The daily morning journal and courier., 1902-08-28

shoulder against Should6r. peak Aiter peak Nothing is out of the picture, and when the evening sun falls warm upon them and steeps them in the very clearness and the peace of mel lowing light, every swell and hollow of their majestic moulding is revealed.
 The writer went up Slieve Donard uopn a morning that promised the un- clouded glory of the view. Few climbs have more of all the charms that may lie in variety. From theb right little town of Newcastle, nestling between the mountain and the bay. the path rises for half an hour through the woods of Donard Lodge beside the deepening channel of a stream. Clear above the woods the eye, as you turn backwards for the view, ranges over a sea of tree-tops to the streets of the town and the sapphire curve of the bay, where it seems to fill the entrance of the great valley. Then an hour of breakneck stumbling through the fern and bracken over holes and boulders. So, as. we reached the Great Cairn on the top the inland view was shut out by the threatening curtain of vapor hanging over pinnacle and precipice in weird and nenacing grandeur, But In front was a scene by which we were doubly repaid. Beneath our feet the sun-lit border of the sea, the fields netted together far ana wide in their tartar of inimitable green. Away to the south ran the cloudy fjord of Car lingford Lough, showing one sparkling glimpse between it's double wall Of mountains. To the north the glittering scroll of Dundrum Bay, with its inner lagoon shaped like great silver ar rowhead, was unrolied with the very opposite effect. Beyond the expanse of hill and dale escaped the mist. and the narrow skirt of smiling landscape, as yet unblotted by the sweeping vapor stretched awy to the church towers of Downpatrick But, above all, was "the round ocean and the living air"
 Enough of the mountains. But even those who do not care for the noun tains will find their account below and beyond them. Not wholly belonging to untravelled Ireland are places like Ros- trevor and Warrenpoint, under the wooded mountains of Carlingford Lough, rising upon either side to heights of fifteen hundred or two thou sand feet. Nothing in. Norway is more graceful in fjord scenery than these lovely shores. with the salt air blowing over the sea channel between them: and nothing upon its smaller scale could ! be more Norwegian. At the back of the mountains lies 8. country where the tourist is far less known than in the furthest valleys of the Tyrol. Here in the very hollow of. the land lies wide green basin of shelving fields and rocky
 ridges shut in by the dark sweep of the hills serrating the skyline between them and the outer world on every side. The town of Rathfriland, conspicuous for miles around, is pitched upon hill so high and abrupt that you might al-
 most expect to get up to the market | place by ladders rather than by the steep struggling streets, which it throws out like tentacles on every side. | The lonely church of Kilcoo is a Swiss vignette nestling near the base of the great green hills above. All around the land Is fair, even where the soil is poor and the very bones of the granite seems to be working up through the l soil. The fields of flax toss and wave, sprinkled with the fairy-like bells of their blue blossoms; the flowers of the
 potato fields are purple. and white; the
 golden stars of the marigold are rife,
 and flashing among the oats in a way i that Is the despair of the farmer, and
 would be an intoxication to a painter 1 like M. La Thangue.
 l The wild flowers alone would make i the beauty of the land. Meadowsweet
 scents the air for miles. All down the lanes thick honeysuckle tangles the
 hedgerow. Blue scabious and yellow | catsear spread their brilliant galaxy
 everywhere, at your feet, and even the
 common bugle, so lowly in our fields
 and by our roadside, grows in the coun-
 try at the back of the mountains to
 stature of green stem and purple state of blossom Once known, the Mourne
 Mountains and their neighborhood will
 be recognized, with the Donegal high lands and the Giants Causeway coast,
 as one of the most picturesque play
 grounds of Ulster-one bourne to which
 many travellers return.-London Tele- | graph.