Delaware gazette and state journal. (Wilmington, Del.) 1883-1902, 1892-12-15


All along down the west coast your
interest will betivded between glimpses
Of strange old Manx hamlets popping
from the mountain bases where flashes
of foaning streams tremble like the
splendid mountain views behind and
above, and the plainly discerned Irish
coast whore the Mourne Mountains
through the distance cover with purple
their emerald green. But at last here is
ancient Peel, Thistle Head and st.
Patrick Isle. Miles of white strand
thread along the coast to the brown old
nest upon the rocks, like shining way
Of faith leading unfalteringly to date
less antiquity. No cobweb lover will
be disgruntled that broom of progress
has modernized Peel. Everything is
old and mellow and dim. The hum
dreds of fishing craft forming with their
old masts an antique tracery before the
town seem TO belong to forgotten age.
Dark are its walls, narrow its streets,
tiny its windows, grave and silent its
people.
Gray and old and more forhidding
than all else is its once mighty castle at
the harbor mouth. 1t stands on patriclIs
Holm, or st. PaLricll's Island, seven
acres in extent. Venerable, haunted and
hallowed all. llallowed and venerable
for st. Patrick himself raised the begin.
nlngs Of the church on whose site the
half ruins Of great cathedral are now
found. Haunted because of incXpressi-
bic cruelties and foul murders in crypts
and castle here. Through these lofty
pillars, bending arches, hollow galleries
and by these dismantled affairs one can
stride from the nineteenth to the fifth
century. In the saddening echoes Of
the sea calls he can hear the meanings
of imprisoned Eleanor, the curses of
Stanley, the triumphant "Allelujah !"
of Germanus that put TO rout the Sax
ons in the bloody Flintshire fields.
Haunted more than all else to Manx-
land mind because it is the abiding
place for all time Of that most terrible
of ManX powers of darkness, the black
and dreadful "Moody Dhoo."
From Peel to Port Erin is a match
lessly wild and romantic reach of coast.
There is scarcely break in the lofty,
precipitous wall And what n grand
spot is this Port Erin and environs |!
The A1any mountains rise solemn and
dark behind. The bay is an almost
landlocked cove. Tremendous Bradda
Head, rising 500 feet sheer from the sea,
shuts out the bowling northern tempests.
Another headland sweeps around and
up from the south. Once the ancient
port was rich from commerce with
Ireland. Now it is a dark antique,
sleeping within bed of myrtle. The
fashionable have found it out, and soon
another gay and brilliant Palermo will
hide its ancient walls.
Now you are sped around the Calf of
| Man. BOlder, grander, more grewsome
| still are its vast sea walls and fearful
chasms iesistless tides gnaw at its
| base. The angry spume is flung to its
topmost crags. 1t is desolate Of human
| life. Millions of sea-fowl wheel and
| Shrek above it. But one other spot
have seen so typical of furious desc
lation. Where the Arran Island crags
receive the ceascles8 poundings of the
! Atlantic, and the thunders of the ever
lasting battle are SO great that even the
a-gull's shrek is soundless, is another
such needless place.
Coasting along the eastern shore
again, first Spanish Head is passed and
then Port ST. Mary. Between these is
u typical ManX hamlet called Cregneish.
1t is a little cluster of Centures.old
stone cottages. Huge walls connect
each. The old habits and dress of the
| ancient Manx are still preserved by its
two-score inhabitants. Until recently,
the ManX language was solely spoken
here. The folk are fishermen, God.
fearing, simple, good. All the olden
fairies still live with them; and will re
main until the modern vices come.
Here at Port st. Mary during the fish.
ing season is the rendezvous of the
Manx herring fleet. If you are here al
that time it will remind you of the ami
mated scenes in August at Wick in
Scotland or Lerwick in Shetland. The
anchorage is crowded with heavily
laden fishing smacks, whose brown
sails shine like FURNISHED copper in the
sun; while others are constantly round
ing the point into the bay Small boats
are filled with the shining silvery fish
passing to and fro between the smacks
and the shore. Buyers carts drive int
the water up to their aXles the reader
to receive the fish. Not hundreds bu
thousands of men, women and children
all in fine frenzy Of cumulative indus
try, scurrying in all directions and claC
in strange attire, fill up the picturesque
and busy scene These folk are nearly
all Wesleyan Methodsts. They arc a,
like the Cornish fisher folk of st. I've
as the herring of both; and none o
their boats ever put to sea on Saturday
or Sunday; nor do they at any time ven
ture upon their sea harvcstings withou
goodly prayers and psalms.
A little further to the north dark AM
gray lies CastletOwn, now as of old
, among its darker limestone rocks, Will
its ancient castle still more somber tow
ering grewsomely above. This is tn
once famous Rushen Castle, with scant
remains Of RushGn Abbey near, am
scene Of the murder of wicked Kin
Reginald by lvar the good knight. III
, Danes founded the castle, ard it resem
bles Elsnor of Hamlet fame, Its use
= now as prison do not detract from ii
, almost ferocious grandeur. The abbey
the last doomed suppression in Britain
is an otf.shoot of beautiful old Furnes
Abbey, Just across the channel in Ian
, cashire, where the bones Of manya kin
of Man were willed to lie.
, Back at douglas again from such
: contemplation as this OF the dear littl
Isle of Man." and warrant you are
: score of years and an hundred books i
a advantage over him who enters Mans
y land at the sea gates of its splendi
! town, and views its form and fol
. through the false perspective of fin
y hotels, crowds of summer or winte
I oilers, and the misleading gay actiyitie
\ comparing with those of our own Ba