The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1867-04-06
THE TALE OF A TOMBSTONE.
AN IRISH sExToNs STORY.
BY DANIEL o'CoNNELL TowNLEY.


Esd., the accomplished author of the spirited
Doetical brochure recently published in THE
EVENING TELEGRAPH, entitled "The Rooneys"
The present sketch is transferred to our
columns from the Catholic World for March, a
monthly magazine of general literature and
Science, gilmore than ordinary excellence, pub
lished in New York by Lawrence Kehoe, ESQ.,,
at No. las Nassau street. The Catholic World
is issued under the appreciation of the Most
Reverend Archbishop James McCloskey of
New York, and while it is especially interest
ing to Roman Catholics, it will be found en-
Pertaining to people of all religious denOmna-
tions. and to the world outside of the Church
r-ED. Ev. TEIEGRAPH.l
It is quite true to say that the American
makes mistake who, in his Euro pean tour
leaves Ireland out in the cold unvisited. He
at least fails to make an acquaintance which
could not prove otherwise than interesting,
and possibly to find a burying-place where, if
he had them, he might dispose of his super
fluous preiudices bearing upon that island
and its people-preiudice for the most part
begotten of ill-directed reading or formed with
The hasty conclusions of very limited expe-
TienCe.
If a politician, he cannot fail to learn ere
he travels many miles, whether in Connaught
or in Ulster, what he ought not to do with
people having a desire to see them prosperous
and contented. If a historian, he may find
food for a chapter unwritten by Hume and
Smollet or even by the more impartial
Macaulay--a chapter which may throw some
light upon the cause, ever ObScurely and often
nntruthfully given, whose effect is that spirit
of retrogression which hovers over the un-
happy island and lays its blighting hand upon
every acre from Cork to the Giants Causeway.
If he be a painter poet, or a novelist, he
may find in Ireland and her people an Eldorado
with mines as ineXhaustible as the ore is
rich If tourist merely even such a one as
does London in a fortnight, Paris in a week,
and the Rhine on the fastest steamer upon that
ancient river-that brilliant soul who takes
his sleep o. moOnlit nights, and on the days
which follow, sits yawning over dinner till
the shadows fall, and the storied head
lands have been passed unseen-even such as
he, stupid or blaS6, as the case may be, may
lind in Ireland something to awake to momen-
tary energy, at least, his sleeping thought
and action.
Approaching the fall of 1S-, having done
the continental celebrities the year before, and
having been in England since early in the
month of May, concluded, before returning to
New York, that l should pay a flying
visit to the emerald cradle of that pro-
life race which is, in the language of the
stump, when it suits the orators to say
so, the bone and sinew of these States; the
great lever which uproots our forests the
great spade which hollows our canals; the
huge pick and shovel and barrow that lay
our iron roads over mountain and morass
and the mighty polling power which develops
the peculiarities of legislators, contributes
most generously to the revenue OF the excise
and to the sustenance of the many good and
bad people whose business of life it is to gel
this truly erratic people into all manner o.
trouble, including jails and out of it.
With no prejudices against the Irish peo
pile, and some r-sighteaness as to the
causes of their proverbial discomfort, un-
1hriftiness, and frequent turbulence, ! went
quite ready to sorrow or be glad, just as
either mood was suggested by my surround
ings; neither to sneer at their emotional enthu-
sasm nor to turn disgusted from their hila-
TiOus mirth.
Crossing from Holyhead to Dublin, re-
nained in that city for a few days, then
visited the South and West, leaving the
North to finish off with. But as the purpose
of this sketch is not to detail either impress
sions of the country or its people, or all the
personal experiences of my journey, mus
proceed to the narration of the single incident
the object of this writing, referring the
reader, if his appetite lean in the direction, II
the pencillings of Mr.. Willis or the mucl
more truthful storytelling of Mrs. Hail. M,
immediate purpose is gained if | have in
slight degree awakened the readers interes
for that which follows, and if he understand
that | had now almost reached that perio(
which had set down for the close of my tou
and my return home
OF the month had set apart for Ireland
the bonne Jouche, or if you like the Celti
better, the "dOch an durhas" of my feast
I had but one week left when found mysel
at Warrenpoint, pleasant watering plac
on the margin of the bay of CARING
ford, going northward to Belfast. Her
I had been two days, rather longer than ha
proposed to remain, but the season and tn
place at this time of the year are especial
attractive. So near lreland's highest mountain
as | then was, it occurred to me how discredit
able the confession would be that had no
seen it save in the purple distance and con
cluded to do myself the honor of a near aC
quaintance-sit upon its topmost ridge an
rifle a sprig of heather from its venerabl
crown, as a relic of the nearest spot to heave
on the Isle ofSaints.
"No," said mine host, 'your honor mus
never say good-by to Ireland until you Sc
her only living monarch who has not EN-
grated or been transported to penal colony.
Sieve Donard, the king in question, wa
but twelve miles distant, or rather the villag
nesting at its foot. The road to Newcastle
the name this village bears, was one of pecr
har beauty all the way; and chose, to me
the most enjoyable of all the ways of reachin
at determined to walk there. So, about
O'Clock, on beautiful autumn morning, tn
dew sun upon the grass, and glistening upo
the rustlng leaves of the beeches in a groy
Of NUh 1.