Morning journal and courier., 1888-11-17


 ENKIsKLLEN, Ireland, Nov. 6.
 To the Editor of the JOURNAL. AND COURIER:
 There is sovereignty of elation and exal- tation in wandering alone among the scenic glories of any land. A good staff or stick, a stout pair of legs, @ receptive mind, and above all cheery heart, whatever one's luck, are the regal companions for such loiterings. Thus one is in true habiliment and spirit for natures open-handed companionship. She appears at her myriad doors and windows which are shut to noisy crowds, with radiant welcomings. You may be satyr and even god with her for the day; and poets can nev- CT sing as she will sing to you, and you will sing in and from your soul to her, to the marvel of yourself, where before you knew nc harmonious chord. -a. ------~ --s- It was with some such reflections as these that, on the last morning of October I had left the little hamlet of Kilmacrenan before daybreak, and come with and without the sun over the Glendowan mountains to zee the rising of the mists from the great valley of Glen veagh, and feast upon the wondrous charms of burn and mountain, tough and glen, cascade asd cliff, if good fortune should  And what witching morning it was' Scarcely could your hand be seen before you for the fog. There was your road, centuries old and as hard as Irish landlordism, beneath your feet You could not mistake that. But what was to the right or the left, or be- fore, only fancy, quickened by the mornings awakening life, intensified by near and far mysterious sounds, could locate and divine. Tramp, tramp, tramp, brayely es you might, these grew into the consciousness as so i'm perative of recognition, that, despite your self, ever and again you would stop to listen, listen. Drip, drip, drip from the leaves of the hedges into water basins of rock, the great drops striking the water like silver pel- lets upon glass; until the very chimes of the fairies were rung in your ears beside the road. Not rod away, but invisible, rivu- lets of the nights making wimpled from l rocks to pools, from the staocato of tenor | trills to the low baritone minors of stately psalms. Just at my side, as if snapping | with it's long neck from behind the curtain | ing mist, a goose would hiss, or duck quack
 at the door of an unseen cabin. Beyond or
 behind, chained dog, making dismal hew gag of kennel door and chain, leaped out and l in, paying to his peasant master of untimely footsteps. Over my head the restless abra- sion of boughs whispered that the leaves, from their very weight of fog cups, sighed
 and paoaned as if impatient of their sunless prisoning Hedge branches cracked from | water weight as in the frost battles of ap- preaching winter. Here and there as the | L iAo kho 1 hesitant pipe of stirring bird, the batter of | wild hares' feet upon the slippery leaves, the | half caught, hoarse resonance of hidden wa terfall: while faint and far and distractingly mnffied, the notes of distant early early | chapel bell pushed in through the feecy l folds of the fog. Learning these and count | 1ess more by heart, then it was tramp, tramp,
 tramp again, as if pushing every step through impalpable banks of snowi And then
 | An, yes; here were the brave old Donegal questioners again, as I came between two | towering bare headed, bare footed figures standing across the way in front of their own invisible roadside farmhouse, gazing and
 stretching, and s'getting taste O the morn. " But no inquisition this time. Just two pleasant faced Irishmen, father and son;
 ready for friendly argument upon anything;
 wondering at the stranger and his brave
 speed through the fog; and whom DO diplo-
 macy could escape until breakfast of theiI simple fare was had with them. Then, as
 the harvests were well in, the son must be
 my guide through Glen Veagh whether or
 no; and, by this and by that, pledge must
 be given that, when the day was done,
 would become one of those who from the
 country roundabout were to make the thatch
 es of that very farm house shiver and ring | with the innocent hilarities of an Irish All
 Hallow eve.
 If your fancy be glowing one, put it tc it's most fervent test in picturing the widest
 sweetest, weirdest and most gloriously beau tiful spot within it's powers of creation, and you have not then got even glimpse of the
 magical Vaccinations of Glen Veagh. From
 where we stood until the mists had vanished at the mouth of the pass through Glendowar
 mountains. half way between mountain tor
 and valley level, the whole mighty series oi resp1eudent panoramas stretched away to tht north, blending into surpassing purples above the stately blue of Veagh Lough. To ths east and our right rose the long and grace fully outlined heights of Glendowan. Be hind and to the south uplands dipped and i, rolled into mstchless valley descents, shap. ing the approach to Glendowan valley, which merged below us into the nobler depths oi Glen Veagh. To the far west from south tc north, and forming the remoter valley rim swept the Derryveagh ronges; while througl their highest opening were discerned thu : glittering grays of lone Errigal, of all Done gal the monarch height. Glendowan soarel
 above the mists; Muchish lifted it's huge 3 long back, monster like even in the sunshine { and the lofty Dooish set hinty wall to tn west, straight up from the edge of the glel for twelve hundred of it's twenty-two hun dred feet ia height. Through all the valle ' between island, ezegs and sopse ponre