The Intermountain Catholic. (Salt Lake City [Utah] ;) 1899-1920, 1903-10-31
HWbeeI in ireland.
BY John III. Black.

fine sight to see the crowd of men pour
out into the street, and scatter over
, the hills, and down the valleys again.
One strong voiced man climbed up on
the stone fence in front of the church
and advertised the sale of some mead
oW which was to take place during the
week.
A priest whom 1 met told me that
! there was only about nine or ten Prot
estants in the parish of Inchegeela.
There were only four at the Protestant
service this Sunday morning. In the
course of a conversation with one who
seemed to be the leading Protestant of
the parish, I asked him how the few
Protestants got on with the Catholics,
and he said their relations were most
kindly and cordial. ''They are fine
neighbors to US he said. When we
have a funeral in our church they at
tend it as if it were one Of their own,
which is quite different state of
I affairs from what some alarmists
would have us believe must exist in a
community with Catholic supremacy.
The ten mile ride from Inchigeela to
1 Gouganabarra takes US through some
rough country whose stern look is soft
ened by the pleasant waters of the
River Lee which spread out for three
winds along among rocks and hills
keeping close to the north shore of
the lake. On the left is the narrow.
irregular lake. across which to the
south, are the Sheehy mountains, whose
northern outposts Of rOck-bOund hills
come up 10 the waters edge. To our
right, stretching down from the north,
almost crowding the road into the lake
at places. are hills and rocks. The
road is alive with men and boys on
foot and many cart loads, on their
way to or from church. The men all
salute US with the friendly ''la breagh,'
which we correctly but ignorantly an
sNer with yes, SIR till we find lad
who translates it for us in the Eng
lish, fine day At the west end Of
Allua is Bealanageary, a small village
with an old church standing back of
some evergreen trees.
About three miles beyond Bealana-
geary we left the main road, and be-
gan the steep climb of nearly d mile to
the summit, from which We dropped
down to the edge Of Lone Gougane-
barra," girt about with
Its zone of dark hills
In the middle of the small lake is the
famous island which is reached by a
narrow strip of land running out from
the shore. This island is regarded by
I the devout as one of the most sacred
/ places in Ireland for here the sanity
Finn Barr lived and whispered God,
previous to his going to what is now
Cork: and following so illustrious an
example other holy men have lived
here: and tens Of thousands have come
here to pray.
The object of greatest interest on
the island is the Shrine of st. Finn
Barr. Thick walls of stone seven or
eight feet high in which are several
arched cells, surround the sacred spot.
All around the wall are tablets marking
stations of the cross. In the center of
the enclosure is pyramid Of stone on
the top of which is a cross with an
inscription saying that st. Finn Barr
stood on this spot. Nearby, almost hid
by trees and bushes, are some remains
of two very ancient churches, the altar
end of one of which is marked by Il
fiat stone, and is a favorite place TO
pray. There is q new chapel, almost
completed, which is modelled after the
famous Chapel of Cormac on the Rock
Of Cashel. A Celtic cross in memory
Of Callahan, the poet of Gouganebarra, !
stands near the well whose waters are
reputed to be healing.
Surely no one with a devout spirit !
and any imagination at all, could stand !
on this little island, knowing its his |
tory, and not feel reverent. 1t is, in |
deed, place to pray; one almost in
stinctively 'lifs up his eyes to the +
hills" from this place which nature has |
walled off from the world by the great |
mountains which crowd round the little |
lake like mailed knights guarding its
sacred island, hallowed by the tread |
Of reverent feet for thirteen centuries.
One who had been at Gouganebarra
In the rainy season when
In deep-vallied Desmond a thousand
wild fountains
Came down TO that lake from their
home in the mountains"
told me that Callanan's description is
truth as we'll as poetry, and that the
thousand wild fountains roaring down |
all about one makes a scene almost
terrifying at first, but unspeakably I
grand. The Lee rises in the mountains
some two miles west, and the little
stream winding down across the glen
into Gouganeharra lake bears the IA
nous name, as well as when its swollen
flood joins the great ocean. We had
seen the noble river proudly bearing
great ships on its bosom, spanned by
great arched bridges, and now we stand
where step takes us over it.
Continued Next Week.