The Intermountain Catholic. (Salt Lake City [Utah] ;) 1899-1920, 1903-11-28
HwbeeI In ireland
Copyright, 1903, by John \. BIacIl)
PART VIII.
Ely EOHN a. BLACK

AT o'clock we sailed down the Liffey and out
into Dublin bay past EIowth Head, peninsula
crowned by Howth hill, and past Ireland's Eye
. little island above Heath Head As Howth Head
is under Irclands Eye, it must be Ireland's nose
which she was blowing Justify al. Us as we passed
the light house, i'll long fog-horn snorts which
reminded me of Deacon MacWmns blasts just be-
fore the sermon Sabbath morning.
a few days later | walked up and poking out of
my stateroom saw that was back again at the
North wall in Dublin; and was alone for Escua-
Plus and had grasped hands in Liverpool the dav
before and said goodby TO each other till we should
meet again beyond the wide stormy ocean. God
willing; said goodby well as we could with Jumps
in threats, and heavlness in our hearts, and if
we had not cut it short. | suspect both of US
certainly Escuapius-should have disgraced our
selves with tears Tor we were in no state to stand
the wrench-our stoicism having given away be-
fore repeated attacks of inconsistencies
The boat which brought me over from Liver
pool was a vcritabe Noah's ark in the variety of
It's cargo There were dozen motor cars-it was
the day before the great international motor race
and with them were caretakers and don't-care-
for-anybody drivers and their friends, all dressed
in outlandsh fashion, besides there were chaps
with single eyeglasses and brains to match: the
other animals such as horses, cattle and pack of
dogs whose quarters were near enough to my state
room to bedog my sleep most of the night. But
there was no Jonah on board so we got safely over
And Ireland was all sunshine to welcome me back
About noon [ got off in the long, struggling
procession of motor cars, motor cycles and bicycles
which was moving out toward Kilcullen and the
motor race territory. 1t was q fine day, and the
ride out Thomas street. James street past Klmain-
ham prison, and through Goldenbridge, Rathcoole
and Kill to Mas, delightful that [ grew
sentimental and vowed to Erin to scold again.
rain or shine; and the next morning was cold and
cloudy-and | grumbled-and Erin wept The
few villages on this road are small and dlapdated
and many of the houses along the way were vacant
and falling down. Mas is said to be one of the
oldest towns in Ireland; and it was once royal
town-a residence of the kings of Lenster, whose
retinues filed its streets Today far different
herd is here; king and gallowgass are gone, and
the devil anyhow-who, with masked faces and
strange, unearthly dress, shoot about on dust-be-
grimed, painting wheeling snorting internal ma
chimes, filling the town with the odor of the pit;
Mas is pandemonium let loose
It is the weighing-in station for the racing ears
which draws the crowd here There are English
men, Frenchmen, Germans and Americans with
their long, low ferce-lookng racing cars; and here
and there is to be seen an Irishman, with his meek
looking donkey in striking contrast with the scene
about him. From motor car to donkey is a long
way, measured by speed; but measured by relia
bity and safety, it is not far, for the motor
has some tricks which the most precocious donkeys
have never learned.
Late in the afternoon, as l lay by the roadside
stricken by loneliness in the midst of much life,