The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1893-11-18

i
breakers on the rocks, the distant ship,
whose half hidden hull rouses strange
memories of the days he first read that
the world is round, all fascinate and
cause throng of throbbing thoughts in
expressible. That sudden, totally unex-
pected glimpse of the Irish sea was worth
miles of toilsome pedsling, and it is such
incidents that the cycle tour, rough and
unpleasant as it sometimes is, constantly
affords.
It seemed fitting to pause before rudely
entering the vale OF Avoca, to whose See
mic attractions Moore has added the
glamour of poetic interest. Indeed, the
view at the other side Of Arklow was fine
enough to command pause. Gazing
east there was shore and sea. Below
was the silvery river, almost at it's jour
ney's end. Up the valley high bank,
wooded with evergreens, a bend of the
river and the background of mountains
disclosed countless points Of beauty.
Across the river was the green slope ris.
ing till it's tormost ridge gave evidence
in the sharpness of it's outline against
the horizon that it presented majestic
cliff front to the ceaseless battering
waves of the ocean. On high bank
close by the road e group of girls sat
singing, ''There's somebody waiting for
me-" as they gazed curiously at the
stranger, drinking in the sunlight beauty
that was naught to them because they
were at home.
II THE FAIR VALE OF AvOCA.
Poets and artists may find endless in
spiration in the lavish natural charms OF
the valleys Of the Avoca Tor 0 oca), the
Aughrim, ,theAvonnnore, and the Avonbeg
As an humble cycle tourist could drink
in the beauty like some strange, mystic
araught for the first time tasted. But to
describe tho taste-ah! that is difficult.
Wooded, fern-grown, mossy bank; rock
wall with water overlapping; green
heights, maj c-rising from opposite
brink; glimpse Of rufaed water through
Emasking oopse; mountain -bordered val
ley vista; shaded avenue with lovers
| walking but one cannot even catalogue
the charms. So insensibly does one view
melt into another that separate naming,
let alone description, is impossible.
The prettiest bit is at Wooden Bridge,
where the Gold Mines and Aughrim
rivers join the Avoca. The three deep,
yet gracefully rounded, valleys divide the
richly colored mountains so variously,
yet harreon1ously, that each challenges
the admiration for superior praise. The
little hotel against the central mountain
side, and overlooking the meeting Of the
waters" is so trim and has such pretty
| grounds that with the bridge it graces
and adds not unpleasing human ele-
ment to the wondrous beauty Of the
scene: Moore's meeting of the waters
is farther up, but is not conspicuous
from the road, and reached Kathdrum
without having identified that particular
bit of the vale of Avooa from the hun
dreds of other beautiful spots that gave
| visual delight on that memorable ride.
IRISH BEAUTY STILL EXISTS.
All that Sunday afternoon / met jaunt-
ing cars filled with gay young folks on
pleasure bent. Seen in their Sunday
inery many of the girls we're exceeding
pleasing to the eye. After partially los
ing faith I began to believe there is yet
rustic beauty in Ireland. had a good
look at two of the prettiest Of these
maids, and even exchanged few words
OF banter. T stopped to ask my way at q
little cottage nestled against the bank on
which the road ran. The young man in
the yard, before even answering my ques-
ton, called out to some one within:
"Come out if you want good look at
one Of them" Whether he meant me or
the wheel as the curiosity I don't know,
but the buxom, dark-eyed lasses that ap-
peared gave both good inspection while
I tried to hold my own against the three
and at the same time enjoy the pretty
faces.
That evening at Rathdrum I got fur
ther glimpses of Irish Sunday outings in
their latter stages. The little hotel was
not bothered with stretching a six days
license over seven days. sale, and the
jaunting car parties found plenty Of
liquid refreshment. Before sterling on
the gay young people would sit on the
panier- like seats Of the outside cars and
sing song after cong that went to tunes
more rolllcking than hymns, while the
hotel people and others stood about and
applauded.
THE IRISH HOLY LAND.
The next morning another lovely val.
Icy ride up the Avonmore and the Avon
beg brought me to L1aragh Bridge, the
entrance to the vale of Glendalougb
famed alike as msrvelously set gem o