Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1898-10-27
VALE or AvocA.
John Il. Scott Writes EntertainingIy OF
Historical Ireland.

Holyhead in England, we entered Dub
lin Bay just as the sun was beginning
to set. The bay presents beautiful
prospect. The land stretches forward
in two peninsulas, and looks as if it
were opening its arms to receive you.
To the south are the Wicklow hills,
the Golden Spears" the Celt has
named them, and to the north rises
lighthouse, its rugged sides bright
with gorse and heather.
The Irish capital is city of about
three hundred thousand people, which
is divided somewhat into the old city
and the new. The river Liffey flows
through the heart of the city and
empties into the sea at this point.
The old city, however, has vet its in
terests, if only for the traces of what
has been. There are the old cathe-
drals, ST.. Patrick's, shrine of Swift
and Christ church. with Strong
bows tomb in the nave, Trinity col
lege, Dublin castle. the Bank of Ire
land, the old Parliament house and
the Royal Irish academy are among
it's architectural boasts. The latter
is splendid building and contains
fine collection of Irish antiquities,
among other things st. Patrick's bell
and shrine. Dublin has some fine
parks and is also an educational cen
ter of much repute.
We visited old KiImainham Jail or
castle, where the man whose memory
is cherished in every true Irish heart,
Robert Emmett, was confined. He
was hanged in the midst of st.
Thomas street, which is but short
distance away. Many a martyr of
Ireland has died in front of this
old Jail, found guilty of wearing of
the green. The people of the Irish
capital are certainly well guarded, for
about every fifth man that you meet
wears either the red jacket of the
queen, or the beautiful uniform of
one of the highland regiments. In
a political way Ireland and Dublin
were never quieter than they are now.
Here and there, however. you may see
flving over the door of some society
hall the green flag with the harp.
bearing the pathetic Inscription, God
Save Ireland. :"
Leaving Dublin on bright morn
ing with fresh, cool, breeze blowing
in from the sea, we were soon head
ing for the Wicklow hills. To the
left. and often almost below us. were
the blue waters of the Irish sea, and
to the right a beautiful, rolling land
that stretched away to the mountains, |
now purple and brown with the |
heather and bracken. Passing Kings |
town, Graystones and Wicklow we
entered the Vale of Avoca, spot |
which all Ireland loves, and whose |
beauties have been sung by Ireland's |
best loved poet.
The vale is a paradise of woodland,
through which the pretty river, the
Avoca, winds, disappearing behind
some wooded headland only to appear
farther on bright and shining. The
foliage was just beginning to take on
The autumn tints, and a beautiful
sight, indeed. was this quiet valley,
seemingly asleep in its cradle among
.he hills.
1t is hard to convey an impression
IF the vale. l think Thackery de-
;cribes it best when he says, Il think
he Irish scenery just like the Irish
sweet, wild and sad, even
n the sunshine.
A few miles below Rathdrum is the
Meeting of the Waters" where the
Anghrim flows into the Avoca. On
he left bank of the river, right by the
Meeting are the ruins of the cottage
where Moore was born, and on the
opposite bank is a giant tree
which was planted by the poet. Be
lind Moore's cottage, high upon the
Hills overlooking the vale, is Castle
splendid building. At
we took Il jaunting
ar and wound up a finely shaded
Dad along the hills on the right bank
# the river. We were privileged to
-isit Glenart Castle and its beautiful
from whence our way led
Is through beautiful park, we being
bile at every clearing to catch fine
Jew back up the glen, or over the
ow hills to the east, while the village
# Arklow nestled on the shore of the
ca. We stopped at Arklow for din
Ter, and it being fair day we wan
Tered up and down its crowded streets
or couple of hours, watching with
unused interest the strang scene
)ne of the important battles of the
,reat rebellion was fought near the
'illage, and it was here that Father
durphy was killed at the head of his
men.
The return of our 21-mile drive was
made back along the other bank of
he river, past Shelton abbey and
through the beautiful estates of Bally-
rthur.
The one thing that detracted from
he pleasure and beauty of the pros
'ect, to my mind, was the informa-
ion received that almost the entire
yale of Avoca belongs to two English
Gentlemen, one of whom has recently
cen setting his tenants out on the
highways because they thought $40
'er acre was too much rent to pay. L
old my informant that we had room
or them all in America, and he said: I
Sure, if We only had the, money we I
rouId a IL canap = - !