a boat, so that it should be ready in the
morning, at a certain spot, nearest to the road, or
rather pathway, which led to it. A dreary path it
is, by the side of the rocky stream, which some
times faUs down heavy precipices, at others, spreads
over a vast space ; not a tree or shrub to vary the
monotony of the vast masses of black stone, which
seem to have directed its course. After an hour's
difficult riding, early the next morning we arrived
at Lake Carraght. There were traditions of trout,
of sixty, and even eighty pounds, taken from this

CARRAGHT LAKE. 165
water. I was fired with the accounts I every where
heard, and resolved to try my fortune for the
highest prizes alone. Having, therefore, put on
our trailing tackle, and young samlets for bait, we
set off, keeping, as Owen recommended, the deep
courses. Four times round the lake did we in
dustriously row, without an indication of an inha
bitant; and it was late ere, wearied and disap
pointed, we sought the hovel, where the pony had
been left, to return to our inn. We could not
condescend to attack the white trout in a spot
where every retiring tide gave hundreds to the
net. That evening Owen and myself held a council
of war. It had been disgraceful to have abandoned
so fine a lake. It was clear we had not adopted
the means of fishing it, and I was determined to
make a bolder attempt. I was aware that, in
many large lakes, the best trout are only to be
taken by a ground bait ; and this I determined to
try. I therefore directed Owen to take some
salmon-roe, load it heavily, and endeavour to secure
from the river some eels, which, it must be re
marked, throughout this part of Ireland are re
garded as noxious vermin, not only unfitted for
food, but even for sight, so horror-stricken do all
the Kerry people appear in their presence. Mean
while I arranged a stout cord, of one hundred and

166 FISHING IN EARNEST.
fifty yards long, with a hook of good size at every
second yard. This I wound round a deal board of
exactly the width of the hooks, so that they were
not entangled in the process. Owen was successful
in eel- catching, and brought a basket full, with
which, the next morning, we started.
On arrival at the lake, my first care was to
select two stones, of sufficient weight, for each end
of the line. Alternately on the hooks were put on
a small trout (which are easily caught by the
hand, under the stones, in the tributary rivulets)
and an eel, cut in two. The line was then sunk,
at length, with a large cork, as a buoy, in the
middle of the lake. Having done this, we com
menced our trailing with better tackle — I say
better, for I attributed our want of success, the
previous day, to the unskilful arrangement of the
bait, which was not properly swivelled. Now,
however, I had corrected that error, so that the
fish twirled in a most inviting manner ; and, being
resolved to employ our time like real sportsmen,
I directed Owen to row, while I attended the two
rods, one from each side the boat, and also threw
a line, with four flies of different sizes and colours.
This was fishing a lake in earnest; and, I be
lieve, never was success greater. The first fruits
were from the flies, and I landed a small salmon ;
next from the trailing line, both of which were run

DISAPPOINTMENT. 167
together; and, in the agitation of the moment,
had nearly proved fatal to myself and my com
panion, as he threw down the oars, forgetting where
he was, to seize the rod, which was quietly disem
barking itself at the summons of one of the lake
monsters. The anxiety of both, as the fish ran foul, can
hardly be described. I blamed Owen whenever
his game crossed my line, and he thought it was
just possible that I might keep mine clear of
his. After some bickerings, blamings, and, I fear,
intemperance on my part, Owen landed his fish.
It was a lake trout of twelve pounds, which we had
both determined to have been thirty — short, thick,
black, and ugly — with a mouth almost as large as
that of a pike. What my candidate for the honour
of the atmospheric region may have been, I cannot
tell ; he threw himself once out of the water, dis
engaged himself from the hook, and left nothing
but my mutilated bait.
This disappointment, however, did not check
our exultation at the safe arrival of Owen's fish.
We both burst into a fit of laughter at the ap
pearance of the ugly creature, while Owen as
sured himself and me that there were trout still to
be caught in that lake of seventy pounds, and that
wehad only received this as an instalment.
We now proceeded to take up the dead line;

168 THE KING TROUT.
and, flushed with our recent achievement, I will
not attempt to describe how anxiously we drew up
this buoy rope. On raising the stone towards the
boat, a struggling power, which I could hardly re
sist, indicated the presence of some of the lake
monsters. Yard after yard was hauled in — I
paused — Owen swore it was one of the celebrated
trout. I thought so till the line reached the surface
and betrayed a dark-coloured and ferocious-looking
eel, of seven pounds. The buts of our rods were
now in requisition; and, after a flagellation that
would have been ill sustained by any other creature,
he was landed ; next hook, still a struggle ; an eel
again — again and again. As I proceeded, how
ever, a dash was made that showed the presence of
a more vivacious creature. I held on the line in
the utmost anxiety — I brought it to the surface —
it was, indeed, one of the lake monsters, of which
we had been so laboriously in pursuit — but I had
no power to govern him — for a while darting ahead
— then towards the stern — now leaping from the
water, and falling with an appaUing splash — at
length, he made one dart under the boat — one of
the hooks caught — the line broke, and our hope
was annihilated. Freed from restraint, we saw
him once more dash from the surface, and then
disappear for ever.
Who shall paint our mortification. Owen's

THE KING TROUT. 169
countenance, always lengthy, was greatly elongated.
I stood in surprise for a moment, drew in the
remainder of the line in an affected resignation,
but spoke no word. I motioned Owen to row
towards the shore, quietly packed up my tackle,
and we proceeded on our road homeward. I
dared not trust myself to speak — all our ar
rangements were made in silence — nor was it till
we had half accomplished our journey to the inn,
that Owen ventured to hint that it was a large
fish. "What fish?"
" The trout your honour lost."
"Host?"
"No; that the line lost. By St. Patrick, he
was a rale one."
" It is impossible to say."
" Sixty, at least, your honour. I knew him by
the breadth of his tail ; his tail was broader than
both my hands."
" You think so."
" I saw him a dozen times."
" Owen, say no more about him ; he was a large
trout. If we told the story, we should hardly gain
credit, and neither of us any satisfaction from
reciting our ill-luck — let us forget it — but that
trout was the largest of the lake."
On arrival at our inn, we found our host busily
VOL. I. I

170 SEAL-SHOOTING.
employed in boiling down seals for their oil. This
led me to inquire, and I soon learned that they
abounded along the Castlemaine bay. I therefore
ordered the gig early, and made preparations for
an attack. The road from Wales's to Cahirciveen
is now excellent, and perhaps one of the most
picturesque in Ireland ; sometimes elevated on emi
nences, above the beautiful green bay, from which,
on a calm day, can be seen the fish scudding over
the white patches of sand. Not a hut interrupts
the wildness of this lovely region, which I passed
through on a singularly fine morning. Whenever
the shore, which it frequently does, approached
the road, I left Owen in charge of the gig, and
beat out my own track among the rocks. Although
I could frequently see the seals, mounted on little
jutting eminences, before I could creep towards
them, within the distance of two or three hundred
yards, they splashed into the sea. At length, when
the curve of the bay suddenly presented me no less
than ten or twelve, of aU sizes, I rushed towards
the sea to intercept them. They had the benefit
of both barrels among them ; but, failing to strike
the head of any, nothing but the rising blood
on the wave showed that my load had taken
effect. Although unsuccessful with the seals, I was not
so with the cormorants, puffins, and teal. The

CASTLEMAINE BAY. 171
abundance of these birds supplied continual sport,
although it is to be lamented that the useless birds
predominate greatly. The teal were shy and
few. We now passed the bridge, which leads over the
river, forming the little harbour of Cahirciveen.
Here I resumed the bait-tackle, and found tolerable
sport, among a small sized white trout, which were
now abundant in aU the rivers of this district. As
we approached Cahirciveen, the black and desolate
mountains of Iveragh broke through the clearing
atmosphere ; while the sun, now flashing on the
broad Atlantic, presented a scene of wild splendour.
I now deemed that I had, indeed, reached those
regions into which no civilization had yet pene
trated. Immense tracts of uncultivated bog, ab
ruptly broken by a sudden mountain, behind which
another of greater elevation rears its head, itself
again and again succeeded by masses, if pos
sible, stiU more black and awful in their combi
nations. Little as this road is traversed, considerable
sums have been expended on it ; and, assuredly, its
boundaries present sites for marine residences of
an extraordinary beauty. The view over the
Castlemaine bay, of the Atlantic, and, in the dis
tance, the fairy island of Valencia, possesses a rare
combination. 12

172 O'CONNELL'S BIRTHPLACE.
If I were to fix on a spot where I would hope te
pass the rest of life's fitful dream, in quiet retire
ment, it would be impossible to select one of more
accumulated advantages.
On the right, between the road and the arm of
the sea, which receives the Cahirciveen river, is
Cashen — now, alas ! a ruin — used only for the
occasional shelter of cattle. It is prettily situated,
and was once the residence of the chief proprietor
of much of the surrounding country. It was the
hospitable mansion of the father of that extra
ordinary man, who is now inextricably associated
with all the destinies of Ireland. It was the resi
dence of the father of O'Conneli.
I could not pass this spot without a closer exa
mination ; the now unglazed window of that room
in which the " best abused man in the world "
first drew breath was pointed out ; and I paused,
to carry with me a faithful reminiscence of so
interesting a spot. My sketch occupied some
time; and, on its completion, I walked towards
the ruin. I disturbed my fidus Achates; Owen
was on his knees, uttering a prayer for the welfare
and success of his country's indomitable friend. As
what he uttered was in Irish, I had some difficulty
in arriving at the substance of his orisons. " Your
honour will forgive an Irishman. Long life to
him who liberated Ireland !"

O'CONNELL. 173
" What benefit has the liberation bestowed on
Ireland, Owen ?"
" Is it your honour asks that question in earnest ?"
" In earnest."
" Sure it is not for the likes of me to tell your
honour what the O'Conneli has done for his country
— the world knows it. Faith, it's to him we owe
that your honour's parliament ever cared about us
at all. It's to him we owe that your honour visits
our country and inquires about us ; and it's to
him we owe that we are represented at all in the
master country, which conquered us, and kept us
under martial law for many a day. Oh, it's meself
that remembers the time when a candle shouldn't
be lighted, but a troop of soldiers would hunt in
upon us and abuse us. Oh, we were slaves then,
any way."
" But how has O'Conneli remedied all this ?"
" Long life to him, and he has remedied all he
can. We may have a light, if we please, now ; and
we may walk about, without being stopped by the
soldiers ; and it'll not be long before we get law
and justice, and catholic magistrates, that will be
lieve the truth from a catholic. Oh ! the devil fly
away with all protestant magistrates that find all
catholics guilty ! "
" And do you believe the protestant magistrates
so decide.?"

174 O'CONNELL.
" Faith, and your honour may say that. Sure
all the world knows it. If we had among us
a spalpeen who would swear any thing but the
truth, he had only to turn Orangeman and pro
testant; he couldn't swear too stoutly or too
much. O'Conneli has smashed the Orangemen,
and an honest man may now have law, and some
times justice."
That this was a feeling too generally dissemi
nated, whether justly or not, was evident; that
there had existed grounds for such impressions,
may be readily inferred. It must not be imagined
that the services of O'Conneli are not understood
by the Irish. Frequently have I been astonished
by observations from the poorest class, which have
betrayed more judgment than even the refined
London press has sometimes exhibited, in dis
cussing the groundwork of his popularity and
influence. The frequent announcements of the
decline of that influence, from some ill-explained
or party squabble, can create nothing but a
smile in the traveller, who has made himself
acquainted with the firm reliance placed in him.
The reproaches of mendicity, which seem to con
stitute the standing thesis of abuse, " pass by
him like the idle wind." He is no beggar; he
had, long before he received one farthing from his
countrymen, in the way of contribution, added to

ARRIVAL AT CAHIR. 175
the independence bequeathed him, a fortune, and a
fame that was better than fortune; an income,
that, with half the personal labour he now under
goes, would have ensured a more certain, and,
perhaps, not more contracted income than he now
receives from his countrymen. If he receives, like
a beggar, he has the redeeming quality of spending
like a prince. He is not rich, nor can ever be so ;
his hospitality and devotion to his country's interests
forbid it.
We now passed the handsome mansion of Charles
O'ConneU, (late member for Kerry, and son-in-law
of the O'ConneU) and a handsome erection, that
seemed to stand forth as an example of the use
to which the noble streams, which every where irri
gate this part of the country, might be applied.
It was a mill, built and carried on by a relation of
O'Connell's. A few minutes more brought us into
Cahirciveen. It is a pretty town, for Ireland ; and
the appearance of comfort which pervades it at
once evinced the power of resident proprietorship.
In 1815, the entire viUage consisted of fifteen
houses, and those of a mean order. Now will
be found two streets, some handsome shops and
buildings, a good inn, and vessels, of one hundred
tons, at .the quay, and between 1500 and 2000
inhabitants ; perhaps the most peaceful, increasing,
and prosperous spot that Ireland can boast. Such

^76 CAHIRCIVEEN.
is Cahirciveen ; in the wilds of Iveragh, without
the local advantages of direct roads to any large
market, but with the paramount benefit of a con
siderate and popular landlord.

CAHIRCIVEEN.

177

CAHIRCIVEEN.

CHAPTER XII.

Cahirciveen — Comfortable Inn — John O'Conneli — Portrait of
the Liberator— Mountain Hunting— A Sportsman's Breakfast
 The Mass — State of Crime in Kerry — Party Feuds — The
Lawlors and Cooleens — A Smasher — the River Inny — Water
ville Lake— Courtesy of Mr. Butler — Live Lamb for Dinner-
Produce of the Weirs— A Deathbed Scene.

From Killarney, 40 miles ; from Tralee, 36 miles ; from Dublin,
183 miles; from Waterville Lake, 6 mites; from the river Inny,
3| miles. The town of Cahirciveen is of very recent origin
—it bears all the marts of rapid improvement— 15

178 THE INN.
the houses recently erected, and of a handsome
structure. Its situation is singularly beautiful,
being sheltered by the island of Valencia, and
having a navigable river of two miles. It is pro
tected from the great northern storms by the
range of mountains composing the district Iveragh,
and affords a site, particularly adapted to embrace
the commerce (such as it is) of the whole southern
coast of Ireland . Here is a comfortable inn, kept by
no less a person than John O'Conneli, Esq., one of
the many cousins ofthe renowned member; although
I say kept by him, I must have it distinctly under
stood that he interferes not in that or any other por
tion of the business which is carried on under his
name. He is, at once, a wine and whiskey mer
chant, storehouse-keeper, and general dealer. At
his store may be found almost any matter of con
venience, and even of luxury. His house, which
he has himself erected at considerable expense,
furnishes rather the hospitable mansion of the
friend, than the venal accommodation of the inn
keeper. This is, by no means, an uncommon
combination of trades and character amongst some
of the Irish districts ; and, after having afforded
you aU the accommodation which you could rea
sonably expect or desire, you are left rather to form
your own estimate of the expence, than be made
subject to any charge; indeed, so unreasonably

THE PORTRAIT. 179
moderate were the expectations of the host, that it
became necessary voluntarily to add to the carte,
in order to constitute a fair remuneration ; nor
wiU the traveller find, in putting up at this, if
I may so term it, inn, any want of education or
inteUigence in his landlord; whom, however, he
must not scruple to meet on terms of equality,
which will not be long ripening into those of
friendship. Here the traveller wiU find what is
not common in Ireland — excellent beds, and a
snugly-furnished room. Over the mantel-piece,
the first object which struck my attention was a
large print of Daniel O'ConneU, Esq., framed, but
not glazed. Daniel appeared in his travelUng-cap,
for an indulgence in which the Times newspaper
did not forget to assail him with all the epithets of
puppyism ; there was, however, a somewhat outre
addition to his face, as it appeared over mine host's
fireplace, and indications of war, not, as it should
seem, very congenial with his interests, had been
UberaUy added ; I mean a pair of large mustachios,
obviously appended by the hand of an unskilful
artist; and, lest the characteristic of his country
should be wanting, an enormous pipe was stuck into
his mouth. Aware of the high veneration that is,
throughout these districts, accorded to the great
original, my curiosity was excited to discover how
this contemptuous mark of disrespect had arisen :

180 THE PORTRAIT.
it appeared that, a few days before my arrival,
some officers had been quartered in the peaceful
town of Cahirciveen, and, as a matter of necessity,
had taken up their residence at O'Connell's, there
being no similar accommodation at least within
twenty miles. After having partaken of the best
the house could afford, perhaps not having been
too chary of the exceUent whiskey, which was
always there to be found, these soi-disant gentle
men had amused themselves by offering, perhaps,
the only insult in their power, to what they
considered the democratic landlord; and, after
their retirement to bed, the indignation of their
otherwise hospitable host had been displayed by
turning them all into the street; in this, it ap
pears, he had met at first some resistance, but,
before so athletic and powerful a form, little in the
way of personal objection could be opposed, and
those who had wantonly offered this unprovoked
insult were glad to make the humblest apology
which meanness could suggest, before they were
readmitted. The insult, however, was not to be
wholly pardoned, even by apology, and the next
day freed the house of the aristocratic warriors.
Perhaps there is no onewho enjoys greater genejW
esteem among his friends than Mr. John O'ConneU,
and he may rank among his most intimate the
chief of his name. I was shown several dogs, and,

MOUNTAIN-HUNTING. 181
on the second day after my arrival, found my
exceUent host prepared to give me a day up the
mountains. Starting at four in the morning, in
about two hours we reached a summit of one of
the gigantic and almost trackless mountains of
Iveragh, and overhanging the broad expanse of
Lake WaterviUe, of which I shall hereafter speak.
The view at the opening of day was magnificent ; the
silence unbroken, but by the cries of the numerous
wild-fowl that hovered over the surface of the
water. The process of hunting in these precipitous
districts, where the hares abound, is thus conducted.
A small terrier is despatched under the charge of a
lad, accustomed to the dangerous crags which
afford shelter to the victim : the hunters and the
greyhounds remain stationary. tiU the cry of the
lad warns them to watch in aU directions ; as soon
as the hare appears, the dogs are loosened, and
the scramble then is among the sportsmen to
the highest crag to obtain the best point of sight.
So fatigued, indeed, would one unaccustomed to
this sport be", that I was compelled to intreat my
leader to desist, after three exceUent runs, killing
two hares ; but, alas ! we found we had four Irish
males to walk before we could gain even the
humblest roof.
This is the sport of Daniel O'Conneli, who, as
soon as released from the anxieties of political

182 MOUNTAIN-HUNTING.
turmoil, with the utmost gladness escapes to his
retreat at Derrynane (about six miles from Lake
WaterviUe). Day after day will he be first to
rouse the slumberers — his feUow huntsmen : it
will not be uninteresting to give an account of the
last day's sport of this kind, which he enjoyed in
the year 1838.
At four, he was found at the window of John
O'ConneU, rough in his dress, and wholly Irish in
his manner and brogue. " Hurrah, boy ; the day
wiU be over, any way, before you're up." John,
recognizing his cousin's voice, was in a few minutes
by his side, accompanied by three pair of grey
hounds, in which Daniel took the utmost pride ;
off to the mountains trudged the Liberator, beating,
in his strides, even his brawny and athletic com
panion; they stepped over the ledges of rocks,
which overhang immense ravines, with the light
ness of a boy, and, by his shouting and hilarity,
manifested a lightness of heart which would hardly
be reconcilable with one whose mind must have
been charged with so many heavy considerations.
Equal even to the fatigues which in his boyhood
these mountains had so abundantly created, and
entering into the sport with every demonstration of
delight, it was not tiU long after his companion had
surrendered that he proposed adjourning for re
freshment. Having accomplished the journey to

A SPORTSMAN'S BREAKFAST. 183
the house of Mr. B  , who resides at the head
of Waterville lake, the two sportsmen sat down to
breakfast. I shaU be minute in describing the
statesman's. First, a large bowl of new milk,
which instantly disappeared ; then a liberal allow
ance of cold salmon, soaked in vinegar — a very
common dish — of this he ate very heartily ; after
which he finished a bottle of port wine, took leave
of his entertainers, and set off to walk six miles
to his home.
I am not aware that any commixture Could be
more iniquitous, nor that any would have agreed
better with the stomach of the Liberator.
Dura ilia Messorum !
How much of all that has been achieved in
battle, in the senate, at the bar, has been owing to
a strong digestion. — How many thousands have
sunk under the bare difficulty of facing, without
trembling, the apprehended evil. — How often the
weakness of the nervous energies alone depresses
powers capable of the highest objects ! It is not
unreasonable to refer the phlegmatic contempt of
reproach, the indomitable perseverance through
every difficulty, the moderation under success, and
the calm determination under adversity, so mani
festly the distinguishing characteristics of Daniel
O'ConneU, to a strength of digestion, seldom the
concomitant of the great mental acquirements
which are conceded to him by aU parties.

184 THE MASS.
On Sunday I attended, first, the estabUshed
church, which is a neat little edifice ; a rectory of
about £600 or £700 a-year, but, as usual, the
rector is an absentee — residing, I believe, in France,
while the duties were performed by a curate. Our
congregation consisted of about seven persons,
among whom were the official protestants, I mean
the policemen. Yet, the service was performed in
an exemplary manner ; and I had the pleasure of
receiving from the clergyman an early visit. The
mass, however, presented a congregation of up
wards of two thousand persons, collected from aU
parts ofthe mountains; hundreds walking shoeless
many miles to attend the solemnity. I afterwards
became acquainted with the priest, and found in
him a mild and amiable man, with none of the
pugnacious and anathematizing spirit which is so
generally represented as the characteristic of the
catholic clergy. On the contrary, he had obtained
the veneration and love of his numerous and scat
tered communicants, by the same means that have
been so successful elsewhere — by the spotlessness
of his private character, and his devotion to the
reUgious consolation of the poorest as weU as
richest of his flock. It would be difficult to find
him absent at the time of distress ; he knew aU his
communicants, and they knew him. He did not,
however, visit them in a carriage, or refuse a

STATE OF CRIME. .185
midnight attendance on the most destitute of his
mountain dependants.
Nothing, up to this part of my journey, could be
more subordinate, obliging, and kind, than the
Conduct of the peasantry ; and I looked in vain for
£ny of those exhibitions of violence which fiU our
Newspapers. In answer to all the inquiries I made,
I found no one who could recount any atrocities
Jv-hich could have justified Mr. Inglis, in his book
on Ireland, in the expression of his wonder at the
gross amount of a Kerry sessions. The numbers,
as he places them, indeed look large, if the offences
be not nicely discriminated : they were, in his time,
for one quarter, 199 ! and " of these," as he says,
" 174 cases implying the undue exercise of physical
force." Yet, on examination of his own account,
there were but ten for larceny, all the other cases
being riotous assembly, Hibernice-, a row, and the
cracking of divers heads at a "pattern." Ten only,
in his own Ust, are set forth as even charged with
crime ; but " these eases implied the undue exer
cise," &c. : that is a very awful announcement,
and well calculated to promote the views of a
rabidly tory newspaper, and prevent the benefits
arising from English visiters who would, if the
beauty of this and most of the stations in Kerry
were well known, and the truth relating to them
ascertained, crowd to Ireland instead of the
Continent.

186 PARTY-FEUDS.
The Irish peasantry are very much addicted to
the " undue exercise of physical force" among each
other. At a "pattern" (patron saint's day), which is
fair, where vast numbers assemble for all purposes
— hiring and being hired — of meeting old friends
and separated relatives — of purchasing or selling —
the whiskey does its mischief. Stick-combats are
the consequence ; and a broken head or two are
healed by shaking hands with the head-breaker,
and being better friends than ever. There is, in
deed, a kind of feud which must be spoken of more
seriously; I mean the assembly of clans for the
purpose of trying their strength against each other ;
although much of this has been, by the exhortation
of the priesthood, abolished, yet a feeling of rivalry
and jealousy has been handed down to the clans,
which it seems almost impossible to subdue. The
Rathkenny riots did much to impress the peasantry
with the dreadful consequences of these feuds, and
I have heard of no subsequent outbreak. That,
indeed, was a terrible affair. The Lawlors and
the Cooleens were parties, between whom had been
nurtured a feud of centuries standing. either
party knew the offence of the other, but a boast
that a Lawlor was a better man than a Cooleen was
sufficient to awaken implacable ire. In 1834, the
two parties met at Rathkenny ; a regularly ordered
combat ensued, tiU, at length, the Lawlors gave

THE LAWLORS AND COOLEENS. 187
way, and made towards the river in retreat, to
which they were pursued by the conquerors. To
avoid the stones and blows of the pursuers, too
many crushed 'into the boats, which were overset,
and forty persons, chiefly young men, were drowned.
It is but just to the Cooleens to say, that, at the
occurrence of this distressing misfortune, none
could be more active than themselves in giving
assistance to the drowning rivals, and but for their
assistance many more must have perished.
Although this catastrophe gave occasion for
sweeping condemnation of the Irish, when calmly
considered, it will be, by the unprejudiced, regarded
rather as a misfortune than a crime. The con
querors had never contemplated the effect which
ensued; the circumstance had occurred in the
hereditary rivalry, which excited an annual trial of
strength and skill. But even these exhibitions
have given way to the better instruction the people
have received.
While, however, I speak generally in favour of
the peaceable and subordinate dispositions of the
Kerry peasantry, I cannot omit to notice one crime
that did come under my own observation. What
ever atrocity is contained in it will be well ex
tracted, and put forth by some noble marquis or
tory hireling.
An old man, whose bald head was streaming

188 A SMASHER.
with blood, was introduced to the magistrate. In
the custody of the constable was, also, a strong,
good-humoured looking fellow, who seemed anxious
to tell his tale. The injured party, however, was
directed to state his case, which he did, by assuring
the magistrate that he was peaceably going to his
home, at Currane, and had met the prisoner. He
had given the time qf day to him, and walked on ;
the sun being very hot, he had taken off his hat
for coolness, when, to his surprise, without the least
warning, and without having offered the least
provocation, he received a blow on his head from
a stick, which felled him to the ground. The
magistrate indignantly demanded what excuse the
prisoner could have for so unprovoked an assault
upon an old man. The prisoner considered for
some time ; at length, he burst out into the foUow
ing defence : —
" It's true, your honour, as the ould man says ;
he passed me on the road, and, just at that mo
ment, took off his hat, and showed the most beau
tiful shining head ; the sun lit upon it, as it bobbed
up and down in the ould man's gait. By the
powers, all the blood came to my fingers at such a
head; oh ! what an elegant head intirely for a crack,
sis I ; and, before I could consider, your honour, I
had fetched him the smasher, and sure your
honour's self could hardly have done less, may be,

THE INNY. 189
if your honour had been unluckily thrown into so
powerful a timptation."
It is needless to say that the powerful temptatibn
did not operate as a justification, and the smasher
of impulse was consigned to a fortnight's durance.
The river Inny, which lies between Cahir and
Waterville Lake, will be found worth exploring by
the angler. In August, I am told, it is literally
crowded with sea- trout; and, indeed, I found
abundant sport at an earlier period. It is a draw
back, however, that not even the humblest inn can
be found in its neighbourhood, and must either be
visited from Waterville or Cahir, at both which
stations the sport is superior. The Inny, therefore,
is Uttle known ; and I question if one angler in a
year visits it. It may be said to be a maiden river ;
and, though dreary, the walk along the banks of
the lower part, and the rocky crags of the moun
tainous passes, through which it runs, will be
found replete with all the wild scenery which here
abounds. Three miles farther on, and the summit of a hill
at once discloses the broad expanse — the deep,
sullen, and dark waters of Waterville Lake. From
this summit its whole extent may be viewed, which
stretches five miles in length, and is divided only
by a small river, if it can be so called, of five or six
hundred yards long, from the bay of Ballinskelligs,

190 WATERVILLE LAKE.
which adds its cerulean beauties to the gorgeous
beauties ofthe scene. At first, the stranger is im
pressed with an idea that the lake itself is nothing
more than an arm of the sea; the fall is ten or
twelve feet only from it to the bay, but sufficient
to protect it from the influence of the tide, and
affording, for the whole tribe of the genus salmo,
an easy transition from the salt to the fresh water.
A small cluster of cottages, which forms the newly-
arisen village of Waterville, and situated at the
very edge of the fall, covers from the view the
mansion of Mr. Butler, whose property the short
but productive river is, and whose house is almost
attached to the profitable fishery.
Having secured my lodging, which consisted of
a single room, the only one vacant in the village,
and which was, indeed, the lodging of the priest of
this district, who was then absent on one of his
rural peregrinations, I despatched a note to Mr.
Butler, requesting permission to fish the river. To
this I received a courteous and immediate reply,
containing fuU leave to do so ; and having sent
also for Segueson, the only fisherman of the place,
Mr. Butler's boat was put at my disposal for the
lake. The next thing was a selection of flies. If
supplied with the materials, I found Segueson an
excellent hand ; he knew the exact colours above
and below the fall ; and having learned the par-

THE COMMISSARIAT. 191
ticulars that, at the head of the lake, there were
two rivers, both celebrated for trout, that the lake
itself was redundant in sea-trout and the heavy
brown lakers, as they are called, I proceeded to
arrange my swivels, and prepare for the morrow's
attack. My commissariat was not so easily
arranged; there was nothing to be bought; the
nearest market for bread was Cahirciveen — as for
all the other necessary luxuries. I despatched,
therefore, the running messenger, who should not
be forgotten ; he is the WaterviUe postman, and,
without a shoe, has, I believe, for years, ran twenty
miles a day without an intermission. My inquiries
for the butcher's supply, for I had really lived on
trout and salmon till I was tired, was met by a
stare of surprise. I learned, however, that, by
giving due notice, lamb might be had from the
mountains. At this prospect I cheered, and
requested the requisite notice might be given. On
the following morning, my ancilla announced its
arrival, and I was luxuriating by anticipation on
the splendid dinner it was to afford.
" Would your honour wish to see the man ?"
" By all means ; let him bring in the lamb also."
After waiting a few minutes, open flew the door,
and in bounced a lovely little creature, which, for
a moment, stared me in the face, and then ran to
Tiide under the table.

192 LIVE LAMB.
" Why, the lamb is alive !"
" I drove him and carried him seven miles down
the mountain for your honour, as word was sent up
last night."
" Why, what am I to do with a whole lamb ? —
What is the price ?" It was a very fine one.
" Why, it's dear any way, your honour — three
shillings is the price, but, as I have had a good
step to bring him, perhaps your honour would not
be backward in giving three-and-sixpence."
Three-and-sixpence were paid, to the deUght
ofthe mountaineer, who had doubtless exceeded the
market-price by a shilling ; and the little trembler
was soothed into confidence — not converted into a
meal. He became my attached companion during
my stay, sharing every meal with an acquired air
of right, for, if he were not first attended to, he
adopted the offensive style — butted at my legs,
and pulled off the scanty table-cloth. On my de
parture from the country, I made a present of him
to a gentleman, who assured me that he would
never part with him, and that he should have full
liberty in his fields for life. I heard afterwards
that he had fulfiUed his promise, in giving the little
fellow ample Uberty, but that the object of his
kindness had soon lost aU his engaging and impru
dent tricks, and had become quite sheepish.
I walked down to the weirs, the produce of

THE WEIRS. 193
which amounts, as I am informed, to £700 or £800
per annum. In four traps it is not uncommon to
take from 500 to 600 fish, nightly, in the full
salmon season ; and, perhaps, a more astonishing
sight could not be presented than the shoals of
these creatures, one over the other, constituting, in
their confined cells, almost a solid mass ; the boiUng
stream, which rushes through the bars of their
prison-house, keeps them not only alive, but per
fectly well, tiU the arrival of the higglers, who take
them alive up the mountains, and to the towns,
many miles distant. None, I believe, reach England.
The land-carriage is too great, and they have no
means here of pickUng or preserving, otherwise than
by common salt. But, when the length ofthe river,
from the weirs to the sea, is considered — not greater
than 400 yards — that immense sport will be
found for the angler, in that short run, will easily
be believed.
It had rained the whole day ; and, towards the
evening, I mounted the salmon- roe, determined to
try its effect on fish just up from the sea. The
water was a little discoloured, and highly favourable
to my experiment. A more glutting evening I
never spent. The moment the bait was in the
water, it was seized ; and I believe that I should
have had no difficulty, had my industry kept pace
with my success, in loading a donkey with white
VOL. I. K

194 AN ARRIVAL.
trout of all sizes. There is no association among
them. I was obliged to change my situation for
salmon, four of which I caught on the same evening.
I will not attempt to depict the surprise of Segueson,
at whom Owen directed continual gibes, as the fish
made their appearance on shore ; the former had
never seen or ever heard of the salmon-roe, nor
could divine what charmed compost it was. He
protested that, on such an evening, the most skilful
fly- angler would not have secured a fish. But
here, also, the same disappointment arose ; the fish
were of no value, as the poorest cottagers, whose
food is the potato, and generally that alone, care
little for fish, which abounds under their very
doors. On returning to my lodging, my attention was
arrested by an arrival, indeed extraordinary in
these parts ; it was absolutely a post- chaise, and
contained two gentlemen, who had fully expected
to have found some magnificent hotel. As it was,
there was neither food nor stable for horses, nor
accommodation for themselves, beyond that which
a cabin and two beds, or a wet mud-floor, could
supply. Like true anglers, however, they had not
been deterred from the prosecution of their sport
by such small hindrances; wisely judging that,
where the fish are, the fishermen commonly are not.
As soon as I thought the arrangements were com-

THE DEATHBED. 195
plete, I assumed the superior, because the first
arrived tenant, and invited the strangers to partake
of the preparations made in my own little camp,
perfectly convinced that they must otherwise have
remained destitute till the morning : they very
gladly accepted my invitation. They were Irish
gentlemen ; one, I believe, an eminent surgeon of
Cork ; a fact which he had in confidence communi
cated to me, as it was by no means his wish that
he should be professionally called on. This,
however, did happen ; for, as my attendant, a little
fat Irish girl, brought in the matarials, she was in
tears. On inquiry, I found that " the spirit of
Patrick Macguire was passing," and that all the
village had assembled to view the solemn sight.
There was no getting at the nature of his illness,
or the object of the assembling of so many persons.
I looked at my companion and solicited his inquiry.
" I was afraid of this," said he, " but I must go."
Sending, therefore, for his little package, in which
he always kept a few common drugs, we sallied
forth to the cabin.
What a scene was there ! In a mud hut, with a
small hole, covered with paper, for a window, had
congregated, at least, fifty persons of all ages,
relatives and friends. The widow, by anticipation,
was, with her face covered with her apron, rocking
herself on a chair by the fire ; the crippled grandam
K2

196 THE DEATHBED.
occupied the other side, seated on an inverted tub ;
while knots of busy talkers crowded round the straw
couch of the dying man. No one offered to assist
him ; his spirit was passing, and it was all hopeless
to interfere.
The first act of my friend was to clear the hut ;
this was not done without my assistance. I was
obliged to explain that the gentleman was a medical
man, whom I had brought ; that air was the first
requisite for the sick man. Incredulity seemed to
mark the countenances of all, as they sullenly
left the cabin. We then broke the windows open,
and proceeded to examine the man, whose spirit
was passing. It was now ascertained by my friend
that he was in the last stage of a kind of cholera ;
no remedies had been applied, nor sustenance, but
of the usual kind, offered. The poor fellow was
dying of exhaustion, not of disease. No sooner
had a little brandy, and a few drops of laudanum
been given him, than he rallied . greatly. Boiled
milk, in very small quantities, were ordered to be
given hourly, and my humane companion promised
to see him again that night. On our return with
that object, we found the hut crowded as before,
at which both I and the surgeon expressed serious
anger ; hut we failed in making the people under
stand that there was any possible chance of exist
ence for one whose spirit was passing.

THE SURGEON. 197
Their astonishment and gratitude, however, at
discovering that poor Patrick Macguire was not
only living the following day, but rapidly recovering,
were fatal to my friend's amusement. The fame
of this salvation of a dying man travelled with
wonderful swiftness through the mountains, and,
in the evening of that day, the door of his cabin was
beset with the halt, infirm, and diseased. It was
useless to protest against such an attack ; each case
was introduced by such humility and earnestness
that resistance was in vain, and the mud cot became
the dispensary of a district of seven miles, during
the remainder ofthe visit of the professional angler.
He assured me that he had never, from any pre
vious experience, thought it possible that such
dreadful effects could follow from want of the due
application of the simplest remedies, as numerous
instances disclosed in this district. The disease
most prevalent, and, to the sufferers, generally
fatal, was rheumatism ; the patient required only
to be removed from the wet mud floors, well
clothed, kept warm and dry, to be restored to the
use of those limbs which had wasted to nothing
from want of action; paralysis, arising from the
watery diet on which they fed ; young cripples,
whose distorted limbs had never been set after a
fracture, all combined to show how necessary the
extension of the provision the government has

198 A RETREAT.
made, with regard to medical attendance on the
poor, has become.
If I were a surgeon or physician, and contem
plated retirement from the remunerative exertion
of my profession, and were desirous of spending
my latter days as usefully as possible to my fellow-
creatures, and as happily to myself, I would not
stick up a cockney dwelUng in the neighbourhood
of some large town ; I would drop on the romantic
mountains of Iveragh, where the charitable exercise
of my art would unite with the beauties of Nature
to create a happiness, which none but those who
can estimate life's value, by the power it gives of
assisting our fellow-creatures, can enjoy.

WATERVILLE LAKE.

199

WATERVILLE LAKE.

CHAPTER XIII.
Enormous Eagle — Fishing in Waterville Lake — Morning-Break
fast — Island Burial-Ground — Funeral — A New Friend— rThe
White Strand — Anecdote of the Duke of Wellington — Round
Tower — Mullet-fishing.
After the heavy rains of the preceding day,
what angler but would arise to greet the morning
sun, gorgeous as he appears, shedding his brilliant
flashes on the regenerated pastures, which present
a green carpet over aU the scene, save only where
huge and particoloured masses arise in indepen
dent grandeur, the impervious abodes of the wild
sea -fowl, the eagle, and the fox.

200 DEATH OF THE ROCK-KING.
Owen was at my window by four. The lines
were all ready, having been weU baited with small
trout, which he had taken by hand in the streams.
The swivels were on; Segueson had made the
flies ; our day's provisions were prepared, and, with
as much delight as the anticipation of a glorious
day could inspire, we rowed up the flat river which
leads into the lake. The boundary is marked by
some scattered rocks, which divide the stream
from a long plain of bog ; just as we arrived at
this spot, a caution was given by Segueson ; he
seized the gun ; our oars had scarcely ceased a mo
ment, when a wild scream, and the discharge of
both barrels, startled me. " Hurrah ! " exclaimed
Segueson ; " down at last. St. Patrick, and he's
an ould offender ; row on, row on, take care of your
legs." In a moment we were on shore, and I was
in the midst of a danger I had little apprehended.
A wounded eagle, of the largest size, lay screaming
on the ground ; there was life enough left to render
him dangerous, as he crawled, or rather jumped
towards us, flapping his enormous wings, and with
revenge and mischief in the furious expression of
his eye. The savage nature of this animal was never
so powerfully exemplified. One snap with the beak
had been enough to sever an arm from one's body;
by stones, the butt-end ofthe gun, and oars, he was
at length despatched.

THE ISLAND. 201
He had been long and unfavourably known on
this lake. Thousands of chicken, fowls, and salmon,
had been buoyed in the air to serve his annual
family, whose habitation no one dared approach.
Segueson declared that there was a tradition of his
having carried off children, and that his age was
undoubtedly above a hundred years. However
that might have been, it certainly was the largest
of the largest kind of eagle, and, when erect, must
have carried his head between three and four feet
from the ground. I regretted that no one under
stood the art of stuffing ; and, after several trials
myself, I was satisfied to retain his feet in token
of the victory ; which I afterwards had, mounted
in silver, converted into the handles of bell-ropes.
The body of the noble marauder was consigned to
the dogs of Mr. Butler. I fear they found him
tough. We now advanced to the middle of the
lake, and, under Segueson's direction, cast our
baited long line, put out the swivels, and proceeded
to throw our flies ; Owen being pilot, and gently
rowing the boat, so as to give fuU play to the
swivels. The flies were quickly successful, at every cast
small white trout or those of the lake were landed —
but no indication of any ofthe lake monsters. Twice
had we made the likely course arid no 'run. The
sun had now become powerful, and a proposition
K5

202 EARLY BREAKFAST.
was made that we should visit the beautiful island,
which is one of the most remarkable ornaments of
the lake. Within twenty yards of the landing-
spot, both swivels were simultaneously run. I
seized one rod, Owen the other ; the length of line
which was out gave us little power; the two fish
darted across each other, and were in great danger
of entangling and breaking the Unes. Mine, at
twenty yards distance, gave a leap, at least three
yards from the surface ; and, before I could provide
against the shock of his fall, he had thrown his
whole weight into the water, and departed with
swivels, hooks, and a great portion of my line. I
now assisted Owen, who had a less mercurial sub
ject to deal with, and, after some time, landed a
fine lake trout of eleven pounds. This formed a
valuable addition to our contemplated meal; he
was crimped and hung by the tail, while Segueson
made the fire by the side of the ruined chapel,
whose roofless walls contained myriads of human
skulls. Here I will describe a morning repast. First, a
large iron pot, slung by three sticks over a good
clear turf-fire; well washed, but not skinned
potatoes ; a fowl, split and well seasoned, and a
crimped trout of eleven pounds — hot, even unto
burning ; -plenty of lake water, clear as crystal ;
and finally, an infusion of the best Cork whiskey.

ANCIENT BURIAL-GROUND.

203

All this, on a lovely island in the middle ofthe lake,
a delicious warmth, a glowing sun, and appetite from
exercise and free ocean air, which gently ripples the
surface of the waters, who shall demand " what
are the pleasures ofthe sportsman ?"

ANCIENT BURIAL-GROUND ON WATERVILLE LAKE.
Amidst the enjoyment of all this, I was aroused
by a long and lugubrious cry, which seemed to
issue from the opposite mountains to be reverbe
rated by those of the lake's boundaries. Segueson
crossed himself, took off his hat, said a few words in
Irish, and replaced it ; Owen did the same, and
there was a silent mystery in the act which excited
my curiosity. I found that this island was the
burial-ground of the district for many miles round;
that it had been so time immemorial; but that

204 FUNERAL.
this peculiarity in the time of burial was preserved.
No corpse was ever brought to the spot, excepting
while the sun shone; and it was not uncommon
for the relatives of the deceased to delay the last
offices for weeks, that the custom might be com
plied with. I am not disposed to complain of the
Irish howl; there is a demonstration in it which
is well suited with the liveliness of feeling, which
is a strong characteristic of the Irish ; the cold
formula of an English funeral would iU suit them.
The body was now embarked, and two other
boats were filled with followers, who all continued
the loud lamentation, which produced an awful
effect in these wild regions. On arrival at the
island, Segueson and Owen immediately covered
their faces and fell on their knees. I also reve
rently removed my hat as the body was borne along ;
the widow, with dishevelled hair, and beating her
bosom with her hands, then throwing herself on
the coffin, till, at almost every step, exhausted by
the violence of her cries, and the apparent madness
of her grief, she fell to the ground — was raised by
the others around her, again to join in the lament,
again to inflict blows on her bared ahd bursting
bosom. The body was, in the deepest silence, committed
to the grave ; the young priest gave a short exhor
tation, and the people returned to the boat, sup-

FUNERAL. 205
porting the now fainting widow. It was a scene
that made a strong impression on me. The
numerous assemblage which had attended the
remains of the departed, showed a general feeling
of attachment towards each other, for which in vain
we look in more civilized countries ; the kindness
and sympathy which were by all shown towards the
hapless widow, showed also that in her distress she
would not be without friends to assist and protect
her. I was not wrong in this view. The young priest,
whose unassuming yet pleasing manner much in
terested me, assured me that a subscription would
be entered into by all the attendants on the funeral
and others, to provide some mode of life for her ;
and that, though the deceased was a cotter only, by
the help of her children she would be enabled to
continue to meet her rent. That though there
were no poor-laws to relieve the destitute, the pri
vate charities among the middle order were very
extensive ; in these, however, the greater proprietors
of the soil seldom join.
After the departure of the mourners, I took a
survey of this island . It had once been undoubtedly
of greater extent ; and, perhaps, the residence of
some order of monks. The continual dashing of
the waves of the lake against the side jutting
towards the west, had materially diminished its

206 RIVERS.
size, and had probably rendered residence on it
dangerous. Nothing remained of the buildings
which must have at one time been extensive, but
the tower and roofless walls of the chapel. It con
tained, as I have said, myriads of human skulls,
heaped together against the walls ; the numbers,
indeed, were such, that it would have been im
possible that they should have been accumulated
from the ordinary burials which have, during the
last half century, taken place on it ; and it is rea
sonable to believe that this country, now wild and
desolate as it is, was once much more numerously
inhabited. On leaving the island, we made for the head of
the lake, and, in our progress, secured two very
fine lake trout, of six and seven pounds each.
The waters are supplied by two rivers, of distinct
character ; the one being of a mountainous, rapid,
and rocky description ; the other, a dull, sluggish
stream, issuing from a long vaUey of bogs. Both
are excellent for angling ; the former for white trout
and salmon, the latter for the brown or lake trout,
which may, by the salmon-roe, be taken in almost
any numbers.
At the head of the lake stands a farm-house ;
one of the most delightful spots, for sport of every
kind, that can be imagined. It is a good house,
and was originally erected, I do not doubt, for a

A NEW FRIEND. 207
better purpose than it is now put to. But here
accommodation might be had ; it would depend on
the good spirits of the sportsman to make it a
happy retirement.
On our return to WaterviUe, the whole village
had assembled to see the eagle; countless stories
were related of his depredations, and the cottagers
spoke of his destruction, as though some midnight
robber had been removed from among them.
Indeed, none of them dared at any time to let
their fowls out of their dwellings until they had
themselves arisen; and, generally, I found that
the reason of their keeping them in their own
houses was the dread of the eagles and the foxes,
whose impudence was irrepressible, coming almost
to the very doors to pounce on their prey.
My friend, the surgeon, and his companion, had
been on the river all day. The sun had been too
bright for any great success, but they had, never
theless, landed three salmon. They joined in my
little dinner ; so that, even in the wilds of Iveragh,
I did not find myself without a companion. In
the evening I tried the roe, from the bridge, with
considerable success ; but the salmon I there took
were in bad season, having come down from the
river after spawning. The flesh of one was quite
white, and I regretted I had killed him.
As I stood on the bridge, I was accosted by a

208 DERRYNANE.
gentleinan, in the English accent, to which my ear
had been so little of late accustomed, that I almost
fancied he must have been an old friend — he was
not so — but a new one. He had the undress of
an officer ; and the gold band, round his blue cap,
denoted that he belonged to the navy. He invited
me to visit him, at White Strand ; it was, he said,
a lonely place enough ; he was the commander of
the coast-guard station there ; but, as I should
pass Derrynane, on my way, he soUcited me to
give him notice of my arrival, the day before, that
he might have the deep sea-lines ready. I was
much pleased with his hospitable invite, and de
termined to accept his offer.
In my way to fulfil this engagement, I passed
Derrynane. So much has been said of the resi
dence of the great proprietor, that I am disposed
to dismiss it with a word. It is a straggling
building, on the verge of the sea ; its furniture is
plain, but there is a hearty welcome to every
sojourner. During his autumnal residence at the
abbey, it is almost an open house; and not
unfrequently are congregated within its walls
much of the talent and worth that Ireland can
boast. On my arrival at White Strand, I found the
lieutenant (for such he was) ready to receive me.
I was welcomed by a very lady-Uke person, his

WHITE STRAND. 209
wife, who had obviously made considerable, prepa
rations for my reception. After a very good
mountain dinner, my host and myself put to sea,
where we had nothing to do but to take up the long
sea-lines, which his men had previously laid down,
in about fifteen fathoms. The hawl was tremen
dous; the whole of these shores, which are flat
and sandy, peculiarly adapted for the best sea fish,
are, I beheve, untroubled by a single fisherman.
One would suppose, from the ease and quickness
with which we took small cod, whiting, haddock,
gurnet, and occasionally turbot, that the whole
bottom was covered with them. Sea-fowl, of all
descriptions, abounded; and, as the lieutenant
furnished me with a gun, we made a tolerable
selection of teal and ducks for the next day's
dinner. My host was a gentleman of refined manners,
of the middle age, and had seen much active
service. But he had eight children, now requiring
education. This necessity weighed heavily on his
spirits, as the small income which the government
added to his half-pay, for the performance of the
heavy duties of the coast-guard, would not allow
him to send his sons to any distant school, and
there was no human being of inteUigence, above
that of a cotter, within many miles. He had been
stationed at the White Strand for nine years, cut

210 PUBLIC VIRTUE.
off from all society, and all intercourse with per
sons of his own grade. He had ventured, on the
resumption of power by the Duke of WeUington,
to address a prayer to his grace, not for any
advancement of rank, but for a change of situation,
where he might obtain education for his rising
family. In preferring this very humble petition,
he had referred to a circumstance which might pos
sibly have recalled him to his grace's remembrance.
He had been the young officer who had safely
landed his grace's horses and baggage, on his first
arrival in Spain, to take the command ; on which
occasion, he had been so fortunate as to have been
honoured by Sir Arthur Wellesley's commen
dation. He had received an answer, written by the
duke's own hand — and it was almost with tears
that he showed me the document — it was a cold
and unfeeling refusal to interfere for the removal
of the applicant ; and that refusal was accompanied
by the stoical and profoundly virtuous declaration,
that he (the duke) should never consider any per
sonal service to himself as a proper ground for
bestowing any public office, or of interfering in the
arrangement of public duties. Nothing can be
more self-denying and magnanimous than such a
resolution, in the first Lord of the Treasury,
though something a little more polished might

ROUND TOWER.

211

have been added to the style, in refusing the
reasonable request of a meritorious officer. We
are bound, however, to believe that his grace's
declaration is founded in perfect truth ; and that it
was to services done to the state, and the state
alone, that had gained so handsome a pension for
Mrs. Arbuthnot. <

ROUND TOWER, WHITE STRAND.
While I was in this neighbourhood, I visited one
of the Round Towers. The only opinion I can
give, from a careful examination of the remains,
is, that they were certainly not of a warlike cha
racter. It is remarkable that there are no remains
of any entrance. The thickness of the walls,
without any windows, would indicate the purpose
of burial ; which, perhaps, was the original object.

212 MULLET-FISHING.
The only inlet to the building was an opening
of modern and rude construction, obviously not
forming any relation to the original design.
That these Round Towers of Ireland may have
been an improved form of the Pyramid, is, perhaps,
more easily shown than the wild theories of the
writers on this subject can be established.
On our return from the White Strand to Water-
viUe, a new kind of sport had presented itself.
The mullet, which at this season of the year con
gregate around the entrance of the river, had
formed a black mass at the embouchement of the
lake. It was impossible to use a net, the shore
being covered with rocks. Neither bait nor fly had
the least attraction for them ; and, although they
might he seen in the sun as shoals of myriads, and
as closely packed together as was consistent with
their power of motion, no means had yet been
devised of securing this exceUent fish. Their
annual visits, therefore, were always paid with im
punity. I was angry at this, and spent some hours
in endeavouring to aUure them with flies, worms,
bait, all to no purpose. On inquiry, I found that
Segueson had taken some by salmon-flies ; not in
the usual way, but by accident. He had hooked
them in the side gills and tail. An idea struck
me that such a system might be available; and,
stringing together about twenty stout pike hooks,

MULLET-FISHING. 213
I awaited the bubbling which indicated the pre
sence of the shoal. I threw over them with a long
rod, and jagged the Une after it had sunk amidst
them. This plan was comparatively simple, and
I had the pleasure of adding to my fish-dinner, in
which my friend, the surgeon, was generaUy joined,
the exquisite mullet.

214 FISHING YACHT.

CHAPTER XIV.
An Extempore Fishing Yacht — The Knight of Kerry — Colony
of Fishermen — Fishing Arrangements — A Night's Fishing —
An Unexpected Prize — Paddy Shea — The Perfection of Sport
— A Great Haul — Cormorant Soup — Threatening Weather —
Irish Superstition — A Storm — Courage ofthe Irish Fisher
men — Dangers and Escapes — A Dance — An Event — Dangers
ofthe Irish Coast — Frightful Scene of Shipwreck — A suspi
cious Visit — Irish Smugglers — Tax on the Poor Man's Comfort,
Tobacco. My quarters at Cahirciveen were, after a few
days' stay at Waterville, resumed. I had heard,
and was resolved to be convinced, that the iron-
bound coast of Kerry was celebrated for sea-fishing.
I had no difficulty at Cahir in setting up a good
fishing yacht, which consisted of a newly-built sand
boat, which, at a very moderate rental, was easily
procured. With the assistance of the carpenter,
we soon turned it into a very convenient vessel of
about twelve tons.
There are no fishermen at Cahir ; although the
coast on the outer side of Waterville is abundant

YACHT FISHING. 215
in every kind of fish, yet no regular market exists.
The farmers, therefore, at particular seasons, make
common cause in attacking the herrings and
mackarel; few attempt any other method, not
withstanding the supply of fish in a catholic
country would be deemed so essential.
To remedy this want, during his stay in the
country, the Knight of Kerry, whose property the
isle of Valencia is, had invited a small colony of
fishermen, consisting of four men from Dingle.
The terms he gave them were apparently advan
tageous ; they were supplied with houses and small
plots of land, a small hooker and tackle. The
knight, I believe, was to be supplied with one third
of the produce as his share, and the residue was to
be equally divided among the men.
The plan had not succeeded, for I found that the
poor fellows had gone through a very dreary winter,
with little or no sale for their fish; and, on my
arrival at the island, which is not more than three
or four miles from Cahir, they were on the point of
abandoning their engagement, and returning to
Dingle. It will be a satisfactory guide to my successors to
set forth the terms I entered into for the services
of this crew. Four were by no means too many
for the heavy rigging in use among fishermen here.
The boats have two masts without stays, and two

216 YACHT FISHING.
very large spritsafls, simple enough in construction,
but by no means easy of management in a roUing
sea, such as we were liable outside the island to
encounter. In calms, also, it was absolutely neces
sary to have considerable strength in the boat; so
that I at once engaged the whole crew. The cap
tain's wages were, per week, seven shillings ; the
others received six shiUings each. To this I sub
sequently made an addition, by supplying the
potato store myself. Small as these wages were,
in the course of a month the sum each had accu
mulated amounted to a small fortune. Having
made all arrangements, among which the most
important were the long lines and i;eep sea tackle
— a good cooking apparatus — we set sail down
the Cahir river, the evening being beautifully
serene. We arrived about six at the island of
Valencia, where I found a very snug little inn, the
hostess being an English woman ; and the welcome
the English gentleman received was indeed cordial.
Having supplied all little omissions here, we set
forth for a night's fishing.
There are two outlets round the island, which
will admit ships of considerable burden. Both,
however, are of a dangerous character, unless under
very skilful pilotage ; the southern outlet passes
by, on either side, immense and towering ranges of
perpendicular rocks of awful height. The sea has

NIGHT SPORT. 217
worn immense caverns under their bases ; and, even
in the calmest weather, the roaring of the Atlantic,
as each succession of waves retires from the im
moveable mass, is singularly terrific. On the
extreme point of Valencia there are the remains
of CromweU's fort; a position commanding the
whole island, and effectually prohibiting all hostile
entrance into the harbour. Once having passed
this fort, there is no landing-place for twenty
miles round the coast, either way. A depth of
twenty fathoms is found within a yard of the rocks
which compose the coast.
With a gentle breeze and a favouring current,
we reached the fishing- ground just as the evening
was closing, first threw out our long lines, and
brought to an anchor. We had hit the exact mo
ment ; no sooner were our lines at the bottom, than
whiting, of a very large size, and such as are never
seen in England, were drawn up. These were
immediately put on the large hooks, and set out.
Four lines, baited with muscles, were continually
going, till darkness stopped our further sport. We
now trimmed the fire ; put on our enormous kettle
of potatoes ; erected a very comfortable tent, by the
help of the sails and yards ; and, with the addition
of boiled whiting and good whiskey, enjoyed a
capital supper.
While, however, we were busily employed in
VOL. I. L

218 NIGHT SPORT.
discussing these comforts, sundry vehement tugs at
the boat's side indicated the neighbourhood of some
of the tyrants of the deep. The first I was impa
tient to haul with my own hands.
" Arrah ! Paddy Shea ; is it yourself that'll be
afther lifting his honour lose his hands ! catch
hould and haul."
I found this assistance timely, as I had just come0
to a stand ; the fish having, as the sailors call it,
bored downwards. After another impetus, how
ever, supplied by the assistance of Paddy Shea, an
enormous creature of the skate kind was secured.
He was as large as an ordinary table, and weighed
very nearly one hundred weight.
The only mode by which we could, on our arrival
at Cahir, carry him up the town, was by thrusting
one of the spars through his body, and thus sus
pending him between two men. Conger-eels were
a terrible annoyance ; but the occasional landing a
ling, which is here held in high esteem, and which
is indeed an excellent fish, again inspirited my
little crew.
Paddy Shea, I soon discovered, was in high re
pute as a dancer, while my captain was somewhat
celebrated as a singer. There was no lack of
amusement between the frequent calls made on us
by our lines. At length, however, one hand being
constituted the watch, all were ordered to turn in.

NIGHT SPORT. 219
Our beds were by no means uncomfortable. The
foresail, well folded, served every purpose of a
couch ; our time was short, as, with the gray of
morning, we were to make our first haul at the
long lines. We had now a good stock of ordinary
fish, and I was impatient to see the result of the
long line in the deep water.
Certainly the perfection of sport is the oppor
tunity of fishing new ground. When I call the
coast around the isle of Valencia new ground, it
must be understood to convey this meaning — that
it has never been attempted with a net, trail, or
any other means than the deep sea-line, and even
that has been very sparingly used.
The delight I felt at the first violent movement
perceptible on the long line will be easily under
stood ; and, as the white body approached the
surface, the conjecture as to the "kind of prey was
highly amusing. The first was a fine cod ; next,
conger- eel ; third, a large ling, skate, haddock ;
then only a row of heads, the bodies having fallen
victims to the ruthless community by which, in
their thraldom, they had been surrounded. Flat
fish, and here and there a tolerable turbot, served
to supply us with so splendid a cargo of fish as to
render all further pursuit useless.
On our return homeward, millions of cormorants,
forming black masses on the projecting rocks,
L 2

220 DISPOSAL OF THE FISH.
attracted our attention. So little had these been
disturbed, none of the fishermen who frequented
the coasts around being possessed of fire-arms, that
there was no difficulty whatever in approaching
within gun-shot. With the first volley, however,
all dived ; the second barrel was ready for those
who appeared first on the surface, many popping
up their heads within three yards of the boat.
The hand and eye must be quick, for the instant
they perceive their mistake they as suddenly dis
appear. The sport, however, is very exhilarating,
as it is endless ; while, under a steady foresail and
good breeze, the ground is continually changed.
Puffins, teal, cormorants, gannets, and gulls, would,
with a good breeze and a good shot, soon load a
boat. On returning to Cahir, we found we were possessed
of about three hundred weight of fish of all descrip
tions. The weather had now become too warm for
salting. I sent, therefore, a few to the inn; and gave
public notice to all the poor of Cahir, who chose to
come for their share, that they should be supplied.
In this division, the produce really of value to the
destitute and helpless, I took much pleasure ; and
I felt that the life of a sportsman is not necessarily
a useless one ; for, although the coast is so abun
dant in the produce, there are none possessed of the
means or skiU to furnish the Friday's meal. Of

APPROACHING STORM. 221
the birds, with the exception of the teal, which are
not so numerous as the rest, I can say little in
praise. The cormorants make, I am told, a good soup,
not unlike that derived from the hare; and,
although the priests have decided that the puffin
is not a bird, but a fish, and there is in consequence
a general dispensation that it may be eaten on a
Friday, I availed myself but once of the privilege.
I was perfectly satisfied that, without the dispensa
tion, T should have little sinned in that way. The
plover, however, abundance of which are here found,
roast well.
As yet, all my experience on these seas had been
accompanied by singularly fine weather; but, on
our third or fourth day, when about twenty miles
from the Skelligs, we perceived a heavy roll of the
sea coming in from the Atlantic ; a hazy dulness
gradually covered the horizon, and mixed its clear
blue with the darker cloud ; the breeze, which had
hitherto carried us, now died to a perfect calm ;
nature seemed at once to fall into a sudden repose ;
not even the cry of the wild bird disturbed the
distant echoes of the caverns, whose hollow recesses
sent forth the accumulated wave, as if indignant at
the intrusive volumes.
The darkness of day is solemn, and the spirits
unconsciously flag. Not a fish was moving, aware

222 A STORM.
of the coming change ; the sea-monsters ceased
from their prey ; and nothing now was seen upon
the increasing masses, which appeared causelessly to
blend one with another, but an occasional shoal of
porpoises making towards the land.
The crew looked at each other, and spoke in
Irish, in a low and mysterious tone : at length, my
captain ventured to hint that, as the sails were
useless, and the weight of the masts increased the
rolling of the boat, we might as well have all in,
and take to our oars. Our compass was duly con
sulted, that we might not lose in the coming mist
our exact position ; there was little or no current,
and, should we lose sight of land, the entrance to
Valencia might be easily hit. It was on Friday ;
the effect of superstition was becoming manifest,
and it was not difficult to perceive that my little
crew, accustomed as they were to the sudden gales
which come in upon this coast from the broad
Atlantic, looked as much for approaching danger
in the day as the elements.
Two hours were laboriously spent in pulling to
wards land ; but the sea had, as we approached it,
increased to a mountainous roll, while a few large
drops of rain, and a suffocating heat, betokened the
arrival of the storm. A scudding breeze tipped the
surface of the swell; a distant crash was heard,
which reverberated around the shores. The oars

A STORM. 223
fell from the hands of my little crew, and each was
momentarily on his knees, uttering a prayer in
Irish, and crossing himself in great apparent
agitation. This done, for I would not interrupt their devo
tion, I began to remonstrate with them on the
terror they seemed to exhibit. I found myself
utterly mistaken; there was no fear of danger;
and as each rose from the performance of what he
deemed an humble acknowledgment of the divine
power, I could perceive a resolution and determina
tion which reassured me in the coming difficulties.
The wind had now begun steadily to increase ;
scudding squalls passed rapidly ; while, at intervals,
the heavens opened with liquid fire. The masts
were to be shipped; and here it was the coarse
and rude style of rigging presented its difficulties.
The weight of the sprits, which was enormous,
aided by the sudden lurching of the boat as she
fell into the trough, rendered the setting the
foresail a matter of danger ; but we were rapidly
drifting towards the island, and no time was to be
lost in getting the boat close to the wind. This
at length accomplished, she became more steady, '
but the gale rapidly increased ; and, as she mounted
the now breaking summits of the heavy and long
seas, it became apparent that we should not fetch
the upper entrance of the island.

224 A STORM.
A consultation was now held,, as to the pro
priety of getting up the mainsail, and at once
putting her on the sea tack. The objections
were, that we might lose our reckoning, and miss
the entrance, while nothing but destruction awaited
our falling below the island. The mainsail was at
length got up ; and now, indeed, we began to feel
the value of good ballast. She stood up- admirably
— wet, indeed — but stiffly ; and, though we found
ourselves, by my unluckily letting her fall off a
point just as she was rising, once or twice buried
in the crest of a sea, we had no apprehension but
that she would, in one tack, stand up for the
harbour. We kept well out to sea — gunwales under — just
shivering the sails as the gusts increased, and still
she kept to the wind. Another terrific crash of
thunder, which appeared close over our heads,
again prostrated my men. I began to be angry,
as I, being at the helm, needed their assistance at
the sheets.
It was at this moment that a squall came off
the headland, catching the sea at about a quarter
of a mile from our little struggling vessel. The
surface seemed uprooted; the foam danced over
the ocean in a white mass ; and, ere I could sum
mon the attention of the men, the boat was on her
beam ends. Luckily, on the first touch of the

A STORM. 225
squall, I had put the helm a-lee ; she ran up into
the wind suddenly; and this, perhaps, was the cause
of her righting. But I had run her too sharply up ;
the squall caught the foresail aback, smashed the
mast, and, in an instant, our vessel presented a
wreck. The coolness and determination of my men was
imperturbable, though I confess my own courage
had long since flagged.
We had no difficulty, except from the tremen
dous rolling, in shipping the mainmast forwards,
and again bringing our bark to the wind ; but, no
sooner had we done so, than a new and unforeseen
danger sprang up ; our compass, in the fall of the
foremast, had been demolished, and I immediately
.fixed my eye upon an opening stream of light,
which had emanated from the direction in which
the island stood.
The gale now increased to a hurricane. Our
spare sail was drawn round the leeward side, to
form a bulwark, as nothing but keeping her well
to windward could effect our safety. Every minute
we were covered with a breaking sea; and one
with a crest, that denoted the extent to which the
gale had arrived, broke in upon the forecastle, and
literally smothered Paddy Shea. The good humour
of the fellow, as he rubbed the water from his eyes,
almost caused, in our state of danger, that kind of
L5

226 THE' HARBOUR.
uncontrollable laughter from which even the con
demned cannot on occasion refrain.
The danger of missing CromweU's fort, at the
southern end of the island, was pregnant with a
frightful alternative — that of running before the
wind, round the island, and entering by Bray
Head. Fortunately, we were not reduced to this,
for the wind came more free round Doulus Head ;
and, to our satisfaction, when we made the point,
we found ourselves midway. The entrance became
now the last danger; the sea, rolling in from the
southern Atlantic, had assumed by this time a
terrific height, and as each wave was rejected by the
bold shores of either side, the midchannel, through
which our course lay, formed a mass of raging
confusion, through which we ultimately dashed,
with one or two seas completely over us.
"Hurrah !" exclaimed Paddy Shea — "we'll want
no more washing for a week." " Hurrah !" ex
claimed the rest — " It's the boat that'll do it, any
how." All confidence and honour seemed now, by general
consent, to be placed in the boat. Our short passage
round the island, to the quay, was readily accom
plished, amid the utmost hilarity, which the cold,
wet, hunger, and even the deprivation of the conso
latory pipe, could not repress.
Thou who wouldst enjoy the pleasure of such an

A WRECK. 227
arrival, must undergo the disagreeable part of such
a trip; and the cost is rather extravagant. We
met every accommodation and comfort at the
little inn, where we had, for an apparently inde
finite time, established our quarters. Our absence
had, it seems, occasioned considerable apprehen
sion, and several boats from the island had gone
round the Bray Head passage to look for us.
They were returning just as we arrived ; and, at
the suggestion of Paddy Shea, we were to have
the piper, " any way." He was sent for; the in
habitants of the island soon assembled, for a dance
is an attraction not to be resisted.
As the storm raged, the piper played the louder;
and, just as I had accomplished the difficulty of
the jig, a half-drowned, shoeless, hatless islander,
burst into the room. He uttered something in
Irish — the piper dropt his instrument, and each
betook himself to his covering. It was some time
before I could get any explanation. " It was no
matter to my honour — my honour was to go to
rest, any way."
Insisting, however, on hearing what was the
cause of this sudden excitement, I learned that there
was a large ship beating against the perpendicular
rocks of the island, where every soul must inevi
tably perish.
It is to be lamented that so little is known of

228 A WRECK.
the Irish coast. From their ignorance of the
appearance or situation of the few lights which
are barely sprinkled along it, captains of foreign
vessels continually mistake the Blasket lights for
the entrance of the Shannon, and thus run up a
blind bay — which Dingle bay is — without a har
bour, and with very little possible protection from
the weather.
This had been doubtlessly the case in the present
instance. Having accompanied the rest to the
heights which overhung the spot where the devoted
vessel was dashing her sides against the huge
masses of granite, a scene of the. most harrowing
character presented itself. A mastless ship was
lifted up by a wave, twenty or thirty yards, and
dashed against the rocks. Three of the doomed
crew spread forth their hands to us as we hailed
them from the cliffs in hopeless supplication.
" A rope ! a rope !" was reiterated on all hands.
On letting it down to the deck, one caught hold ;
but, before he could be raised one half the necessary
distance, he fell from his grasp, and was- buried in
the raging sea.
We were mute spectators of the scene below.
The cries of the two remaining crew were heart
rending. One of those had been injured ; for, as
the vessel heeled, and apparently was settling
downwards, the other took him in his arms and

A WRECK. 229
placed him in a momentary safety. This done,
both wrung their hands, and looked towards us in
their extremity. Once more did the vessel rise with
the swell — one dash against the stern mass which
formed their doom, and the whole fabric, with its
burden, disappeared. The bursting waves roUed
on, and the noble vessel, with all that she con
tained, passed away as a phantom.
This was the Henry Brougham — a noble vessel
— and many a hut which now cheers the coast of
Cahir and Valencia has been erected with the
timbers of which she was composed.
The relation may seem trite — the reality was
terrific. Little, indeed, is known of the horrors of
this iron-bound coast; and, were it not for the
occasional aid presented by the coast-guard, hun
dreds of stately vessels would here meet their fate,
unpitied and unseen.
After having done all that our limited means
would allow, to secure aid to any possible survivors
of the wreck, we returned to the inn, greatly de
pressed by the awful scenes of which we had been
witness. Here we found another arrival; a boat
from Kinsale had pushed her way mastless through
the lower passage round the island. The crew
had by mere personal labour accomplished this
extraordinary feat, having rowed sixteen hours, as
they .declared, without rest or food.

230 FISHERMEN.
I could easily believe the latter to have been the
fact. Those who are acquainted with Irish sea
men cannot but have observed the patient en
durance of hunger and labour which they manifest,
without the least complaint. The fishermen on
the Dingle side of the bay are accustomed through
out the year to endure the cold and wet necessarily
attendant upon their dangerous occupation, with
no further comforts than boiled potatoes and very
slight covering afford ; yet, without the least mur
mur, they are not unfrequently subjected to the
deprivation of the potatoes, where the sea is high
and smothers their Uttle fire.
It is perfectly wonderful, that, with such mise
rable tackle as that with which their boats are
rigged, more losses should not occur. I believe,
however, I am correct in saying, that, in three
years, not one boat's crew had been lost.
I visited the newly-arrived crew, and was shocked
at the poor covering which had been opposed to
the inclemency of the storm. Legs naked — nothing
but a mass of rags, suspended from the middle,
formed their dress. Neither hats, caps, nor shirts,
encumbered their physical energies. But they were
perfectly happy. Wet as they were, the panacea for
all evils, the pipe, afforded the consolation which
the possession of all other comfort would not have
supplied.

AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 231
They were not communicative, and seemed
rather to fence off all inquiries as to their mode of
fishing, and the success they had met. It appears
they had been overtaken before they had com
menced their labours, and the first squall had
carried both their masts by the board. Deter
mined, however, to ascertain what the coast east
ward produced, I applied my inquiries to one who
seemed more disposed to frame answers than the
rest. There was a look of suspicion directed to
his comrades, as he replied to my interrogations,
and a cleverness in the answers, that induced me to
regard him with a stricter eye. I was confident
I had seen him before. He acknowledged that it
was so, and disclosed his under jacket, which
I immediately recognized as the slight uniform
which had been presented to him in Spain, in lieu
of his ten pounds.
He informed me that he had starved through
the country, till chance had brought him to Kinsale,
where he had joined a fishing-boat, under hope of
share. This was his first trip — and it had ended,
he said, as all his other ventures had, in total dis
comfiture. He informed me that, notwithstanding
the storm, they purposed to put to sea that night ;
a resolution I strongly opposed, as unlikely to meet
with any thing but destruction.
He took me aside. " Sir," said he, " I know

232 THE STORM-SAILORS.
I can trust you — you were kind to me in the
packet — I have not forgotten it. Do not oppose
our putting out to-night. We know the coast,
and the wind is abating. This is, to us, glorious
weather — the only weather, in fact, in which we
dare face the sea. We have already done our
business here, and hope to accomplish another
wreck before morning on the coast of Dingle."
" Your fishing will be useless on such a night."
" Useful as it ever was to us. The coast-guard
are still quietly asleep in their cottages, never
dreaming of boats or landing on such a night and
in such a hurricane — a whiff of good tobacco is,
after all, the best thing in the world — and it is
hard the poor should not be allowed the only com
fort they ask, in their destitute and miserable con
dition. They will have it, however, after this
storm." I now comprehended the whole affair. It was
only in gales of wind such a crew dared venture
to sea; or, having done so, would dare to land;
to them and the stormy petrel the tempest brought
joy. They were smugglers of the poor man's
luxury — tobacco ; they had that night run part of
their cargo; and I was not long in discovering
that even my own crew were their aiders and
abettors. I did not blame them — and, as Owen
would say, " smaU blame to myself for that same."

TAX ON TOBACCO. 233
Detestable tax, invented by the rich, and im
posed on a commodity exclusively consumed by
the poor !

234 WATERVILLE.

CHAPTER XV.
Visit to Waterville — New Mode of Angling — Mistake about the
Potato Diet of the Irish — Cobbett right as to its Mischievous
Effects — Drive to Tralee— Miserable State of the Peasantry
— Prevalence of Scrofula and Consumption — Fine Moun
tain Scenery — Castlemaine — The River — The White Trout
— The Lob Trout — Fine Shooting Station for Sea-Fowl and
Grouse — Sporting Exciseman — Folly and Rapacity of Irish
Landlords — The Surgeon's Tale — The Murderers — A Mys
terious Character — Irish Court of Justice — The Trial — The
Defence — The Cross-Examination — The Verdict — The Mys
tery explained.
As I felt that I had been personally obliged by
my friend, the surgeon, at Waterville, I drove over
to pass two days with him, previously to his quitting
the country ; and ordered my little yacht round to
Ballinskelligs Bay, for the purpose of joining me
there, and trying the sea-fishing of that celebrated
spot. The time of the surgeon's visit had run out,
and my purpose was to show him at parting as
much amusement as the varied sports of the de
lightful Waterville would allow.

NEW MODE OF ANGLING. 235
All our lake lines were in requisition, and it
most fortunately turned out one of the best days
we had experienced on the lake. I found, however,
that it was by no means a day of uncommon success
with him ; having followed my plan of night-lines
and trailing, he had, with little labour, supplied all
his poor patients with that which, indeed, many of
them more immediately needed than physic — I
mean nourishment. He had hit upon a new mode
of angling, which had turned out very amusingly
during the hot weather and fine sunny days, when
exertion was by no means desirable. He had been
fitting up three or four very long rods from the
wolds, which every where cover the sides of the
lake. To these he had attached lines loaded with
lead; and, baiting with the earthworm of the
largest kind, had planted himself on some of the
rocks at the back of the little island on the lake.
Throwing himself on the grass, which covers the
tops of the ledges, he had amused himself with a
favourite book, while, as Izaak says, his " angles
fished for him, and were put out to interest." He
succeeded in kiUing very fine trout by this means,
the only particular caution being necessary of keep
ing out of sight. He had discovered, also, that
the lake had another species of fish, unknown to
the inhabitants of its banks — a flat fish of the
flounder kind, but exceedingly delicious for the

236 INFALLIBLE BAIT.
table. They, no doubt, make their way up from
the sea, as I have not unfrequently discovered them
in the lakes of Scotland, where the communication
was easy.
The salmon and sea- trout had afforded him,
during my absence, unremitting sport ; and he ex
pressed himself in terms of the warmest gratitude,
such as a sportsman can really entertain for the
amusement I had secured him in the communica
tion of the secret of the infallible bait — the salmon-
roe. He had not, however, been allowed to pursue
the even tenor of his way at Waterville. His fame
had for him too rapidly and too widely spread;
and the calls on his humanity had become so inces
sant, that he hardly regretted the return to his
professional pursuits elsewhere.
We found the bay crowded with mackarel and
gurnet, which afforded a good afternoon's sport,
but it was of too monotonous a character to be
worth the labour. The shooting was improved by
the late gale, as it had brought to land innume
rable flights of gannet, some of which we secured.
The bay, however, having no harbour, is an unsafe
station for a boat ; and I ordered the crew to take
her round again to Valencia, while my friend and
myself proceeded next morning to Tralee.
Nothing is more fallacious than the opinion
generally entertained, that the Irish are healthy on

THE POTATO. 237
the meagre diet the potato affords. From the pre
valent diseases of these mountains, as well as from
the illness which I find in towns where the potato
is the staple, I have arrived at the fullest convic
tion that it is not suited to human food for any
continuance. " The disregard to human life," said the surgeon,
" exhibited in the hard measure of justice, dealt out
by a British government to these unhappy islanders,
is worthy only of execration. What is now to be done
I know not, but it is impossible not to perceive that
nearly all the fatal diseases among them originate
in the absence of proper and generous nutrition.
Wherever skill is applied to a failing constitution,
we find it unavailing ; there is no native strength
to sustain a change, or to apply sanative resources.
When sick from any cause, they generaUy die;
and a disorder which, among a well fed-people,
would bear no danger to them, brings death even
in youth. You cannot but have perceived the
rigidity of expression in the countenance of the
youngest here. The prevalence also of scrofula,
the sore eyes, and frequent blindness, are referable
to the potato diet. Out of fifty, who at an early
age meet death, more than half that number have
expired, not from the ostensible disorder by which
they were first attacked, but by that universal
CUrse — the potato. Cobbett was quite right in

238 TRALEE.
deploring its introduction as an irremediable mis
fortune. It enabled the landlords to compel their
vassals to subsist on a lower and less nutritious
diet, from which they will hardly ever be able to
escape, but by a determined effort, which may,
while it procures food proper for man, at the same
time establish their independence as a people."
The drive to Tralee displayed to me more than
I had yet observed of the terrible state of misery to
which the rural population of this district is reduced.
Children, literally without any covering, or, perhaps,
only a ragged shirt, defying the rain and wind,
and apparently not aware ofthe possible comfort
of any superior clothing. At one cottage, where
we stopped, we found nine children, all under ten
years of age; the mother nursing two, and con
sequently herself helpless, while the father's wages
did not exceed fourpence per day.
It is remarkable that the children, throughout
Ireland, bear all the indications of strong health.
This appearance is deceptive ; the tendency to
scrofula and consumption_every where exists ; and
both these diseases need only some exciting cause
to display their horrors.
The passage by the side of the mountain, on
entering Castlemaine, is of the finest order of
scenery; and, from a considerable elevation, the
beautiful bay bursts upon the sight. The river

TRALEE. 239
which forms this bay is the Alang, composed of
two rivers, the Flesk (not the Killarney Flesk), and
another mountain stream of some volume.
The stream at Castlemaine is sluggish, but there
will be found exceUent fishing for white trout and
the common trout, two miles from the town. There
is also in abundance, in the river, what is called the
lob-trout, which I have before described. Here
they become large ; indeed I found them quite
three pounds in the tide's way.
Although the accommodation is not very good,
yet a station might be made for shooting at Castle
maine during the winter. The entrance to the
bay is safe, and the shores easy of access. It is
crowded with every variety of sea -fowl, while the
neighbouring mountains afford continual amuse
ment in an undisturbed stock of grouse. I say
undisturbed, for I believe they are seldom shot
over. The only sportsman I could discover, resident
at Castlemaine, was the exciseman. Of him I
learned, and he affected to make a considerable
favour of the communication, that there were
abundance of grouse on the hills.
On inquiry of my landlord, I found that he was
not deceiving me ; for, having abandoned his rule,
like a bold exciseman, on the first day of the season
(a day not very scrupulously regarded) he had pro
duced at Castlemaine more than thirty head of

240 TRALEE.
grouse. They are not esteemed by the residents;
and there are no means of sending them to the
other side of the island.
The entrance into Tralee is now so much im
proved as at once to inspire the notion, that we
have as suddenly emerged from all that was wild
and uncultivated to a high state of civilization.
The town is nearly all new, and has, I believe,
been built within a few years. Cottages and
really handsome houses, adjoining each other, in
an agreeable variety. There are here, even, rows
of houses, built in the English fashion, with the
exception only of the usual inattention to the en
trance ; a disregard of which, either for cleanliness
or appearance, the Irish, on this side the island,
share in common with the Spaniards and Portu
guese, their immediate neighbours, from whom no
doubt many of their habits have been borrowed.
The bay of Tralee presents the most eligible site
for building ; but I am informed that the land
cannot be leased for a less sum than ten pounds per
acre, per annum ; an effectual barrier to any thing
like possible improvement.
The rapacious folly of these wretched landlords is
worthy of reprobation. Thousands of acres remain
uncultivated, producing nothing but the rank and
useless reed, yet at such an elevation from the sea
as would render the effectual recovery of them a

INNS. 241
matter of easy execution. Yet, I believe, a lease
for lives — even of such property — can only be
obtained on such exorbitant terms as to render the
attempt hopeless. The land, therefore, remains
uncultivated ; the people are idle, and starve.
My friend, the surgeon, marshalled me into the
head inn.
" This is my second visit to Tralee," said my
companion. " I had once visited it under other cir
cumstances, and such as made so deep an impres
sion on my mind as will not easily be effaced. It
was in this very room that I took my solitary dinner.
On that day the assizes were held at Tralee ; and,
finding the accommodations in the way of lodgings
all bespoken, I was necessarily obliged to resort to
the inn. An Irish inn is a spunging-house, when
situated in the capital of any district, where the
charges are immoderate, the attendance bad, and
the provisions worse.
" As I took my soUtary meal, the door of what
is here called the coffee-room — but, in comparison
with such rooms as you are accustomed to in
England, would be considered a tap-room — was
thrown open, and in walked a person of some
apparent pretensions. His whiskers were enor
mous, and his moustaches were of considerable
growth. His appearance was of the inconsistent
order ; his countenance bespoke rather a bold de-
VOL. i. M

242 MYSTERIOUS STRANGER.
fiance than any engaging interest. He bowed,
however, politely to me ; and inquired if there were
any objects worthy of note in this dull town, which
he professed not before to have visited.
" I explained my ignorance of the locale, and
also the object of my visit, which was then made
for the purpose of fishing. He also drew from me
that I was unacquainted with any person in that
neighbourhood, and then stated that he was similarly
circumstanced. " It is singular by what trifles we are sometimes
induced to form an estimate of character. My first
impressions were that this stranger was a gentle
man ; I, however, wavered when I saw him throw
off an elegant and most expensive great-coat, and,
for a moment (the error was immediately detected
by himself) , exhibit a marvellously foul shirt. This,
however, might be a national inattention to the
person. His conversation was shrewd, and by no
means vulgar, though the chain of his watch was
brass, and the gorgeous eye-glass, which was sus
pended round his neck, was gilt.
" He informed me that he had travelled nearly
throughout Ireland, with a view of forming some
opinion of the capabilities it possessed of more
extensive trade and manufacture ; that he had ex
amined all the mines which had been opened, and
that he had hope of introducing the iron trade

THE ASSIZES. 243
to some extent. He familiarly referred to persons
of high mercantile character, whom he connected
with his views ; and, having despatched his break
fast with an air of authority, he demanded of the
waiter what would be procured for dinner, and
whether his horse was properly attended to, and
fed. " The first inquiry was easily answered, as the
catalogue of an Irish larder is not difficult to be
run through. This point settled, his next inquiry
was relating to the lions of the place. The waiter
informed him that, in addition to the church and
the harbour, the assizes had that day commenced ;
and that there was a trial of some interest expected
to take place, relative to a murder. Of this he
expressed great indifference, and thought an Irish
court of justice not likely to be very amusing. As
he had little of the Irish accent, though in some
words he uttered it was sufficiently marked, I con
cluded that he wished to pass for an Englishman.
He said he was English, but that he had caught a
little of the brogue from the frequent visits he had
paid this country.
" He now invited me to join him in the dinner,
to which I expressed my assent ; and we both pro
ceeded to view the lions, and thence to the court
house. Having found our way into the gallery of
the court, and obtained good seeing-places, we
m2

244 TRIAL FOR MURDER.
found the jurymen already assembling, and answer
ing to their names.
" The important cause was just coming on, and
the prisoner was now conducted to the bar. He
was an elderly man of fifty, perhaps more, decently
dressed, and wore a brown wig. His face was ex
pressive, though entire confidence seemed to pervade
that expression. His appearance altogether, how
ever, created no prepossessing effect. During the
charge, he was in constant communication with his
attorney, and frequently shook his head with a sort
of smiling dissent.
" The charge was that, in company with others,
he, on the night ofthe 14th of May, had murdered
and robbed the Rev.  , in  wood.
"' The counsel for the prisoner now applied to
the court for a postponement of the trial, on the
ground of the absence of material witnesses, whom
every exertion had been made to find. It was
stated that a clear and convincing defence could be
established in the form of an alibi, but that it had
been impossible as yet to find the parties, whose
testimony would effectually clear the prisoner of
every imputation. This application was refused
by the judge, and the trial proceeded.
" Witnesses now stated that, on the day in
question, they were passing down the road which
skirts the wood of  , about one in the morning,

THE MURDERERS. 245
on their return from  fair. They distinctly
heard the cry of murder, and at first feared to
enter the wood. On its repetition, the witness and
his fellow-traveller, arming themselves as well as
they could, proceeded to the spot whence the cry
had emanated. They clearly saw two men rifling
the pockets of the murdered man. They fell on
them, and, after some blows, the murderers fled.
Two others then rushed from the thicket, and
joined the retreating party, who were soon out of
sight ; and the witnesses now directed their atten
tion to the dying man, whom, on being brought to
the road, they recognized as the Rev. Mr.  .
He was not dead, but faintly declared that he had
been set on by four men, who had stabbed him in
three places, and robbed him of one thousand pounds,
which it was known he had that day received as
tithes at  . He particularly described one
man, who was dressed in a white great-coat : that
was the man the witness had seen running from the
deceased — it was the prisoner at the bar.
" On cross-examination, both witnesses admitted
that the dress was a considerable ground of their
belief in the prisoner's identity. They both agreed
that he had a wig, which corresponded with that he
now wore.
" It was some days after the murder that the
prisoner had been apprehended. He had only

246 THE MURDERERS.
some silver in his possession, and professed his
entire ignorance of the crime at the time of being
taken. He added, also, that he was not in the
country at the time the murder was committed.
" On re-examination, the witnesses swore posi
tively to the identity of the prisoner, and adduced
many circumstances to show that they could not
have been mistaken. Indeed, it was impossible to
shake their testimony ; and, with this evidence, the
case for the prosecution closed.
" The prisoner was now called on for his defence.
He stated, in good language, that he had ever felt
the utmost confidence in the providence of God,
and his case was a signal instance of it. Notwith
standing all his exertions, and those of his solicitor,
to procure the attendance of some witnesses, who
could establish his innocence, he had failed in find
ing them; but at that moment he beheld a gentle
man in the gallery, who could certainly give the
court very satisfactory evidence.
" As the stranger and myself were now the
objects of general attention, we both unconsciously
rose, and the prisoner at once pointed out my com
panion as the gentleman to whom he referred.
Hereupon the stranger addressed his lordship,
and assured him that he knew nothing whatever of
the cause, the crime, or the prisoner ; that he
had never heard of the murder itself, much less of

THE MURDERERS. 247
the prisoner, or the circumstances connected with
it ; that he was there by entire accident, being on
his way to the north of Ireland, and that he only
waited in the town while his horse rested.
" The judge intimated that, as the prisoner
demanded it, he must be sworn. Again protesting
against the necessity of being made a witness in a
matter of whicli he was wholly ignorant, he reluc
tantly descended, and was sworn. He was then
examined. "The Judge. 'Do you know the prisoner at the
bar?' '" I do not. To my remembrance I never before
saw him. My being in this town, much more in
this court, is purely the effect of accident. There
must, therefore, be some mistake on the part of the
prisoner. I never saw him before.'
" Prisoner. ' Look on me. Are you certain
you have never seen me before ? '
" ' I am morally certain I never before saw you.'
" Prisoner. 'Pray, sir — for much depends on
it — look carefully at my features. Do you re
member no traces of them ?'
" ' None.'
"'Can your memory suggest no occasion on
which we have met ?'
"'I have distinctly answered that I know nothing
whatever of you. I have no recollection of either
your person, manner, or voice. I cannot, there-

248 THE MURDERERS.
fore, but wonder at the extraordinary accident or
mistake which has forced me to stand here to
repeat it, after the declaration of my entire igno
rance of the whole business before the court.'
" Prisoner. ' Now, sir, do you remember me ?'
" The prisoner here took off his wig, and exhi
bited a head nearly bald, but with a large unhealed
scar on the scalp. The witness, after carefully
looking at the prisoner, manifested some confusion
and surprise, and addressed the court.
" ' My lord, I must beg pardon of your lordship
and this court ; I do now remember the prisoner,
and more particularly by the scar on the head.
The circumstance which recals him to my remem
brance is, that, on my passage from Liverpool to
Dublin, this man, during the evening and night at
sea, was exceedingly entertaining. He sung comic
songs with great talent, and appeared in such bad
circumstances that, among a few gentlemen in the
packet, we made a trifling subscription for him.
While he was receiving the amount from the hands
of a gentleman who had much admired his singing,
and had taken off his hat in returning thanks, a
block which had been hanging loose from the
rigging fell on his head. The fall inflicted, what
we considered then, a very serious wound; but,
after it had been dressed by a surgeon, who hap
pened to be on board the packet, he recovered,

THE MURDERERS. 249
and there were some jocular observations as to the
cause of the accident — remarks on his being too
polite — and, in the end, a second subscription was
entered into for the purpose of purchasing a wig,
when he might be quite as polite at a much less
cost. This is all I know of the prisoner ; as, from
that time to this, I have never seen or heard of
him — nor could I have at all recognized him unless
he had removed the wig in which he first appeared
in this court.'
" Prisoner. ' Now, sir, on what day was it that
you passed over from Liverpool to DubUn ?'
" ' I cannot remember.'
" The Judge here intimated that it might be most
important that he should accurately state the day.
" The witness said it was impossible, from me-
mory, to do so ; as, however, being concerned in
heavy mercantile affairs, and travelling much, he
had always regularly kept a diary of every day's pro
ceedings, by a reference to it he could accurately
ascertain the day. This journal, however, was at
his inn, where he had that morning arrived, and,
if an officer were directed to fetch his portmanteau,
he would at once confidently state the day.
" This was agreed to, and the portmanteau pro
duced. On opening the journal to which he had
referred, he stated that he had passed over in the
packet on the 14th day of May.
m5

250 THE MURDERERS.
" Prisoner. ' That is the day on which I am
charged with having committed this murder.'
"There was a general murmur of satisfaction
among the auditors, which was repressed by the
judge, who asked to see the journal. It was
banded to him ; he went carefully through it ; put a
few questions as to other parts of it, which were satis
factorily answered ; and he returned it to the wit
ness, with every demonstration of entire satisfaction.
"After a few inquiries as to the witness's name,
business, residence, &c, which were answered
agreeably to the account which he had previously
given me, the case was sent to the jury, and the
prisoner at once acquitted.
" I now left the court, ruminating on so extra
ordinary a coincidence of circumstances, which
had saved the life of a human creature, who was,
doubtlessly, innocent of the crime laid to his charge.
" On arriving at my inn, I found the stranger
had hastily devoured his dinner, and was already
about to start. He barely wished me good day,
and disappeared.
" The truth remains to be told. The ' mer
cantile gentleman' was the accomplice and fellow-
murderer of the acquitted prisoner !"
igSg" Since this recital was made, I am informed some of the
outlines have been before published. The facts and particulars
are, however, I believe, exactly those I have set forth.

THREE PLEASANT WEEKS. 251

CHAPTER XVI.
Three pleasant Weeks — O'Conneli as a Landlord — His Occupation
at Derrynane — His Devotion to the Peasantry — The Dancing-
Master in Ireland — Advantages of Ireland over the Continent
— Cheapness and Security of the Living — Farewell to Cahir
civeen — Departure for Dingle — Wild-Fowl Shooting — .Fishing
at Dingle — Hospitality of the resident Gentry — Trout-fishing
and Grouse-shooting — Causes and Remedy of Irish Discontent
—An Irish Wake— The Irish Howl— A Victim of the " Good
People "—A Fairy Tale.
On my return to Cahirciveen, having taken
leave of my excellent and philanthropic friend,
the surgeon, I began to make preparations for my
own departure. I had now spent three weeks at
this lovely spot; and, I believe, three weeks of
more unmixed amusement could hardly again, by
any circumstances, be achieved. There had been
no lack of society — the mild, modest, and learned
priest, Mr. F  , had been always a resource;
and between him and my hilarious and downright
host, Mr. John O'ConneU, aU my unemployed
evenings were pleasingly disposed of.

252 KERRY TENANTS.
I cannot bid farewell to the Iveragh, without
bearing testimony to the effect produced among
the populace by a kind and judicious intercourse
with their superiors. No part of Ireland wiU be
found more tranquil or free from crime than this
district — the very meanest of the tenants, poor
though indeed they are, still cherish, in honour of
their landlord, D. O'ConneU, a jealous regard to
the general reputation. What I have elsewhere
said of the Kerry peasantry will be found pecu
liarly applicable to this — here, indeed, are not
seen any of those exhibitions of violence among
themselves, so much to be deplored in many
counties — here we shall not find, as elsewhere, a
spirit of litigation, too much encouraged by the
cheap law which the courts of the assistant bar
risters present. I have, indeed, been informed
that O'Connell's tenants, by far the larger pro
portion of the inhabitants of this district, have a
court of their own — a court of appeal personally
to him, and to the settlement of their disputes —
to an investigation into their wants, and an unre
mitting endeavour to aUeviate them, is he, during
his stay at Derrynane, chiefly devoted.
I cannot say that the peasantry are unhappy — ¦
their wants are of the simplest order, and they
appear perfectly content when those are supplied.
The proximity of this county to the lively inhabi-

ADVANTAGES OF IRELAND. 253
tants of the continent has also had its influence —
and I was at first somewhat surprised to find men
and women, without shoes or stockings, submitting
to the instructions of the dancing -master and piper,
evening after evening. I found, indeed, that the
former was a regularly paid official, and his labours
were in continual demand through the summer.
The Sunday evening is, of course, a general jubilee,
in which all passers-by are requested to join. My
prejudices were soon overcome.
How can the English suffer themselves to be
so grossly deluded as to fly to the continent in
search of scenic beauty or economy ! This beau
tiful spot presents both, without the concomitant
opprobrium of exile. What part of the conti
nent presents the combined advantages of all
wild sports to be indulged in, without the land
lord's leave — good society, and cheapness that will
erect a pittance into a handsome income ? Where
are our half-pay sojourners ? — in Tours, Bologne,
or Bordeaux, where they are considered only in
truders, and despised as persons necessarily expa
triated. The danger of living in the remote parts
of Ireland is a general suggestion. Danger? In no
land is peace more profound — in none are the inha
bitants more gentle and obliging than in the wilds
of Iveragh ?
Cahirciveen, farewell! Had not pursuits that

254 DINGLE COAST.
necessarily call me to a varied intercourse with the
busy world heavy claims on my exertions, I could
be well content to erect my cottage on thy verge,
and tranquilly eke out the remainder of life amid
thy sports and beauties !
My moveables being all safely stowed on board my
little bark — my crew, in high spirits at the prospect
of revisiting their native town — we set off for
Dingle, the capital of the extreme west of Kerry.
This passage is sometimes effected in three hours,
and abounds in objects of beauty. Bold shores,
skirted by lofty rocks, tenanted by innumerable
wild birds of every species, while the surface of
the bay is blackened with flocks of puffins and
teal. The mackarel were now in the bay, and,
with the glass, I could perceive the opposite
shore dotted with black specks, formed by the nu
merous fishing-boats from Dingle. There was no
lack of amusement in the passage. Our lines, out
astern for mackarel, were productive, and we were
continually under the necessity of altering our course
to take up the produce of my double-barrel.
I had by this time become skilful in shooting wild
fowl. It is not an easy acquirement. The boat's
motion, being always crossed by the motion of the
birds swimming on the rising seas, will render
some practice necessary. They must be caught
just as they attain the summit of the wave.

DINGLE BAY. 255
As we approached the Ventry shores, numerous
boats stood towards us, and many and hearty were
the greetings of the fishermen, who had so long
lost their companions, constituting my crew. The
attachment of these people to each other is re
markable — there is not even any competition in
the sale of their produce. The hucksters, who
attend their arrival every evening, for the purpose
of conveying the fish up the mountains to Tralee
and through the country, are always prepared to
take the whole, and the prices rarely vary. They
are generally at this rate : — whiting, 5d. per
dozen, of thirteen ; mackarel, Is. 4d. per hundred;
cod, or hake, 9d. per dozen ; and all other fish in
proportion. The mode of division of the proceeds is
on a principle also that ensures unanimity. There
are six men to a boat, which is generally hired of
some large proprietor. For the boat is put aside
two shares ; the rest equally divided.
The harbour of Dingle is well adapted for
yachting; yet, with the exception of a pretty
vessel belonging to Dr. B  , a physician of con
siderable eminence, it has none of the advantages
arising from aquatic amusements. The town is
superior to those in other parts of Ireland of much
greater pretensions ; it affords excellent lodgings,
and is surrounded by seats of resident gentry.
The inhabitants of Dingle appear to have more

256 DISTRESS IN IRELAND.
comforts— are better employed, and better paid
than at most other places — while the improvements,
continually progressing under the influence of
landlords who take an interest in the management
of their own property, have contributed much to
the social advantages of the poor. The bay is a
source of endless wealth, being never without
abundance of fish of all kinds. Here also, with
letters of introduction, good society would be found;
and the open hospitality of Ireland, so fast disap
pearing, from the more mercantile districts, would
be fully recognized.
In addition to the sea-fishing, a white trout
river will be found very abundant in the smaller
kind ; as, also, exceUent grouse-shooting. I believe
none of the mountains are preserved. I wish
I could speak of the general state of this part of
Kerry in the same favourable terms as of that on
the Iveragh side. Here the chief landlord, as
usual, deserts his domain — here the tenants are
abandoned to the tender mercies of agents, while
the proprietor dissipates in a foreign land the sums
extracted from the extreme wretchedness of the poor.
What can be the object of the elaborate disser
tations daily issuing from the press, on the causes
of distress in Ireland? The cause is as obvious
as the remedy is difficult of attainment. No
money is spent in Ireland. The produce of -the

THE REMEDY. 257
soil, either in the shape of money or exportations,
is transmitted to the original proprietors, who
return no portion to the labourer — the whole is
elsewhere dissipated. The only source of em
ployment — tillage of the ground — furnishes no
means of provision for a rapidly increasing popu
lation. Manufactures — the arts — all but the
meanest exercise of man's faculties, tillage — are
absent. Rents increase in the ratio of increased
numbers, and the competition for land among
those who must live — ; and live, only by the labour
applicable to it — has reduced the peasantry to the
lowest means of subsistance. Money they have
none — labour they can alone offer as rent — and it
is by no means uncommon to find one hundred
and fifty days of the year devoted to the payment
of the rent for a miserable hut and plot of bog
ground, that would not be valued in England at
three pounds per annum.
What might not a patriotic spirit in the pro^
prietors of the soil effect for the Irish people !
Nothing is required but another direction for
labour. Mills on the streams — manufactories on
the coasts — ships for their naturally formed har
bours — aU not only within the means of the landed
proprietors, but, offering certain success, might
raise this country to a noble competition with any.
As it is, neglected, or utterly deserted by those

258 THE WAKE.
who should direct the people's energies, it presents
only a scene of destitution and misery, which, with
the number of the sufferers, must continue to
increase. Poorer, however, they can hardly be —
they are already reduced to the potato alone —
braver and more determined they may be !
" Sure, and myself will spake to his honour ;
faith and it's I have the best right. Keep back,
Paddy Shea — would you be 'truding to his honour's
own room ?"
Confused voices accompanied this remonstrance,
till I gave out intimation that Owen should singly
appear. " Well, Owen, what do the crew want ?"
"Faith, they want a holiday — it's a wake up
the hill ; and sure, sis I, his honour must go to the
great wake."
" Whose wake is it, Owen ?"
" It's the wake of a great farmer, your honour,
and he fell down the other day."
" Fell down !"
" Faith he did, and died outright. His widow
is making a wake for him that would do honour to
the country, and has sent to beg your honour to be
one of the howlers."
" But how can I assist ? I never knew the de
ceased, nor the way to lament."
" Oh, it's no lament, any way. Your honour
will be sure to be plased there."

THE WAKE. 259
Owen's importunities were not to be overcome ;
and, as it was quite clear that nothing was to be
done without the assistance of my crew, I promised
to accompany my fidus Achates to the scene of
mourning. We had to walk three or four miles up the
mountain, a task I did not perform with the same
ease as my attendants; and I really began to
estimate, at the full value, the opportunity about
to be afforded us of refreshing our griefs. On our
approach to the door of the deceased farmer, a
lamentation burst forth that at once showed the
fact that our arrival was the appointed signal for
the ebullition. The widow, with dishevelled hair,
was at the foot of the bedstead which sustained
the coffin, her head buried in her hands, which
were only occasionally raised to beat her breast,
which was nearly bare, and thump the coffin.
Such demonstration of violence in grief was really
painful, but remonstrance was in vain. The by
standers took no notice whatever of the hard
thumps she inflicted on her bosom ; her face,
which one occasionally caught a glimpse of, was
heated with her exertions in screaming — every one
joined — indeed, before my little band had entered
the house, they had commenced with all energy,
and entered howling. The din was distracting —
as, in every variety of tone, men, women, and

260 THE WAKE.
children, all seemed determined to show their
affection for the deceased by the goodness of tlieir
own lungs.
The first impression made on the mind by the
Irish howl is really a painful one. The tone of
lamentation, so prolonged and loud, conveys the
feeling of a sudden and irremediable grief; but,
as my ear became accustomed to the sound, I ven
tured to look into the faces of the most sonorous
of the party — there was almost an instant re
vulsion to the ridiculous. Not an expression of
seriousness even seemed to accompany the howl —
the muscles of the face were all perfectly quiescent;
and so great was the philosophic bearing of some
of the ladies of the party, that I perceived they
were examining and altering some parts of their
dress, but in no degree relaxing in their stentorian
efforts. One was deliberately putting on her
stockings, which had been, as usual, carried with
her shoes, not worn while walking to the scene of
grief, and were to be put on only for effect on her
arrival. Another was arranging the stray bands
over her forehead ; while here and there, amid the
party, might be observed a steady and ragged old
gentleman, who would suspend operations for a
few whiffs at a short black pipe, and then recom
mence as a giant refreshed.
While the din was at its height, a person, obr

THE WAKE. 261
viously of some importance, stalked into the room
— there was an instant cessation of the howl.
Every one for himself the widow arose and calmly
headed the party, now consisting of at least forty,
and led the way to the large kitchen. There were
pipes, porter, whiskey, and a blazing fire. It was
amusing to see Owen, who had howled as effec
tively as the best, entreating the ladies to suffer
him to assist them to whiskey, and performing all
the little offices of attention with an air that soon
constituted him a favourite. Of course he took
care of me, and I was soon seated with a long
pipe and a tumbler of whiskey-punch, in the best
chair the kitchen presented. The conversation,
Which now became general, was translated to me
by Owen, but did not at all refer to the solemn
cause of the meeting. I learned, however, that the
deceased had been one of the numerous victims of
the "good folk;" that is, had been bewitched by
some fairy. No greater or more satisfactory proof
of the fact could exist than in the circumstance of
his having been, previously to his death, utterly
incapable of swallowing a glass of whiskey — an
operation he had never for many years omitted.
The man had really died of jaundice; I doubt not,
indeed, by intemperance ; but which, had it been
subjected to medical treatment, would not, in all
probability, have proved fatal. The impression,

262 A FAIRY TALE.
however, that he had been " banned " by the
" good folk " was irremoveable.
" Is it the good people ?" exclaimed the steady
old man, who now intermitted his whiffs and burst
into tolerable English ; " and if it was night, now,
I'd tell the story of 'em."
This appeared to give proof of determination
enough. These terrible good people are powerless,
it seems, in the daylight.
" Wasn't it myself escaped by a wondrous
miracle ?"
" To be sure and it was yourself, any way,"
reiterated numerous voices.
" It was night, and I slept alone by myself, only
the childer and the pigs, when what should I hear
but a knocking that would have aroused the dead.
' Oh, oh ! ' sis I, l the whiteboys are up and doing, and
it's meself will see the fun, any way ;' so with that I
got on my clothes, and looks cautiously through the
door-cranks. The moon was bright — the divil a
whiteboy there. Knock ! knock ! again at the door.
* Hollo there !' sis I, courageously, seeing there was
nobody there, and open I throws the door. There
were rows of little people all dressed in fine scarlet
cloaks, and mounted upon small chargers, for all the
world as complate as a regiment of foot, with
drawn swords no bigger than a needle. ' Come on,'
sid they, ' to the wood, Paddy Brady ;' * and that's

A FAIRY TALE. 263
meself,' sis I, 'and here's for you.' Off went the
elves at full gallop, and faith it took my best
strides to keep up with 'em. Over rocks and bogs
we went — never a sink for horse or foot tiU we
halted on the ridge of a lake. There was a dead
silence, and I wondered what next was to come ;
when a small fairy, with a long flowing red mantle,
spoke to me. ' Paddy Brady,' sis he, ' if you are
secret, you'll come to no harm.' — ' Faith, and I'll be
that same,' sis I. — ' Look down on the lake,' sis he.
Oh, the wonderful sight ! — the bottom of the lake,
clear as day, was covered with skeletons of men,
all alive and kicking. ' It's the skeletons of the
race that spoke of the good people,' sis he ; ' and
beware, Paddy Brady !' Hereupon begun a dance,
the likes of which one wouldn't aisily see again,
though Murphy, the dancing-master and piper,
should try his hardest. All at once a stop : — and
the little man with the red cloak again comes up
to me. ' Read,' sis he, ' that paper.' — ' Faith and
I can't,' sis I. — 'Tim Murdock's wife,' sis he. — ' Tim
Murdock's wife,' sis they all, and feU to dancing
again. The little man agin ordered the stop, and
cried out, ' A cooleen !' — ' A cooleen ! a cooleen !'
cries all the band.
" There stuck I, wondering what the divil was
the maning of all this — my knees began to totter
as I looked into the lake again — there were all the

264 A FAIRY TALE.
skeletons, dancing as the elves danced, and doing
in imitation aU that they did.
" Oh, fear came upon me thin — my hair bristled
up till it forced the hat off my head. ' What for
is this?' sis I. — 'Silence,' sis he; 'you'r hearing
the names of the banned' — ' Oh hone !' sis I ;
c I'll be after telling them,' sis I, unawares like.
Crash went the rock — in went the moon — down
tumbled I from crag to crag, an endless fall, till,
after travelling in this disagreeable manner, crack
ing my ribs against rocks as I rolled, slush into
the lake I fell— 'twas there that Terry O'Rourke
found me — and sure, haven't I the marks of the
wounds I got in my fall?"
All signified perfect conviction in the truth of
the events related by the ragged old gentleman,
who resumed his pipe with a consciousness of
dignity that greatly tried my ability to restrain
laughter. " Our life is twofold, sleep hath its own world."
The truth is, that Paddy Brady had doubtlessly
got very drunk and had fallen down in his road
homeward. Paddy # rady had dreamed the rest,
and had recounted the story till he almost himself
believed in the reality.
The whiskey and porther had now progressed,
and perhaps would have proceeded much further,
but that a sudden och hone from the adjoining

THE WAKE. 265
room denoted the recommencement of the orgies.
Down went the glasses and pipes. " Och hone, och
hone," joined all, and in two minutes all were
again around the corse of the departed. At every
cessation there was the same recourse to whiskey
and pipes — the same fairy stories were told, only
with less perspicuity ; and it was one o'clock when,
accompanied by Owen, I left the company, to fight
out the remainder of the night, (an exercise they
had already begun) or to sleep off the effects of
their inebriety.
Such was the Irish wake ! the original institution
was, perhaps, intended to have been expressive
of grief and condolence. It is as much a custom
with the mountaineers, and fraught with as little real
feeling as the attendance of mutes at an EngUsh
funeral. I must not, however, do these poor
people the injustice of allowing it to be inferred
that they are wanting in attachment to each other,
or in sorrow for their bereavement; they are re
markable for both ; but the custom of congregating
their friends on the occasion of a death is one, by
me at least,
" More honoured in the breach than in th' observance."

VOL. I. N

266 THE SHANNON.

CHAPTER XVII.
To the Shannon — Mountain Scenery — Profusion of Wild-Fowl
and Hares — Listowe! — Extempore Dinner — Cheap Travelling
— Excellent Sport — Primitive Cooking — Mill Street — Extra
ordinary Cheapness of Living — Extreme Wretchedness of the
Inhabitants — First View of the Queen of Irish Rivers, the
Shannon. The time had now arrived when I had pro
posed to try the celebrated Shannon, the Queen of
Rivers. Discharging, therefore, my little crew,
(and, I confess, with extreme regret, as they had,
by their unflinching industry, hardihood, and ge
neral temperance, greatly attached me to them,
and contributed in a high degree to my amusement
while lingering in the peaceful Kerry) I set out,
accompanied by Owen, but to what point I should
direct my wanderings I had not determined, leaving
much to chance. The convenience of my pony
carriage assisted my views of stopping wheresoever
the scenery amused or the rivers gave intimation of
sport.

LISTOWEL. 267
After leaving Tralee, we traversed the base of
the Stacks and Glanruddery mountains ; immense
ranges, which seemed to guard the island from the
encroachments of the wide and ccerulean Atlantic,
over which, from the road, were presented splendid
views. The immense concourse of wild fowl, which
here seem wholly unmolested, would perhaps have
seduced a more devoted shot from his way; but
I pressed on, only carrying my gun as we ascended
the precipitous hills on foot. I found no difficulty
in killing a few hares; plentiful, indeed, throughout
Kerry, and of so little value that the extreme price
is sixpence at any time. I found also immense
flights of cormorants, wild geese, and swans, which
evidently have, time immemorial, bred in these un-
traversed mountains. I could get no opportunity
of securing any of them.
On our arrival at Listowel, I was resolved to
spend at least one day in traversing the river,
which passes through the town and falls into the
sea at Mill Street. With this view we slept at Lis
towel. The appearance of the town is in the highest
degree wretched, presenting all the worsb features
of the Kerry villages. Civilization has yet made
no stride towards the skirts of the mighty Atlantic,
for here nakedness among children seemed the
prevailing fashion,
N 2

268 RIVER FISHING.
We had traversed with great difficulty the banks
of the Feale without any chance of rest or refresh
ment, until we arrived at a few huts, dignified by
the title Innsmore, which boasted only of a " public,"
of the poorest order. We were heartily wearied,
as the banks were boggy and rocky alternately,
the former compelling us sometimes to go a mile
round before we could, with any safety, rejoin the
river. The result of our labours amounted only to a few
trout, and those not of the best order. However,
a selection of the largest among them soon fur
nished a tolerable dinner. It consisted of excellent
potatoes, whiskey and water (which we had brought
with us, uncertain that we could be supplied on
the road), boiled and baked trout. The cost of
our banquet was sixpence for potatoes, oatmeal,
bread, and cooking, and a good turf-fire.
From Innsmore we pushed forward to the point
about two miles from the village, where the Feale
receives the river Gale, a shallow but rapid river,
from the mountains. Notwithstanding the ob
jections of Owen, I was determined to give this
fall a fair trial. At a distance of some yards from
the spot we lighted a good fire, which may be
almost everywhere among the rocks easily accom
plished by the abundant supply of dry weeds and
bog -wood, which the overflowing streams have

THE DESERT DINNER. 259
lodged in the clefts. This arrangement first made,
I prepared two rods, fitted with strong tackle, as
the appearance of the water, the deep lodges
which here and there terminated the streams, gave
good token of a salmon. On endeavouring to
decide on the depth, I was somewhat surprised to
find my reel nearly naked of line. I am disposed
to believe that it was above thirty yards deep.
We had no success with the salmon- roe, while
Owen, pursuing the river, was busy with the small
brown trout, which had doubtless belonged to the
smaller river, and had come down from the moun
tains. They were worthless, as, indeed, are most
ofthe mountain trout. At length, a tug at the end
of my rod indicated the presence of some stronger
antagonist. I called to Owen for his gaff, and
began to reel up my prize. The first spring from
the surface showed that we had a chance of a " good
cooking, any way," as Owen expressed it; and,
after a labour of some minutes, our prey was duly
crimped and supported across the turf- fire by
three triangular sticks, which presented a dish fit
for a noble's banquet.
Perhaps I am travelling out of the record in
saying a dish — if it constituted one, it was of easy
manufacture, being nothing more than a large flat
stone from the shallows of the river, polished by
many an age of flood. Owen baked the potatoes,

270 MILL STREET.
and my small wallet furnished the few condiments
our desert journey rendered desirable.
While we were busily engaged in performing
the last offices for the defunct salmon, I was again
called to the relief of my second rod; it was a
salmon again. I had in this pool three runs, and
killed three fish ; two of which, being about eight
pounds each, we carried to MiU Street.
I had disdained to attempt the trout of this
river ; and, therefore, fished no part but the hole
where the two streams meet. I do not doubt, how
ever, but that this spot, after floods especially, would
furnish almost continual sport through the year.
The rivers in this neighbourhood appear to have
remained untouched. The fishermen of Mill Street
being all seamen, and the splendid supply which
in fine weather they can command in the mouth
of the Shannon, supersedes all attention to the
minor rivers.
Mill Street is beautifully situated at the termi
nation of the Feale, bounded on one side by a high
range of mountains. There is, also, a small stream,
which runs by the town, abounding in small trout
from the sea, taken, not unfrequently, after floods,
by the hand in the shallows.
Less, perhaps, is known of the inhabitants of this
part of Ireland than of any other. The intercourse
with any large town is confined to such communi-

ITS POVERTY. 271
cation as necessarily springs from the supply they
receive of such articles as are required for the
ordinary wants of life. There is not even a road
by which the produce of the sea, their chief wealth,
can be conveyed to any considerable distance.
The consequence is, that every article which is of
native production is sold at ruinously low prices.
I saw a pig hanging from one of the cottages —
killed to pay rent. It weighed eighty pounds,
and was offered to me at six shillings. Of course
the luxuries of life — that is to say, tea, sugar, and
clothing — are in the same ratio, dear.
The miserable state of poverty in which the
inhabitants pass their lives is almost indescribable;
and if one had not beheld destitution even more
destitute in the larger towns of Ireland, from a
view of Mill Street, the traveller would be induced
to say, " Surely life can not be less life than here."
It was at four o'clock on the first dawn of a
glorious summer morning that, on ascending a hill
out of the town of Listowel, on the road to Tar-
bert, that the wide expanse and magnificent waters
ofthe justly celebrated Shannon burst on my view.
The green surface of the land on either side, which
now bore the appearance of a velvet carpet spread
over the beauteous face of the soil, was reflected
in the dark and silent stream with a brilliancy that
no glass could imitate. Every object, however

272 THE SHANNON.
minute, was faithfully portrayed in the Narcissian
mirror. And this is the Shannon, whose course divides
almost into natural provinces the vast regions
through which its waters glide — the Shannon —
Nature's canal — formed to convey to and from the
inhabitants of a proUfic land their manufactures
and productions.
In the lower part of the river, however, there is
little hope for the sportsman; the body of the
stream is too large for the angler; with the ex
ception, therefore, of the tributaries which fall
into the Shannon, which, with no great success,
I en passant tried, the sportsman would be ill em
ployed who would follow this stream.
Packing up, therefore, our apparatus, we deter
mined, without loss of time, to push forward for
Athlone — the embouchure of Lough Ree, of which
station report had highly raised our expectations.

ATHLONE.

273

ATHLONE BRIDGE.

CHAPTER XVHI.

Athlone — Ballinasloe Fair — Onions and Eels — Athlone Bridge —
Lough Ree — The Shannon — Splendid Tract of Country —
Suitable Harbour for Shipping — National Benefit of Railroads,
if made a Government Speculation.

Athlone, however, bears more marks of civili
zation; it has a tolerable street; women occasionally
wear stockings and shoes, and some of the children
are clothed. I found it impossible to obtain
lodgings, from the crowded state of the town, this
being the Ballinasloe fair — perhaps the largest
cattle fair in England or Ireland. The inns make
n5

274 EELS.
this their harvest ; and the reader will be surprised
to hear that ten shillings and sixpence per night,
for a miserable bedroom, was demanded at the
meanest of them. As, however, my purpose was
not to deal in cattle, I sent Owen to the little
" public" situated on the mouth ofthe lake. Hav
ing made some arrangements, he returned to me,
horror-stricken at some sights which had not very
favourably impressed him with the population.
" It's impossible they should be rale Irishers.
t's enough to condemn them all — eels, snakes as
long as my arm, onions stuck in their mouths — and
they offer to cook them, and give 'em as food."
I found Owen was right ; there were, indeed, eels
— and in such abundance, exposed at every shop,
whiskey-hovel, or lodging window — eels of three,
four, or five pounds, which would seem to imply
that they constituted the chief food of the people.
This turned out to be the fact. These animals
descend the Shannon in such multitudes, that, in
the autumn, after the flood, the rapids and falls in
the narrower parts of the river need only be crossed
by a purse net, and tons weight of eels are fre
quently taken in one night. Although, throughout
Kerry, I could never prevail on the people to cook,
much less to eat them — at Athlone, if one may
judge from the abundant display, they are in the
highest repute.

SHANNON TROUT. 275
We now took possession of our Uttle apartment
on the borders of the celebrated Lough Ree.
The first thing that aroused my surprise at
Athlone was the continued exposure for sale of
trout of eight, ten, or fifteen pounds each, which
seemed to excite no admiration among the people.
I believe the Shannon produces the largest in the
world ; and, though difficult to capture, yet success
in one instance amply repays days of disappoint
ment. I was almost angry at the sight of such
splendid creatures, sold for the merest trifle, and
apparently regarded with less respect than the eels
which satiated the town.
At the old town bridge there will be found a
considerable fall in the river, which afterwards joins
the main body of the stream below Athlone, con
stituting a little vortex. After having procured a
boat, I first cast my line on this spot. Owen's
labour and my own were without effect. Not a
rise — not an appearance of a fish. We floated
down the stream two or three miles, still accom
panied by disappointment ; nor was it till the even
ing began to set in, that we returned to the spot
from whence we had first started. I now changed
my tackle for the salmon-roe, and, having well
loaded my hook, sent it off to seek its fortune in
the whirlpool. The difficulty I found in fishing
this spot was the extreme depth, at least forty feet ;

276 SHANNON TROUT.
and, unless the roe was well put on, and wholly
covered the hook, I found, before it had reached the
bottom, the latter was frequently bare. As soon as
I had corrected this error and effectually com
manded the bottom, success followed. A tug, that
nearly took rod and all from my hand, aroused, my
hopes of the new bait — new, indeed, to these fish,
among which it had never been tried.
" Huzza ! " exclaimed Owen, in an ecstasy ;
" here's the Shannon trout, any way ; and it's your
honour's the only man can catch 'em." But, alas !
I could not hold them ; fish after fish broke away,
and, after an evening's hard work, we found our
selves only masters of five fish, from three to seven
pounds each.
The day is unfavourable to Shannon fishing.
Like other large animals of prey, their motion is
too slow to enable them to catch the smallest fish
in full light ; twilight, therefore, is the time of their
hunting, and should be that of the fisherman's in
all these rivers and lakes. Having returned to our
little inn, I requested permission to accompany two
of the Lough Ree fishermen, who Uved in cottages
close by our little hotel, and who principally sup
plied the inns and inhabitants of the town with
fish. In this I had little difficulty ; and, making
preparations, therefore, for a night out, and not
forgetting those essential portions of such arrange-

THE NIGHT OUT. 277
ments, whiskey and tobacco, we set forth with
muffled oars. The navigation of Lough Ree
is dangerous in the extreme. My crew luckily
knew every turn ; and, as they prepared their
long lines, I and Owen were busy with our flies.
The success with the lake trout was trifling, not
one having been captured of more than a pound
weight. The process of shooting the long lines was now
begun. At every yard was a hook of the size of
the whiting hook, and about two inches of a tole
rably-sized eel, well twisted on each hook. I did
not anticipate that such a bait would be effective
for trout.
The number of hooks was two hundred, and the
line was cast, or, as the boatmen say, shot, just as
has been previously described. The result, at day
light, was twenty-two trout, varying from three to
five pounds, several large eels, and two very large
pike. The amusement was not exciting, and,
though we endeavoured to keep up the hilarity of
the evening by Owen's songs and our boatmen's
stories of their English wanderings, it must be con
fessed that fishing on Lough Ree is, to use the
current expression, " slow."
There is a change of character worthy of remark
as we approach the more northern part of Ireland ;
Owen's disgust had manifestly assumed a more in-

278 ATHLONE BOYS.
tense feeling, as he besought me not to remain on
the Shannon ; the inhabitants, he assured me, were
heartless and cruel; that they had lamed every
kind of cheating ; and that, for himself, he could
have no chance whatever with them; even the
boatmen expressed extreme dissatisfaction on
Owen's presenting them, for their midnight com
pany, three shillings, a sum that would exceed the
produce of many a night's toil. I was not long in
discovering the true cause of these peculiarities, for
so I must term them, in the Athlone and Shannon
" boys." At Athlone there has been long esta
blished a barracks, and it is now held as a station
for several regiments. The officers have, in some
measure, imitated the Killarney visiters; and I
took leave of Lough Ree without regret, and aban
doned all the joys of onions and eels for the better
fare of Galway salmon.
The Shannon is, indeed, the queen of rivers ;
navigable for nearly two hundred and thirty miles
through the interior of the richest tract of country
in the world ; abundant in every production that a
river should present to the angler ; but the sailing
on the loughs is dangerous, and the river itself too
rapid. Although, on all the loughs, vessels, or
rather yachts of all kinds may be observed, Uke
beautiful phantom ships, gliding over the dark
waters of the endless lakes ; yet the continual oc-

THE LOUGHS. 279
currence of hidden rocks, and those just emerging
from the surface, renders the utmost skill of the
pilot necessary ; nor, indeed, without his assistance,
should any one venture on the water. It were safer
sailing on the wide Atlantic.
Upon the whole, I do not think the fishing of
the Shannon agreeable. I say little of it, indeed,
on that account ; it is a style too much resembUng
sea-fishing ; it must be long line sport or none, as
the fly may in general as well be cast on the broad
sea-shore as on these inland oceans. The river
presents no better sport ; a week's trial convinced
me that nothing but the baited line at night, or the
sweeping and execrable net, can be rendered avail
able. I did not, however, try the tributary streams,
where, I do not doubt, in the spring and autumn,
great sport might be found ; as, at those periods,
the best fish are found in the shallowest rivers.
It must, however, be remembered that nothing but
the salmon-roe or the minnow will at those seasons
succeed ; with these the natives are wholly unac
quainted, relying on the more wholesale methods of
netting or night-lining.
In speaking of the splendid tract of country
through which the Shannon flows, it is impossible
to refrain from expressing deep regret that so little
has been done to secure the advantages which ought
to have been derived to Ireland. Nature, indeed,

280 RAILROADS.
seems to have pointed out this tract as the har
bour for shipping, commanding the whole con
tinent of America by a direct and safe passage.
If to the lower harbour, formed by this splendid
river, could be cut a railroad, either from Dublin
or Cork, Ireland would at once become a new
country, and commercial prosperity would begin
to relieve the oppression of a now too abundant
population. Great has been the misfortune to the people of
England that it has been, for ten years past, go
verned by parties too weak to undertake any na
tional improvement. There was a moment which,
had it been seized by a powerful administration,
would have relieved England from many embar
rassments, without inflicting injury on any class.
If the railroads had been undertaken by the go
vernment, and the government alone, a great por
tion of the interest of the national debt would have
been paid from the profits — profits which, to the
government, would have been treble those of the .
companies which have been suffered to undertake
them, authorized by acts of parliament, which
render their constitution one of the most grievous
monopolies. Wherever a monopoly must exist, it
is important that it should be a monopoly of the
state ; over such monopolies the public have direct
control, through the medium of their represen-

RAILROADS. 281
tatives, and no abuse could be long suffered to
remain. As it is, a system of jobbing and patron
age, adopted in all the committees of railroads, has
rendered the price of travelling to the public higher
than ever, and without a remedy against any abuse.
It is a mere commercial, instead of a national un
dertaking ; and the loss of life, which negligence
may occasion in its conduct, is cooly calculated at
so much per cent.
Had a strong government existed at the time
railroads were projected, that government would
have boldly made them a monopoly for the good of
the public generally. The construction would have
been relieved of three-fourths of the expence ; all
law charges would have been avoided ; the govern
ment engineers would have been appointed ; and,
above all, the thousands of able-bodied convicts,
who are now, at an enormous public expense, sent
to waste their strength on a desert island, might
have been fully employed in the lowest description
of the labour, and thus made to effectuate an atone
ment to the community whose laws they had
violated. The diminution, therefore, of the expense
of constructing railroads by the government would
have been a boon to the public, who must have reaped
the advantage in lower rates of charges ; and who
would have thus, by an indirect, and, therefore,

282 RAILROADS.
almost imperceptible taxation, have supplied the
national revenue.
The loss of this opportunity was a blunder which
the public have greatly to deplore; it is to be
deplored in the high rate of charge to which they
are compelled now to submit ; in the thereby in
creased value of money, which now threatens the
restriction of all commercial operations, and in the
total absence of all voice in the arrangement and
control of a monstrous monopoly, to which aU must
ultimately bow.
It is not too late to retrieve this error in re
ference to Ireland ; it is not too late for the
government to give employment to a starving
population, or to lay the foundation of a future
prosperity in this neglected land, which wiU ulti
mately not only firmly establish peace and content,
but become a source of great profit to the United
Kingdom. Nothing can be more contrary to truth than
any calculation made upon returns of present
mercantile transactions; with the means, com
merce would be created ; one unbroken high road
would exist from the metropolis of England to
the extreme point of embarkation to the southern
world ; and, with that facility, transactions of
greater amount would arise, and communication
would be more frequent. With the opportunity

RAILROADS. 283
of exportation, manufactories would be established,
and the banks of the beauteous streams of Ire
land would no longer present the desolate neglect
which has occasioned her degraded position among
advancing nations.

284

GALWAY.

GALWAY.

CHAPTER XIX.

Galway— Mr. Keogh — Fishing in Lough Corrib — First Failure
ofthe Infallible Bait — Its Causes — A New Acquaintance — The
Monastery — Clnddagh — Its Antiquity — Forms of Marriage —
Dress ofthe Females — Respect paid to the Dead— Prevalence
of the Cholera — Benevolence of the Rev. Father Fay — Protes
tants and Catholics — History of James Lynch Fitz Stephen,
the Mayor of Galway.

Having left the valley of the Shannon, the
country again assumes the barren and uncultivated
garb; masses of rocks, with scarcely a spot of
verdure, arising abruptly from amidst the deep
green plains of bog, over which, as the coach roUed
on, might be observed, for hundreds of yards, a
succession of undulations that carried somewhat of

GALWAY. 285
fear to the inexperienced traveller, lest the road,
the only firm spot over the boundless morass, should
at any part give way and entomb the voyagers.
The entrance to Galway, however, gave back all
the beauties of land and ocean ; at one burst from
a hill the broad Atlantic presents herself, covered
with white dots, the boats of the Galway fishermen ;
and the white smoke, extending along the shore of
the creek, indicates the approach to what is still a
large and considerable city ; but what, alas ! was
once the capital of Western Ireland.
I cannot easily describe the sensation of pleasure
I experienced in my first walk through Galway, a
spot to which my highest hopes of success in angling
had been directed ; the town, through which a
salmon river still runs, and in which the silvery
tenants had not, through a succession of ages, de
creased . Taking my stand on the venerable bridge,
through which the trembling waters of Lough
Corrib, a lake of sixty miles extent, fall into the
bay, I gazed stedfastly on the transparent stream ;
masses of black, here and there, covered the bottom,
forming the appearance of seaweed, gently moved
by the course of the waters, till occasionally by a
silvery flash, here and there, was seen the delicate
white ofthe salmon ; those masses were constituted
of fresh- run fish, congregated in preparation for
their annual voyage to the vast lake.

286 THE WALL FISHING.
Having marked the spots where they were thus
clusteringly placed, I betook myself to the inn, soon
unpacked my tackle, and, presenting myself at the
gate of Mr. Keogh, the liberal renter of the river,
requested his permission to try my fortune. This
was promptly given, and in a few minutes I was on
the wall which divides the stream from the weirs.
Mr. Keogh accompanied me, but did not give me
hope of success. A short time convinced me that
his knowledge of the habits of the Lough Corrib
salmon exceeded mine ; not a rise to the most at
tractive fly I could present cheered my expectations ;
and, after two hours' hard labour, during which I
had cast over the very heads of some thousand
salmon, I retired in disappointment.
This was not to be borne, and I immediately
sought the acquaintance of a gentleman, to whom
Mr. Keogh recommended me, as a thorough fisher
man. I record what I consider my good luck, be
cause it may be serviceable to any sportsman who
may follow in my track. With that gentleman, at
a very moderate price, I immediately domiciled ;
having, for twelve shillings per week, an excellent
furnished drawing-room and two bedrooms, with
all necessary attendance. I lost no time in making
my permanent arrangements for a sojourn in so in
teresting a town.
I now learned that the only chance of success on

GALWAY SALMON. 287
the river was at the dawn of day. At that time
the fish, unscared by the continual view of objects
moving over the bridge, were on the feed; but
that, in fine weather, any attempt during the day
was fruitless. Furnishing ourselves, therefore,
with a gaudy fly, such as fresh-run fish are most
likely to be attracted by, before daylight in the
morning my host was with me.
Early as we were on the scene of action, we had,
nevertheless, been anticipated. Two anglers were
there, and had well thrashed the stream before us.
My companion introduced me to one, the Rev. Mr.
F., who expressed his regret that he had not known
my intention to visit the river, as he would un
doubtedly have left it for my amusement. This
was so kindly said that I was immediately pre
possessed with my new acquaintance, and requested
his company to breakfast. In accepting my invite
he pointed to a fine salmon of nine pounds weight,
which he had just landed, as an addition to our
commissariat. It was necessary to aUow the river some quiet
before the fly was again cast, and, changing our
tackle, we threw for white trout at a spot higher
up than the salmon lodges. Success quickly
followed here ; but with the humbler species of the
salmon I was dissatisfied ; the nobler game had al
ready possessed me, and I longed to try my chance

288 THE MONASTERIES.
with the roe. Candour obliges me to record that
in this river, for the first time in Ireland, I was
foiled ; for, although I was convinced I so managed
to present the bait that it must have passed the
noses of the fish, not one noticed it.
The cause of this I at length discovered; in this
river the fish do not spawn ; they proceed through
the lough to the mountain streams, and, being fresh-
run from the sea, they have scarcely recovered
from the violent transition from which they neces
sarily suffer. The truth of this opinion was well
established by my subsequent success in the tribu
taries to the lake ; in those, the roe was the most
effectual bait for the salmon.
On resuming the fly, however, I was successful,
and my companion not less so. In twenty minutes
we had landed two fine fish, which I was assured
and found was the extent of the sport we should
meet ; as the river, once fished down, was generaUy
no further productive for the day.
On my return to breakfast, I had the pleasure to
find that my new acquaintance, the priest, was my
opposite neighbour ; being the head of the monas
tery, a plain, though extensive building, situated
on the banks ofthe river. The establishment con
sisted of twelve monks, and himself the prior.
Their incomes arise from bequests, and were about
fifty pounds per annum each. They all had sepa-

THE MONASTERIES. 289
rate apartments, a common hall for dining, the
means of which were amply supplied by the pre
sents of the laity.
There was, indeed, abundance— but an abundance
well directed — at a certain hour, daily, might be
seen the aged, the destitute and diseased, knock
ing at the door of the monastery, and each receiving
a portion, from the hands of the priest himself, of
that which charity had supplied.
We are greatly misled in estimating these insti
tutions. The services ofthe monks are, like those
of the priests, services of hardship ; nor is it un
common for them to be absent among the moun
taineers for days, visiting and consoling the afflicted
and the dying. In this country, also, where no
regulated provision for the poor exists, they form
the authority for the judicious direction of charity ;
while themselves, independent of the world, and
having no claims on their assistance but those of
duty, are free to bestow all that is not necessary to
the sustaining their institution.
The prior had, as was the case with the rest,
been educated at Rome. Seven years had he
passed within the walls of a monastery, wholly de
voting his labours to literature of all kinds. I
need not say that he was highly learned ; for, in
addition to that ordinary education which a college
affords, he had traversed the whole Christian world.
VOL. I. O

290 THE CLADDAGH.
I shall not easily forget the happiness I derived
from his society, nor be ungrateful for the advan
tage it afforded.
Perhaps one of the most interesting features of
Galway is the fishing village called Claddagh. The
name signifies in Irish the sea- shore, on which it is
situated. It is irregularly built, and intersected by
several narrow lanes, and contains about four thou
sand inhabitants, who are exclusively employed in
the bay fishing. It has, like every part of this
curious town, strong characteristics of antiquity,
and by some is assumed to have been the original
site ofthe earliest settlers' first habitations. It con
stitutes a perfect colony; and has, time immemorial,
been ruled by one of their own body, periodically
elected ; he is dignified by the title of mayor, and,
though a ragged representative of the municipal
power, satisfactorily settles aU disputes, and pro
pounds laws by which the whole population are
governed. To him are all disputes referred, civil
as well as criminal; and by him are they generally
decided, without any apparent disobedience to his
decree. It appears they still remain exempt from
all government taxes, have no party feeling, and
never interfere with politics. In short, so perfect a
specimen of the imperium in imperio will nowhere
else be found.
The forms of marriage, among these singular
people, are worthy of notice ; they have no connec-

THE CLADDAGH. 291
tion with the townspeople, to whom they appear to
entertain a decided dislike, and their own mar
riages generally take place at a very early age :
fifteen being the usual time that is recognized for
the man. Having made his choice, the young
couple elope, and, having been two or three days
absent, return, are pardoned, assigned a dwelling
and commence as independent members of the com
munity. It is remarkable that infidelity is unknown
among them ; nor, from all I could gain from my in
telligent informant, the priest, could I understand
that jealousy was ever known to exist. The for7
tune of the wife is the share in a boat.
The dress of the females, as among those of the
inhabitants of Galway and Connemara, still retains
the characteristic of their Spanish origin— the blue
mantle, and red body gown, petticoat of the same
colour, and a blue or red cotton handkerchief bound
round the head. Sometimes the gaudy ribbon may
be observed, but the regulation among the Claddagh
people is strict, that none shall be allowed the use
of this ornament who cannot speak English. There
is no difficulty in selecting the lady one would
address, though I should by no means advise any
brother sportsmen to cultivate any particular ad
miration of the Claddagh damsels ; the conse
quences might be more direct than those of damages
in an action duly recovered.
02

292 THE CATHOLICS.
The respect shown to the departed friend is
manifested in an especial manner, by adjournment
to the whiskey-shop ; and the measure of grief is
ordinarily established by that ofthe inspiring liquor
served out to the survivors. The lamentations con
tinue the whole of the night, which is consumed in
carousal with the party attending the funeral. It
has been observed that this peculiarity seems to
connect these people with the Arabs, whose pecuUar
constitution it is to rejoice at the death of their
friends. There can be no doubt that the Irish
wake ever has been and still is a festival ; whether
established for such an occasion by sound philo
sophy or not, is still a problem I am unable to
solve ; this, I think, is certain — life is not made for
happiness — death may be so.
It is to us laymen, who presume to understand
nothing of the matter, but who are happy enough
if we do all that we can in the fair and right way,
and can, as Izaak says, obtain health and strength
and leisure to go a-fishing — it is to us sometimes
amusing to listen to the opinions one set of
reverend priests express of priests of another class —
it is amusing to hear the Rev. Sidney Smith, the
mouthpiece of all that is liberal in the church, in
his bold and round manner, lay down this posi
tion : — " The Catholic faith is a misfortune to the world."

THE CATHOLICS. 293
Yet can no one step into the humble habitation
of the dying labourer in Ireland, whose life, as it
has been without comfort, so the loss of it is
attended with little to regret — yet whose sorrowing
relatives surround him in all the bitter anguish of
the parting hour — no one can step in and view the
consolations offered by the priest, consolations not
of forms, as too often are all the solaces of the
catholic faith supposed to consist of, and say the
" Catholic faith is a misfortune to the world." To
the protestant world, our reverend friend and mili
tant should have said ; and to the protestant world,
small as it is in Ireland, in particular.
But let us see how the catholic religion is a mis
fortune to the world.
In the summer of 1 832 the Claddagh was more
than any other spot in Ireland the resting-place of
the destructive and horrific cholera ; then might be
seen in one house the dying father laying out the
lifeless corses of the mother and her children ; the
physician, even the druggist doctor, had abandoned
the place ; and death in his most frightful form,
unchecked, held on his way of devastation. The
cholera was by no means exclusive, nor made it
any particular favourites, either with the protestant
or catholic — if one may be allowed to personify so
deep a blue, it may be well observed that the lady
swept all before her in Ireland ; and even the decenr

294 THE CATHOLICS.
cies of Ufe, which protected as it was thought the
rich in England, were here unavailing.
, Galway has its protestant church, and takes all
the tithes ; but the protestant clergyman, seeing
how useful his services at that moment might be
come elsewhere, bid adieu to Galway as the cholera
entered. Why should I hesitate to name the man
who has entitled himself to the love of all his
parishioners. It was the Rev. Father Fay, who,
so far from abandoning his post, he being at the
time in the cure of the fishermen's city, ordered a
room to be fitted for himself in the very midst of
destitution, that he might be at hand to administer
to the wants of the countless sick and dying. Here
was not only religious consolation, but also for
the exhausted and the fainting all the comforts
and restorations which the active priesthood had
accumulated from the general contributions of the
people. Nor were the inhabitants of the convent idle —
not a call was disobeyed — the habitations of
wretchedness, disease, and death, were alone en
tered by the priests ; their whole labour, and even
their slender means of support, were generously
devoted to the succour of the poor ; at the hour of
midnight would the wearied inmate of the convent
obey the summons, to traverse the mountains during
the descent of rains and floods, to give, as they

THE CATHOLICS. 295
thought then, and believe now, consolation to the
sick and wretched. From such communicants
could be obtained none of those enormocs fees
which excite the indignation of the protestant
clergy. No ! the fee, by which their exertions
through this terrible and destructive time were re
munerated, was the affection and confidence of their
flocks, which can never be removed.
Preach to the peasant the villany of Catholicism —
show him how vile a faith hefollows, and bid him
remember the conduct of the Irish priesthood
during the cholera, and recal that of a reverend
rector of  ! The result might possibly be
that the attentive listeners would, because it would
be very impolite to do otherwise, admit the propo
sition of the Rev. Sidney Smith, that " the Ca
tholic faith is a misfortune to the world," but he
might at the same time insinuate that it is useful
in times of. cholera !
I am no catholic, but I reverence the religion
which produces humane feelings and cherishes the
exercise of kindness of heart. What is it that
some — slight enough — distinctions are to be made,
in those nobody seems agreed — shall such a cause
take from the deserving labourer in the vineyard of
generous devotion all the honour which his sin
cerity and exertion challenge ! Protestant Eng
land—alien in blood, language, and religion —

296 THE CATHOLICS.
having seized for the propagation of her own
religion, which is not and cannot be that of the
people, all the funds originally intended for far
other and more useful purposes, would at length
strip the catholic priesthood of the influence which
their merits have created. It will be easy to curse
the power ofthe Irish priesthood ; but, to destroy it,
the same means must be used which have created it
among the people ; let me see the protestant cler
gyman vie in good deeds to his fellow-men with
the priest ; let me see the same absence of all per
sonal motive, of pride, of state ; let me see the same
conduct adopted, and the catholic power will be in
jeopardy — not till then.
The singular good fortune of the priesthood,
throughout the prevalence of the terrific scourge to
which I have referred, is worthy of record. I be
lieve not one fell a victim to the exercise of his
office and the discharge of his difficult duty. The
veneration now expressed by the populace must be
to them the proudest reward, and obviously exceeds
that vast amount of wealth which is delivered to
the tender mercies of the aliens in religion. Father
Fay, whose courage in casting his lot amid the
dying fishermen has been spoken of, may be found
in simple guise, with an unassuming and quiet de
meanour, peacefully casting his fly on the stream
that runs through Galway ; as ready with any in-

THE LYNCH. 297
formation he can afford a stranger who seeks it, as
he is in the performance of the high duties attached
to his office.
The scrupulous reverence which is paid to the
ancient habitation of the Lynch family, though now
occupied by meaner tenants, will, necessarily, ex
cite the inquiries of the stranger; nor shall I
deem any apology necessary for giving tiie whole
of the story with which it is connected. The
romance of history greatly exceeds that of ima
gination ; and, while the stern deeds of a Roman
Father have been for ages extolled, the still firmer
mayor of Galway has fallen into oblivion, and
nothing now remains but the skull and cross-
bones reverently preserved to indicate the spot
where the most terrible sacrifice of feeling to
justice was once made.
James Lynch Fitzstephen, an opulent merchant of
Galway, was elected mayor in 1493, at which time
a regular and friendly intercourse subsisted be
tween the town and the several parts of Spain.
This mayor, who from his youth had been distin
guished for his public spirit, had, from commercial
motives, on all occasions encouraged an intercourse
that proved so lucrative as well to his fellow-towns
men as to the Spaniards ; and, in order the more
firmly to establish the connection between them, he
himself went a voyage to Spain, and was received
¦ OS

298 THE MAYOR.
when at Cadiz at the house of a rich and respectable
merchant named Gomez, with the utmost hospitality
and with every mark of esteem suitable to his high
reputation, and to the liberality of his entertainer.
Upon his departure for his own country, wishing to
make some grateful return for the numerous civili
ties he had received from the Spaniard, he invited
his son, a yauth of nineteen, to accompany him to
Ireland, promising to take parental eare of him
during his stay. Young Gomez, who was the pride
of his parents, was rejoiced at this opportunity,
and seized with ardour the kind offer of his father's
friend. On their arrival at Galway, Lynch introduced the
young stranger to his family ; he was kindly re
ceived, and especially taken as a companion to the
son of his host, a young gentleman of great acquire
ments, and enjoying the general respect of his
fellow-townsmen. His popularity was so great,
indeed, that he might at any time have become the
leader of the Galway men, and could even have
commanded the affections of his choice among the
Galway ladies. There was, nevertheless, some dis
position to freedom in his attachments, which had
in some degree afflicted his father, who had ever
been remarkable for the purity of his life. The
latter had, however, conceived hopes of an entire
reformation in his son, from the discovery of the

THE MAYOR. 299
fact that he was deeply attached to a lady of great
personal beauty and accomplishments, the daughter
of his warmest friend.
Anxious as he was that the mayorality, an office
which had been thrust on him the year of his
return from Spain, an office of high importance and
dignity, inasmuch as he was invested with the full
powers of judge, both in civil and in criminal mat
ters, should be sustained with unsuUied honour,
the prospect of his son's succeeding him gave new
pleasure to his life.
The attachment of the young men was matter of
general observation ; they were seen together on all
occasions ; and, even in the visits to the beautiful
Agnes, they were seldom separated. At length the
English youth conceived a jealousy of his compa
nion's attentions. It was confirmed by ^watching,
from the house of the beautiful Agnes, him who
had been his nearest friend. It was night: the
streets were dark : his dagger was buried in the
bosom of the stranger, who, though wounded unto
death, staggered some distance towards the shore,
whither the relentless assassin pursued him, and
cast the now lifeless body into the sea.
On the coming morning the body had been cast
up by the tide, and the whole town was in con
sternation ; the mayor had been summoned — a dag
ger was found on the shore, red with the blood of

300 THE MAYOR.
its victim — one was only absent — it was he to
whom the dagger belonged — it was to the son ofthe
mayor, who sat in deliberation on the murder !
On the discovery of the criminal, he made no
denial of the deed, but avowed himself the mur
derer amidst the deepest exclamations of remorse
for the frenzied act. The disconsolate yet deter
mined parent consigned him to a prison ; public
disgrace awaited him, should he shrink from the
performance of his duty ; the violated laws of hos
pitality must have been vindicated. The rigid se
verity he had, during the discharge of his functions
as mayor, exercised towards an unhappy criminal
guilty of a similar act, shut out the possibility of
compromise, and sealed the fate of his son.
Once only in the annals of men had so terrible a
scene been witnessed ; and it was left for the up
right magistrate of a small town in the west of
Ireland to revive the glory or the horror of con
signing to death the son of his affections, as a
sacrifice to public justice.
On the promulgation of the inflexible sentence
of death the people became tumultuous and violent :
they surrounded the house of the heart- stricken
magistrate ; and, incensed by the belief that jus
tice was second to the feelings of nature, deter
mined on the rescue of their admired fellow-towns
man. Some suggestions were made, in order to

THE MAYOR. 301
pacify the people that mercy would be extended,
and that the actual execution of the son was not
contemplated by the father. This was effectual,
and prevented the outbreak, which had become
otherwise irrepressible. It was at midnight that
the stern father entered the cell of the criminal —
announced to him the certainty of his fate on the
coming morn, and banished from his mind all hope
of escape. The father wept and prayed by the side
of his prostrate son, who spoke no word : the
exhortations of the priest were without effect —
with hope had departed reason; still the father
watched, till the first ray of daylight warned him to
act. At that moment, looking into the vacant coun
tenance of his son, the heart gave way, and he fell
on the upreared body, overwhelmed by his feelings,
At length he arose, gave the necessary orders to
the guards, and, between the files of the soldiery,
who had formed a strong guard by the orders of
the mayor — the priest supporting one arm, and
the father the other — the subdued culprit was con
ducted to the place of execution. Who shall paint
the concluding scene ? — a frantic mother, heart
broken sisters, met him at the spot — the reproaches
of the frenzied parent were loud against the
sternness ofthe magistrate, but ineffectual.
Demonstrations, however, among the populace
arose ; shouts from the armed mob of relatives,

302 THE MAYOR.
whom the wife had excited to the rescue, surrounded
the place of execution : it was amidst the threats
of the crowded thousands that the mayor took his
son in his arms. " My boy," said he, " thou hast
only a few moments of life. God may pardon
thee ; I dare not. I may end my life with thine,
but cannot save it." And, before the multitude
could be aware of the intention, with his own hand
he placed the deadly cord round the neck of the
criminal, and launched him into eternity.
In the full expectation of instant death, from the
fury of the mob, the calm magistrate, with a
dauntless countenance, presented himself to their
threatened vengeance : they were stayed by his
determination — a sudden sentiment of awful admi
ration prevailed, and all peaceably retired. It was
his last public act. The father was never again
seen, but by the members of his secluded family.
'The house, which was the scene of this terrific
tragedy, stUl exists in Lombard Street, Galway;
and, though now tenanted by more humble citizens,
is still a spot regarded with reverence. Over the
window from which the unhappy culprit was sus
pended may still be seen the monument which was
erected to record the deed. A skull, carved in
stone, and cross-bones beneath, are all that remain
to mark the public virtue of the mayor of Galway.

LOUGH CORRIB. 303

CHAPTER XX.
Fishing in Lough Corrib — Enormous Trout — The Weirs-
Perch and Pike — Productiveness of the Weirs — Arrival of the
Major — Difficulty of getting a Fishing-Boat — Independence of
the Fishermen — Herring Fishery— The Mayor of the Claddagh
— The Prior — The Priesthood — Preparations for Sport.
On the second morning after my arrival at
Galway, I took care to be early on the wall. It is,
perhaps, hardly credible that, with dressing-gown
and slippers only, I daily stepped from my lodging,
crossed the bridge, and secured a salmon — some
times two, and, not unfrequently, white trout of a
good size. The latter are considered of little or
no value, but are, nevertheless, of most delicious
flavour. During one of the autumnal floodsj when these
fish run in shoals into the lake, I was surprised by
one of extraordinary magnitude. I had two flies
on my line, the dropper had been chosen, and, in
darting towards the bottom, a salmon took the
stretcher — I was close to the bridge — one fish took
one arch, downwards, and the other made a dif-

304 LOUGH CORRIB.
ferent choice, and, for several minutes, so stout was
the tackle, that the two fish were suspended be
tween the arches — a stream of immense volume
bearing on each.
My friend and host, seeing my difficulty, hastened
to my relief, and with one blow of the boat-hook,
which was close at hand, so stunned the salmon,
that, though by the concussion freed from the line,
he was easily taken by the landing-net ; the other,
being the stronger of the two, dashed down the
stream, and to him I abandoned my rod, which
easily passed through the arch to the dark pool
below. Having with some difficulty recovered it,
I now began a fair contest, and, in a short time,
succeeded in landing a white trout of sixteen
pounds. This size is not unusual, and, when they
are taken so large, exceed in value the best salmon ;
although, I believe, very few of this class of fish
are seen in London. Indeed, they seldom attain
such a size but in lakes of enormous magnitude,
such as Lough Corrib.
From the lake to the weirs there is a long, flat
river, in which the more contemplative and unam
bitious angler may find excellent sport, should he
be adept in perch fishing. I believe the whole of
the river, at least, wherever the waters form a still
pool, is crowded with perch, and, with a common
stick, and the coarsest tackle, hundreds may be

LOUGH CORRIB. 305
taken from one spot in a day. They are not, how
ever, esteemed, and the style of angling is below
the noble game the glorious lake and falling streams
should suggest. Pike are also taken with great
ease, either by trailing from a boat, or by the long
line, baited with eels. So abundant, however, is
the supply of sea-fish from the noble bay, that, when
taken by the few fishermen who frequent the lake,
they are considered valueless. Threepence is con
sidered a great price for a pike of ten pounds.
Really, this is mortifying. The English angler,
who, by a due application, has at length extracted
leave for a " day's fishing " in some dull ditch or
putrescent pond of an English landholder, exults
in having captured a pike or two; nor is there
any lack of broad direction on the basket he fills,
addressed to his nearest friend or most liberal
patron. The prize is spoken of as worthy of
record. Visit Lough Corrib, and fill your boat
daily, without the mortification of having asked a
favour from the selfish owners of the water whence
the supply comes. The broad expanse of Lough
Corrib — as are all the lakes of Ireland, with the
exception of those which are situated in the desert
of Ireland, Connemara — is open to all.
I must not, however, fail to notice that the river
leading from the Lough to the weirs presents ad
mirable sport throughout the summer and autumn,

306 THE BAY.
when the salmon are, as it is technically called,
running ; nor is it at all preserved. The fishery is
below, and at the weirs — all that escape the traps
are free game, while the salmon season lasts. So
productive are the weirs, that, I believe, the present
rental is from £300 to £400 per annum.
According to an engagement made with the
major, I deferred my sea-fishing till his arrival at
Galway, where we had appointed to meet for the
purpose of exploring the coast of Connemara. I
had written a full account of my success at the
weirs and on the lake, the relation of which so hur
ried his arrangements that I was surprised by his
presence some time before his promise.
His greeting was that of an old friend — ob
viously excited, nevertheless, by feelings of strong
jealousy — jealousy at the advance I had made
without his tuition and superintendence. My
friend, the prior, readily joined the evening party,
to which was added mine excellent host, whose
society was really an advantage, not included in
the small sum which had been fixed on as rent.
His knowledge of the locale was invaluable, and
I owed much of the enjoyment I experienced, in
my Galway visit, to his assistance and direction.
The difficulty of getting a fishing-boat was dis
cussed. We had already visited the Claddagh,
but, such was the independence of the fishermen,

THE CLADDAGH. 307
that there was no hope of obtaining, at any rea
sonable remuneration, assistance from them.
The Claddagh men look upon the bay of Galway
as their inheritance — one which they have de
fended with a courage which speaks better for their
determination and spirit than for their knowledge
of law. They have, however, up to this period,
effectually prevented the use of the trawl, although
frequently attempted by gentlemen who had pos
sessed yachts. Their opinion is that such a mode of
fishing is destructive of the spawn, and that the
disturbance of the shallows would end in the de
struction of the deep sea-fishing, from which, for a
great part of the year, they draw their subsistence.
At the herring time, however, the nets are in
requisition, and in this fishery all are joined. They
have not the same mode of taking the herring as
will be noticed in the Scotch fisheries. Whenever
a shoal is indicated in Galway bay, every boat is at
sea ; the nets are all fastened together, forming a
circle of nearly half a mile in circumference ; these
are gradually drawn together, and then begins the
work of sport. The herrings are literally scooped
into the boats, as solid masses, and many tons are
frequently the reward of one night's toil. This is
the harvest of the fishermen, and, from the im
mense profit derived from the short period of the
herring visit, they are sustained through the dreari-

308 THE CLADDAGH.
ness of the winter, when the sea-fishing is attended
with considerable danger.
But the Claddagh men are a noble race of inde
pendent fellows, innocent in their lives, and deter
mined in character. Of their honesty, generaUy,
there can be no suspicion ; and if they do not pos
sess the polish of citizens, they, at least, are not
deficient in the sterner virtues.
" The divil take the selfish loons !" said the
major : " not take hire for their beggarly washing-
tubs of boats ? May be it's a high market they
want." " I think not," said the prior. " There is little
to tempt them in money. They are wholly free
from the characteristic vice of the towns."
" Oh, by the powers, Father, they want to be in
a regiment ; a little military law would aid them ;
but they have at least the satisfaction of being free
from the patronage of a rascally government, from
which I draw a paltry pay quarterly."
" No doubt they purpose to remain so. Although
neglected now, many a family among them has
suffered deeply by the ruthless demands of the
state, which, if applied to in their affliction, is
tardy in affording assistance. You know not how
many widows and orphans are there whom the
pressgang has rendered such. Finer sailors were
nowhere to be found. But they were not enslaved

THE CLADDAGH. 309
easily ; and in the contest for liberty many a life
has been lost. Although these people would resist
to the uttermost, even to blood, the impost of a
tax, or the subjugation to municipal authority, they
are open to all the feeling of gratitude which kind
ness can inspire. What is it you want ?"
I explained that we had determined to try the
sea-fishing of the bay ; to visit Arran and Conne
mara ; and for that purpose our intention was to
fit up a good boat, such as the fishermen used,
with some additional comforts.
" It can immediately be obtained," said the
prior ; " I will write to the mayor — not of Galway,
but of the Claddagh."
The note was soon despatched, and as soon
answered by the presence of the mayor himself.
He was an elderly man, of the roughest exterior ;
the tanned complexion bespoke a long life of ex
posure to the roughest breezes; but there was an
intellectual boldness that might, under other cir
cumstances, have raised him to eminence among
a community more powerful than the Claddagh
fishermen. He bowed as he entered the room,
and his countenance brightened at the prior's pre
sence. " What can the Claddagh do for your reverence's
honour?" said the sturdy official.
" Not much, Michael. My friends, here, are

310 THE CLADDAGH.
anxious to have one of the fishing-boats that hap
pens to be unemployed, and a good hand to attend
them in their excursions. I am told it is difficult
to find a boat."
" Difficult ! Sure is it your reverence that talks
of difficulty in getting a boat ; the whole fleet is
ready." " It is not for myself, Michael, but for these
friends I want it."
" It's enough, your reverence ; when shall it be
ready ?"
" To-morrow."
" Your reverence would have two hands any way
to the boat. The sprats are in the bay, and there
will be glorious sport to-morrow with the white
fish." " Take a glass of whiskey, Michael."
" Oh, long life and blessings to your reverence !"
He was impatient to begone, bowed with pro
found respect to the prior, and retired.
A short time only had elapsed before we were
Uterally beset with applicants for the honour of
attending us. A selection had been made, and
several of the best hands, anxiously hoping to be
come the choice of the prior, had been permitted to
present themselves. The two first were at once
appointed to the office ; and, though full intima
tion was given that the choice had been made,

TITHES. 311
nothing could repress the anxiety of the poor
fellows to secure the happiness of obliging their
kind pastor.
" You must offer these lads no money for their
services," said the prior; "they will really feel
aggrieved if they have not the opportunity of
serving you without being suspected of any mer
cenary views. While in your service I know you
will treat them well ; but give no wages. I will
contrive that you shall not be without the means of
rewarding them, but it must be done with delicacy,
and through the medium of their families."
" By my soul, they are noble fellows," said the
major. ". Why the devil was not I a priest? I
shouldn't then have been paid by a rascally govern
ment." " There would certainly be no chance of that,"
said the prior, smiling ; " we are not the paid of
any government ; but our usefulness, I trust, is not
the less on that account."
I suggested that it was probable the strong pre
judices of the English would one day yield to the
irrefragable proofs of the importance of sustaining
the influence of religion amongst a people whose
education- and improvement were so much the
apparent objects of parliamentary soUcitude, and
that an adequate remuneration would be ultimately
awarded to the services of the priesthood.

312 TITHES.
" Remuneration !" said the prior, while a blush
of excitement mounted to his cheeks. " I trust I
shall never be one of the body that could be induced
to accept it. Nothing can be ¦ more untrue than
the suspicion that, as a body, the Irish priesthood
aim at any state assistance. We war not with the
tithes ; if they were collected from the right sources,
they would become nothing more than burdens
upon the tenure of the land ; we would scorn to
accept any part of them, if offered. Our influence
and our usefulness might date tlieir downfall from
the moment the Catholic priests condescended to be
sustained at the expense of a Protestant govern
ment." " Condescend ! " said the major ; " faith, and
we must all condescend ; and whenever I draw
my quarterly — this is quartering upon the inimy,
says I."
" The priests," said I, " have no enemies to
quarter on, but those who have not known them."
" And," said the prior, while he took my hand
in token of a grateful cordiality, " it is not from
strangers we would derive the reward of our
labours ; we are content to receive it, humble
though it be, from those who know us."
Our evening was spent as an angler's should be.
The subjects discussed were indeed various, but none
were passed by the prior. We learned the process of

SEA-FISHING. 313
education adopted in Rome for those intended for
the priesthood ; the discipline is severe : seven
years of absolute confinement within the walls of
a monastery; the utmost labour exacted, each
hour bringing its appointed task ; while the per
sonal comforts awarded to the noviciate are of the
most meagre order. The range of the studies,
however, is extensive, comprehending not only the
learning of the ancients, but the controversial pro
ductions of the fathers, whose voluminous tomes
would alarm an English collegian. Nor is modern
literature neglected ; the priests are generally ex
cellent linguists ; their manners subdued and ami
able, affected, doubtless, by the severity of their
education ; but the reward attendant upon the
sacrifice of all the worldly happiness of their
youth is, when viewed in reference to other pro
fessions, of a very inadequate amount ; there must
be, therefore, other motives than the selfish ones
too liberaUy ascribed to them.
Having taken our leave of the Father, the major
produced his basket ; it contained a supply of every
sort of tackle calculated for deep sea-fishing, an art
very little understood, as the mere pot-fishers of the
coast pursue it in the cheapest and, therefore, the
coarsest manner. The science of sea-fishing has
indeed been wholly neglected where nets are not
VOL. I. P

314 SEA-FISHING.
available; but it is a science that will repay the
trouble of acquirement.
The ordinary coarseness of the tackle, used by
the seamen, is very ill adapted for the better sort of
fish, such as turbot, ling, and cod. The hake, in
deed, is a very voracious creature, and partakes of
the qualities of the dogfish, although the former,
properly dressed, forms by no means a contemptible
dish. Galway bay presents, however, sport of
every kind, and, on the approach of the herrings,
which is indicated by the arrival of immense shoals
of cod, ling, and halibut, there is, perhaps, no
variety ofthe northern tribes, some of whose frater
nity do not appear on the coast.
Preparing, therefore, for impending business, we
selected the finest tackle. Our mackarel hook-lines
were composed of good twisted gut, instead of the
heavy hemp lines of the Galway fishermen, and our
whiting crosses were made of the same material,
vice the common tarred string. To each of our long
Une hooks, which were an inch and a half in the
diameter, was affixed a swivel to preserve the
tackle against congers ; villains who abound on the
coast, and whose dishonesty is so intense that on
the discovery of any fish fast hooked, no matter of
how large an order, they never hesitate to convert
it into an extempore meal, politely, however, leav
ing the head to communicate the intelligence when

SEA FISHING. 315
the line is drawn. If, however, by any accident, he
should also take a fancy to the head, or should him
self be induced to attack the original bait, and find
no accommodation for his contortions, in the way of
a swivel, it will not occupy him long to destroy a
whole line. Although this difficulty may be
guarded against by the use of the swivel, there is
no such thing known among the Galway fisher
men. Our long line prepared, and hand lines duly
stretched, we appointed an early hour in the morning
for our essay, determined to visit Arran in the
evening. Full of anticipation, we separated for the
evening, the major having drained the whiskey
bottle to the dregs, declaring that there was
nothing in the Galway bay, or on the coast of Conne
mara, that could come near the riding a salmon
ashore.

END OF VOL. I.

LONDON:
F. SHOBBRI.. JON., PRINTER, 51, RUPERT STREET, HAYMARKET.

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