The Irish standard., 1893-11-18
VALE OF AV0CA.
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Il AlL VI a IOlIll
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ecclesiastical remains Of an ancient cen
Ter Of religion and learning that give the
name Of seven churches. AS l went
down tho hill from Laragh rather fan
tastically attired man with feather IN
his cap said something about bicycles
in the holy land"
I wandered about the round tower, the
ruins, and the toylike church
called st. Kevin's cell before I got into
the. clutches of the sexton. Then, OF
course, / had to 20 with him into the cell
and be told about the stone crosses and
carvings and assured that it was the old
est building in Ireland, and that there
must be something holy about it, since
all the other churches were demolished
and this stood intact after 1900 years.
He further confided that times were not
what they used to be.
The walk along the base OF the noun
tains and up the shady bank to where
the Lugduff plunges into an emerald
pool and then playfully squirms and
twists and leaps among the moss grown
rocks and overhangipg ferns into the val
ley below, was most enjoyable. just past
the scsnty ruins of Reefert church the
man with the feather in his cap came
bounding down the rocks to the lake
shore. "Welcome to the holy land" he
calls out in a pleased tone that is ex'
planned when be asks zone and six to
guide me to est. Kevin's bed"
.''Don't mind NE; I'm enchanted" he
called back, rs, with show of great
agility, be bounded up the rather dan
gerous path along the brink of forty
foot precipice, with the lake below. 'Oh,
you've climbed before. You're like my
self, ure-footed," he was good enough to
say when he found could follow as fast
as he led.
A stranger would scarcely like to VEN
ture along the path without guide, for
he could not be sure Of getting back. At
the "Lady's Leap assistance is needed
to spring down to the oyerhanging shelf
on which the path is continued. The
"bed,' little farther on, is where, legend
relates, St. Kelvin flung poor kathleen,
with eyes of most unholy; blue" into the
lake for being led by love to trace him to
his retreat. IT is a curious recess in the
rock right over the water. The guide
says divers have failed to touch bottom
below. The mountains, Lugduff, Cana
derry, and the rest crowd about the ro-
mantle lake as if eager to mirror their
naughty heads in the wonderfully clear
yet richly colored depths. The scene is
majestic in it's grandeur and calming in
it's restful solitude. A fitting place for
holy thoughts il only that talkatiye guide
were not by ones side. For a quarter Of
a century he he's made his living by lead
ing tourists up that steep path or rowing
them to the easier one from the lake
shore. He complains OF a'poor season
and few Americana, and wants two ehil-
lines when we are down, but does not
get it. After directing me farther ana
asking my card he gayly waves me adieu'
A road over the hills that was not on
the map took me t near Ashford. and J.
explored the Devils glen. The piano.
rama of beautiful scenes for that day was
closed with the broader and tanner Glen
of the Downs, with the two sugar loafs
raising their odd oonical heads against
the evening sky on either side OF the
park bordered road.
And then came "Dublin's Brighton"
Bray, where modern seaside villas and
terraces have almost elbowed out the
thatched cottages; where the little hotel
had ,'lavatory;" where the merry-go-
round, with wildly vociferous steam
organ, the "Sally AIMS or puppet tar
gets, and a host of other "modern i'm
provements' brought one to rudely real
ize that the region of picturesque rustic
ity was at an end.