Morning journal and courier., 1889-05-04

r6Sn lrOcky IRuQ)I out or Wnlcn, ana rom lakes of as marvellous beauty and grandeur as those of Killarney, a wild and picturesque mountain stream descends with great roar ing beneath quaint old Caragh Bridge, and thence rushes on to blend with the waters of Dingle Bay. All this region behind is one of enchantment to the lettering nature lov- CT, and veritable paradise to the sports man and angler. By the middle of the afternoon we had passed through witching Glenbeagh. Then came another splendid mountain ascent, revealing at each grace. full winding of the great highway tawny
 tarn and darkening dingle in the hooded half'lights below towering cliffs, which gained, gave US several miles of travel al-
 most along the very brow of 6 mountain
 range, with Dingle Bay shining like silver
 beneath, undisturbed by glint of single sail;
 and resplendent views of the solitary and
 mighty peaks of Corkaguiny beyond. To
 my mind one of the most astounding things
 about Ireland is, that with it's infinite varie-
 ty of indescribably beautiful and grand scenery, it's matchless antiquities, it's most
 unique and interesting pesssntry in the world, and it's closest eontiguity to America of any European country, that any lover of the beautiful and sublime from our own land can be prevailed upon to pass such transcen- dent delights for the worn and dusty ways of Continental Europe.
 From our mountain road we eaW the sun sink into it's flaming bed upon the Atlantic horizon; but we yet lacked two or three hours of completing our journey of forty five miles from Killarney to the sea. So we left the heights above Dingle Bay, and after beginning the lovely descent towards Cahir- siveen through the glowing valley of the Knocknadober, my companion shortly led the way over rocky mountain boreen for nearly mile off the great stone road we had traversed. Suddenly turning the jutting point of huge cliff rising from deep gorge around which the foot-path trailed, we came to little cluster of cabins in the sweetest and tiniest of Kerry giens; all overhanging, but inaccessible at this point from the high way which wound like 8 ribbon of pink along the base of the heights hundreds of feet below. Here was little eerie where were perched an Irish "shebeen," which to one of inquiring mind might have been giv- en identification with certain secluded still farther up the glens, where ''a drop of the right sort of dew" is now and then distilled; few cabins where live score of souls who ''mind" the herds of the graziers of Kerry; and mite of chapel, within which at least once year a little altar is lighted. But We were among friends; some plain and hearty food was set before us; and before the light had entirely faded from the upper peaks of Knoeknadober myself and my shaggy com panion were sleeping peacefully upon a bit of fresh straw in the secure, if not spacious, loft of an ever hospitab1s Irish cabin "she been."
 Although I slept heavily, several times during the night heard soft knocks at the door of ths little ''shebeen." A regular and | interesting order of events, distinguishable l only by sound, followed each of these rap pings. Our host stumbled to the door; ! opened & little wicket withiE, t; sn1 then ! as il in great effort to adjure extraordinary ! silence, gave vent to 6 ''Sh-h-h-h!" that l could have been easily heard for good | quarter of a mile.
 1 ssTear an ages!" he would growl, "an' | who are yez, ye spalpeen, that'd sphlit the mountain enthirely wid yer crashin' av the l dure2"
 l "Arragn, ye ould shamer, it's msself, Jem- my Dooley, from beyant the Caragh Cor Tim Duffy av the Dinge side; or Jerry Cooney. ! av Drung Hill; or Paddy Fshy, av Coomass- ! harn;) an it's a bit O the right sort I'd be havin', swate bad luck to yez"
 "Divil drop yell get here, ye blackmouth gaugerl But I'll not be oncivil to yez, the ! hour O night. How's the woman that owns yea- Sh-h-h-hl"
 | ''Better nor the divils 'Iuck-penny' in yer | own pursel-I'll go bail to that same, by the ! eleyens!"
 | s'Sh h-h-h!'
 | Then. as by this time the night traveller had entered, came dim light from "splin, l ter'' set aiame in the smoldering peat in the ] fireplace and wedged in an open cranny of | the chimney angle. This was followed by l the sound of soft and musical gurgling of 1 liquid from some heavy vessel and the sill l very wimple of the same into bottle of ! lesser capacity. Then came heavy clink- 1 ing of coin like that from copper pence. sug- 1 gesting commercial transaction of well es- | tablished character; and after this, gulp l and smack from the parting cup with the l muffied toast, 'Shuid-urth! (Here's to you);" when Jemmy, Tim, Jerry or Paddy
 would depart down the boreen humming a soft strain of satisfaction and cheer; at 1 which our host would listen and growl tor & ! bit, when the light would disappear, and the l potheen merchant would tumble heavily into l his trunk near the hob
 l These incidents, growing more frequent as | the morning neared, and the clamorous as- l sertiveness of 6 stentorian cock which with l several auerulous consorts occupied with us | a portion of the loft, finally 50 thoroughly awakened me that for some time laid list l ening to distant rumbling and roaring for | which I could in nowise account; and as 1 there was ladder leaving from the loft upon | the cabin byre and from thence into the lit l tie paddock, I silently stole without and l gained the cliffs oVerhanging the main high way, the first tremulous grays of dawn be- | gan throbbing over the dark heather sweeps | of the mountain above.
 A strange confusion of sounds arose from ] the gorge below. At first I could but dimly zee 8 procession of moving things, some | time massed and accompanied by Babelbic medley of voices, or again separated into l gtraggling objects making at best sleepy and silent progress towards Cahirsiveen. But as 1 the low-lying fog lifted, and the morning l light crept in over the wide stone road, the l secret of the all night intrusions, and of the l cavaloade below me, was revealed. It was l Saturday morning; fair and market day at I the old seaport town; and all the quaint 1 folk from the wilds of Iveragh, as was their l custom from time immemorial, were "trnn- | ding to the fair afore the broke O day" | And what queer kindly lot they were. l Here group Of ''the byes," wriggling along ] face to face, settling questions of mountain
 honor in tremendous though friendly ha- rangue and dispute. Then cart, driven by 1 the "ould man," in which vera the ''ould l woman an childre slapein' rings round their swate selves" Carts there were with pigs | snorting violent protest and surprise; with l geese craning their necks in viciously- missed | defiance and interrogation, with sheep bleat- l ing piteously; all interepersed with or fol- l lowed by old women with braideen covered | baskets; young women with packages of l yarn or flannel; lasses humping donkeys la 1 den with creels, or guiding recalcitrant goats l and kids; but every lass woman knitting 1 away vigorously, in time to step and gossip;
 old men, bumped and severe, begging along l with thump of stick and puff of pipe; and l all the strange quaint souls of the Kerry i wilds whether they had to sell or the where l withal to buy; and of course squad of con- l stabulary, to remind them of their serfdom tagging at their heels, or charging at a gallop
 through the cayaleade. In little while my
 shaggy companion was ready for our own
 | morning march. We descended the noun
 tain boreen and mingled with the fair.going
 people. Walking thus to Cahirsiveen, we
 fingered moment at the ruins of the birth
 place of greet Daniel O'Connell, at Carhan
 Bridge; loitered an hour among the market
 day scenes beyond; and by mid day were
 among the fishermen of the southwest coast
 at the tiny fishing hamlet of Port Magee
 l EDGAR l.. WAKKMAN.