Morning journal and courier., 1889-02-16

flaming red. Those "poor mems birds" !" the humble and melodious innets, might be come upon without surprise in winter in the great forests of. noble demesnes; but who could expect to find them in these lofty soli- tudes? Yet here they are in cloudy hocks, rising, alighting and uttering their pleasing but mournful notes as if in response to some mysterious mountain Iitany unheard by human ears.
 In many of these vast and shadowy noun tain valleys the home nearing feeling came when docks of the modest-plumaged war. blers, the titlarks, rose gracefully from foot hill ascent to higher hill, and again to loftier slope, their gentle flight so remarkable from their rythmic beat of wings in unison with clear and piping notes. The fearless cross- bills in myriads sat munching the seeds of cones in the clustering larch and fir, or took daintier dessert of whitethorne berries with saucy nonchalance almost within reach of my outstretched hand. Everywhere through the loftiest ravines scurried the ravenous kiugfsher, echoes from his shrill notes treb- ling his cries, or he was seen perched with wise alertness upon some decaying bough, the portent of destruction to gleaming min nows in the half frozen pools beneath. Kestrels, or "wind-hovers," form quivering specks against the sky or pallid cliffs, as they tremble in almost stationary points at wondrous heights, while examining with their marvellous vision every square foot of earth below, for prey so diminutiye that you and I, in passing, would not discern 1t at our feet. The slender sparrow-hawk, that lone bandit of mountain and valley, seemed everywhere here in these dreadful heights, fish, flesh or fowl being alike the bold air forager's quarry. That sagacious and disre- putable rogue, the hooded crow, which the suffering peasantry name the "praheen winter wise, sullen and wary, as though temporarily extirpated from homeside fields, and intent upon plans for next seasons re- prisals. Three specimens of those birds Of terrible powers, the peregrine falcons, were seen; those same feathered Bedouins of the air whose speed is from fifty to one hundred and fifty miles per hour; the priceless gifts of and to kings in feudal ages; so prized that emperors have been bribed with them to assist in destructive wars; and whose pur- suit of any other bird of passage is equiva- lent to it's certain death. A few sea-eagles, apparently driven by hunger from the near coast, wheeled slowly around the valley 's rims, their huge, gaunt forms sprawling un- couthly, their tremendous snow-white tails Tapping like gigantic plumes and their ugly, unwieldy head moving in clumsy jerks, as if set in uncertain sockets. Among the crags, and eircling about the highest peaks, but ever wary of human proximity, the true ca gle of loftiest solitudes was here. Nearly half hundred were counted in one weeks 
 occasion were they sufficiently approachable to enable their outlines to be followed by the naked eye. With 8 glass their raven plumsge, their royal collar of gold, their bowed, meditative posture, the sudden dropping of their wings as their shrill, i'm patient screams were uttered, could be clear. ly discerned; and the feeling was irresistible that one is very far from the haunts of men and very near to the clouds and sky, when associated with the grandest subIimity of nature where this majestic monarch of the plumy race is in his haunts and home.
 To the nature-loving walker there is an indescribable delight in the presence of any form of flora in mid-winter. And confess that the glowings of pleasure among these glittering Irish heights were truer and deep CT from the emotions thus awakened than from all the majesty and grandeur in bewil- dering scenic effects; just as the heart is touched by coming upon sweet and perfect greatness among the great often commands but grudging obeisance. Wild flowers in bleak Irish mountain heights in January Truly, yes; and here are those I saw. At nearly the summit of Rengower I found g little pockety vale in which rivulet trick1ed from 8 soggy tarn. At it's northern edge, in little misty dimple, was mass of Irish furze-the gorse of England; the whins of Scotland. Down in the very heart of this bank was bunch of the gay, golden furze blossoms, as brave and proud as ever shook their blossoms in the balmiest breeze of June. In & warm valley among the Nam turks I discovered several of the purple- edged hellebores, growing as prettily on a bank of leaves as in the beds of May gar den.. On the eastern ascent of Littery in four protected hooks were found the modest and best beloved of Chaucer's flowers, his ''days eyes," and ones heart warns to the crimson-tipped daisies, breathing out their lives unnoticed in these almost inaccessible mountain fastnesses. Many specimens of the pretty red nettle were seen, almost al- ways in little clefts of mighty cliffs where the suns rays were warm in spite of how'll ing blasts. A few blossoms of the yellow aconite were set in rolls of moss. The pale green and delicately odorous blossom of the spurge laurel were quite common fringings against copses at the edge of great forests. At the loftiest heights the exquisite snow drop, white as new flakes of snow, rose in iciest places, as if to emphasize the etherial purity of the cloud kissed region. Close to the crumbling chimney of little hut, half way up an almost precipitous ascent of more than one thousand feet, found the bright and laughing face of blue periwinkle peep ing from the rotting thatch of the cabin roof. A seed had mayhap been dropped there by a passing bird.
 But of all the rare surprises in mid-winter mountain flowers was that one experienced during my last morning in the Highlands, just as was turning down the last descent mara road to Clifden. Startled by @ rush and 8 girlish call from hidden path, I turned just in time to receive the headlong force of an irrepressible mountain donkey laden with creels I caught the beast and held it despite it's viciousness; and in anoth- CT instant it's companion, 1.-the, supple and bare-legged mountain maiden, the most ex- nuiaitalV hAantifuI laas I had in Tr6tan0 bounded down the path, and, after soundly larruping the obstreperous animal, thanked me heartily, innocently, bewitchingly, for the trifiing service had rendered. She was going to Clifden to sell donkey load of peat. I was also going to Clifden. We three, the maid, the man and the donkey went togeth- CT. The honest prattle of the little woman, the gladness of the man, the riotous beha- vior of that donkey, and the larrupings and laughter, on that bright winter morning, made the way all too short. And as we parted at Clifden, where one road led to the village and another to the heights above, in all reverence for the unconscious winsome ness, simplicity, purity and bravery of this sweet mountain maid, my heart sang all that these lines may tell:
 TO AN IRISH MOUNTAIN FLOWER.
 Maiden sweet of wild Bengower,
 Fairer thou than fairest fowerl
 Boddiced blue; with skirts of red;
 Dainty toes and archng feet;
 Matchless half-shown limbs deer-feet;
 Where in all the circling zone
 Blend such charms thine in one?
 Where are tones in lnnet's note
 Like the music in thy throat;
 Where in all the faint far South
 Lurks such languors in a mouth;
 Where in depths of Irish skies
 Are such depths as in thine eyes?
 Dead to all the graces he
 Who thrills not as he looks thee.
 Dead to grace he who shall first
 Make thee conscious and accursed.
 Maiden sweet of wild Bengower,
 Be for aye it's mountain 1ower
 EDGAR l.. WATERMAN,
 OOMMUNICATIONs.
 The Railroad Problem.