ON B (J. . . ■^^^^C^~, V THE AUTHOR. The Truth About Ireland OR Through the Emerald Isle With an Aeroplane. BY ALEXANDER CORKEY AUTHOR OF "The Victory of Allan Rutledge— A Tale of the Middle West." WITH AN INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER SHOWING THE BRIGHT FUTURE OF IRELAND BY HON. WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN. Published by Shockley Bros. & Cook. Oskaloosa, Iowa. Published in London, England, by Richard J. James, Publisher, London House Yard, St. Paul's, E. C. 5£9562 SE P 19 074 *25?S COLLEGE ub-^ DEDICATED TO MESSRS. WILBUR AND ORVILLE WRIGHT, INVENTORS OF THE AEROPLANE AND CONQUERORS OF THE AIR ■itf* COPYRIGHT, I9IO, BY ALEXANDER CORKEY ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Contents PAGE CHAPTER INTRODUCTORY BY HON. W. J. BRYAN - 13 I. THE BEGINNING OF MY AEROPLANE TRIP THROUGH IRELAND - " " " 1& II. FLYING OVFR KILLARNEY IN AN AIRSHIP - 26 III. OUR EXPERIENCES IN COUNTY KERRY - - 33 IV. A THRILLING VISIT IN CONNEMARA - - $ 9 V. ALMOST A DISASTER - - - - 45 VI. FROM WESTPOINT TO ENNISKILLEN - - 49 VII. A DAY IN ENNISKILLEN ... - 55 VIII. CIRCLING OVER LONDONDERRY IN AN AEROPLANE ----- 60 IX. ALIGHTING AT THE GIANT'S CAUSEWAY - 67 X. OUR REST ON THE ANTRIM COAST - - 73 XI. A FLIGHT IN AN AEROPLANE WITH AN IRISH GIRL ----- 80 XII. OVER AND AROUND BELFAST . - - 87 XIII. ALIGHTING IN DROGHEDA - 93 XIV. WITH FRIENDS IN DUBLIN - - - 98 XV. GUESTS IN AN IRISH HOME - - - 104 XVI. AROUND THE CAPITAL CITY OF IRELAND - HI XVII. WICKLOW, THE GARDEN OF IRELAND 115 XVIII. BACK AGAIN TO CORK - - - - 123 XIX. OUR LAST DAY IN IRELAND. SEEING TIP- PER ARY ------ 12T List of Illustrations FRONTISPIECE, THROUGH THE EMERALD ISLE WITH AN AEROPLANE, BLARNEY CASTLE, AN IRISH CABIN, LONDONDERRY, IRELAND, GIANT'S CAUSEWAY, DUNLUCE CASTLE, - AN IRISH JAUNTING CAR, AN IRISH VILLAGE, "BEGORRA, IT'S A FOINE BURD," The Author Opposite Page 24 Opposite Page 32 Opposite Page 40 Opposite Page 60 Opposite Page 74 Opposite Page 82 Opposite Page 96 Opposite Page 120 Opposite Page 132 Preface *"pHE aeroplane is man's latest invention. Through it man has become lord of the air. The steamship and steam engine had already given him victory over sea and land. Now he is complete master of the situation. One of the most delightful uses of the aeroplane is in sight- seeing. Aerial tourist travel will soon become popular, as a bird's-eye view of a country is the most satisfactory of all. For several reasons, however, many will be unable to enjoy this latest luxury, traveling in the body, but with the mind every- one who desires can enjoy in the following pages, an aeroplane trip through Ireland, fairest of all lands. This mental excursion in the aeroplane has obvious advan- tages over a like physical experience, as everv aeronaut will cheer- fully acknowledge. Future aerial travelers over Erin will be able to witness to the truthfulness of this bird's-eye view of Ireland, and I trust the historical allusions will add to the interest of our survey of the island's lovely scenes. The visits to Irish homes, and the glimpses of Irish character will also, I am sure, be enjoyed. I wish to thank Hon. William Jennings Bryan for the Intro- ductory Chapter, in which, from the viewpoint of a practical statesman, he shows the bright future of the Emerald Isle. The full account of this famous visit of his to Ireland was published in the Commoner, which owns the copyright. THE AUTHOR. Introductory Chapter SHOWING THE BRIGHT FUTURE OF IRELAND BY HON. WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN W Y visit to Ireland was too. brief to enable me to look into the condition of the tenants in the various parts of the island, but by the courtesy of the Lord Mayor of Dublin, Mr. Timothy Harrington, and Mr. John Dillon, both mem- bers of Parliament, I met a number of the prominent representatives of Ireland in national politics. It is true that home rule has not yet been secured, but the contest for home rule has focused attention upon the industrial and political condition of Erin, and a num- ber of remedial measures have been adopted. First, the tenant was given title to his improve- ments and then the amount of the rent was judicially determined. More recently the authorities have been building cottages for the rural laborers. Over 15,000 oi these cottages have already been erected and arrange- ments are being made for some 19,000 more. These are much more comfortable than the former dwellings, and much safer from a sanitary point of view. The recent Land Purchase Act, which went into effect on 14 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND November first, (1903), seems likely to exert a very great influence upon the condition of the people. Ac- cording" to its terms the Government is to buy the land from the landlord and sell it to the tenants. As the Government can borrow money at a lower rate than the ordinary borrower, it is able to give the tenant much better terms than he gets from his present landlord, and at the same time purchase the land of the landlord at a price that is equitable. The landlords are showing a disposition to comply 1 with the spirit of the law, although some of them are attempting to get a larger price for their land than it was worth prior to the passage of the law. The purpose of the law is to remove from politics the landlord question, which has been a delicate one to deal with. Most of the larger estates were given to the an- cestors of the present holders, and many of the owners live in England and collect their rents through a local agent. The new law makes the Government the land- lord; and the tenant, by paying a certain annual sum for 63 years, becomes the owner of the fee. He has the privilege of paying all, or any part, at any time, and can dispose of his interest. The settlement which is now being effected not only removes the friction which has existed between the ten- ant and the landlord, but puts the tenant in a position where he can appeal to the Government with reasonable certainty of redress in case unforeseen circumstances make his lot harder than at present anticipated. THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 15 The assurance that he will become the owner of the fee will give to the Irish farmer an ambition that has heretofore been wanting, for he will be able to save without fear of an increase in the rent. Not only is the land question in process of settle- ment, but there has been at the same time other im- provements which make for the permanent progress of the people. There is a constant increase in educational facilities, and a large number of co-operative banks have been established. Agricultural societies have been form- ed for the improvement of crops and stock, and the trend is distinctly upward. The Irish leaders have not obtainr- ed all that they labored for — there is much to be secured before their work is complete, but when the history of Ireland is written, the leaders now living will be able to regard with justifiable pride the results of their devo^ tion and sacrifice and their names will be added to 1 the long list of Irish patriots and statesmen. In Dublin I paid my respects to Lord Dudley, Lieu- tenant Governor of Ireland, whose residence, the Vicere- gal Lodge, is in Phoenix Park, and found him so> genial and affable a host that I am led to hope that in his ad- ministration of the executive branch of the Government he will make the same attempt at just treatment that parliament has made in the enactment of the recent land measures. Dublin is a very substantial looking city and much more ancient in appearance than Belfast, the latter re- 16 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND minding one more of an enterprising American city. We did not have a chance to visit any of the industries of Dublin, and only a linen factory and a shipyard in Belfast, but as the linen factory, The York Street Linen Mills, was one of the largest in Ireland, and the ship- yard, Harland and Wolff's, the largest in the world, they gave some idea of the industrial possibilities of the island. Queenstown, Ireland, the first town to greet the tourist when he reaches Northern Europe and the last to bid him farewell when he departs, is a quaint and in- teresting old place. Here the returning traveller has a chance to spend any change which he has left, for black- thorn canes and shillelahs, "Robert Emmett" and "Harp of Erin" handkerchiefs and lace collars are offered in abundance. At Queenstown one can hear the Irish brogue in all its richness and, if he takes a little jaunt about the town, he can enjoy the humor for which the Irish are famed. To one accustomed to the farms of the Mississippi and the Missouri valleys, the little farms of Ireland seem contracted indeed, but what they lack in size they make up in thoroughness of cultivation. The farm houses are not large, but from the railroad train they looked neat and well kept. There is a general desire among the leaders of thought in Ireland to check the emigration from that country. They feel that Ireland, under fair conditions, THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 17 can support a much larger population than she now has. Ireland, they say, has been drained of many of its most enterprising and vigorous sons and daughters. It is hardly probable that the steps already taken will entirely check the movement towards the United States, but there is no doubt that the inhabitants of Ireland and their friends across the water contemplate the future With Brighter Hopes and Anticipations than they have for a centurv. The Truth About Ireland CHAPTER I BEGINNING OF MY AEROPLANE TRIP THROUGH IRELAND ^77^ T all happened in this way. Early last sum- T| Vx mer I was travelling- through Ohio and came fpy, g\ to the prosperous city of Dayton. While spending a few days visiting in this enter- prising city, a friend met me, and proposed to call on the Wright Brothers, who had won wide fame as the men who knew how to 1 fly. I was rather skeptical about a man contesting the atmosphere with the fowls of the air. I had a private opinion that Mother Earth was meant for man, and that the nearer he kept to it the better. I went to see these aeronauts with a prejudice against the flying business. We soon found the air-ship factory, and we, were introduced to Mr. Wilbur Wright. He greeted us very cordially, and even took us around his factory, showing us an aeroplane and explaining its workings. I was astonished at the simplicity of the airship and was im- pressed with the enthusiasm of the successful young aeronaut. I began to thaw out. I asked a lot of ques- tions. Before half an hour had passed by I was a con- vert to the flying business, and made up my mind that Mr. Wright was a "bird." He had discovered not only how to fly, but also 1 , which is more important, how to light. THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 19 That was the beginning of my interest in aero- planes. I do not expect that anything wonderful would have come out of my Dayton experience had I not jour- neyed the next week to New York State to visit an old- time friend, Mr. Mike Connor. Naturally, I began to display my new-found knowledge about aeronautics on the first opportunity. To my great surprise I found that Mr. Connor was also an enthusiastic aeroplanist. I found he knew all about flying. When I expressed won- der at his knowledge of this recent art of cleaving the heaven's blue, he told me he had been studying the mat- ter for a long time. He said he could get few of his friends to take any stock in this latest victory o>f man over nature, and he was delighted to find me a sympa- thetic listener to his descriptions of the coming uses of flying machines. Looking carefully around the room, as if to see that no unfriendly ear could hear, he finally confessed to me in a stage whisper: "I have an aeroplane oi my own. I bought it two months ago, and I can now fly with it beautifully." "Good," I cried, "let me see it." He at once took me out to the shed where he kept the "bird." I looked it over with intense interest, which pleased my good friend, Mike, (as I must call him) very much. It was a Wright aeroplane, about the same size as the one Mr. Wilbur Wright had shown me' at Dayton. The two main planes, like the top and bottom of a 20 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND street car, were 40 feet long, and 7 feet wide. The dis- tance between the upper and lower planes was 6 feet. These planes were covered with a stout cloth, like tent cloth. There were, two small horizontal planes in front, controlled by levers, by which the aeroplane was raised or lowered at will when it was in the air. At the rear there was also a double set of planes, vertically placed, to assist in turning the airship, just as a helm turns a ship in the water. Motion was generated by two large pro- pellers, seven feet long, made of spruce wood, which ran in opposite directions. Power was furnished by a compact, 25-horse power motor, which Mike, whom I knew to be an expert with gasoline engines, said was one of the best he ever handled. "Just as reliable as steam," he assured me, when I spoke of the unreliability of the ordinary motor. Mike explained to me hew to start, how to rise and descend, and how to turn in the air. I asked him why he had not let me know about this new treasure before, and he told me his friends to. whom he had spoken about it had treated him so coldly, that he had ceased to mention the matter, but he had quietly been practising with his machine until now he was able to fly anywhere. There was a large meadow back of his house, surrounded by thick groves, and in this se- cluded spot he had spent weeks perfecting himself in the art of flying. As it was too ; late that day for a flight he promised THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 21 to take me on my first jaunt among the clouds next morning. I had known Mike Connor since he was a boy. His father had left him a lot of money, but he was not the usual wild kind of heir. He looked after his estate closely, but, having a heap of time on his hands, he was always ready for a diversion. When the bicycles first came out, he had two or three of the finest makes. He was the very first in his neighborhood to purchase an automobile, and he' soon became an expert with his motor car. Accordingly, I was not surprised to know that he had so soon mastered the use of the aeroplane. When we came back to the house he asked me sud- denly : "Jack, what are you going to do this summer?" "I have been planning," I replied, "to take a run across the fish pond and visit old Ireland again." "Good," he fairly shouted. I looked at him a little curiously, wondering why he was so interested in my visit to the Emerald Isle. "Let us go together," he continued enthusiastically, "and take the aeroplane." This was certainly a novel proposition, and I laughed so heartily at the idea of flying through Ireland that Mike got impatient. "Don't you think we can do it?" he asked. "Let us wait till morning," I answered evasively, "and we will see about it." Mike's face fell, and I 22 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND could see he thought I was not a thorough convert to the aeroplane art. There is something of the Scotchman about me, and I wanted to know a little more about the "bird" business before I started on a vacation trip with wings. An Irish bog would not be a bad place for an aeronaut to alight in case he had to descend unceremoniously, but I didn't want to spoil a nice outing in Ireland by breaking my neck trying to fly. The next morning we were up with the birds and soon had the aeroplane all ready for a flight. The Wright aeroplane ascends from a "starting rail," which is merely a stout board turned up on end. The meadow was an ideal place to fly. It was an immense level field, about half a mile long, and quarter of a mile broad. I had all confidence in Mike and had no reason to believe he meant to destroy me, but I was just a little shaky as I climbed up into the second seat over the motor. Mike vaulted easily into his seat, started the motor, and in a few seconds we were off. I can never describe the excitement of the next ten minutes. We rose to- the height of about 80 feet, and then sailed rapidly round and round the field. The sensation of flying was something entirely new. I was exhilarated, charmed, delighted. After I became a little used to it I was able to observe the field below, which glided under us with marvelous speed. THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 23 After ten minutes of this thrilling experience Mike decided to land, as he did not wish to try my nerves too severely the first time. The landing was perfect. Mike shut off the motor at a height of 70 feet, and the aero- plane came gliding down like a big bird. I could not tell just when we came to earth, so gently did the airship alight. It glided along on its runners for a short dis- tance and then came quietly to a stop. I stepped out on the grass like a man in a dream 1 . "How did you like it?" asked Mike. For answer I fairly hugged him. He was pleased and asked at once about a trip through Ireland. "It would be grand," I exclaimed, "let us go." We had several other flights together and we were both confident that we could have a glorious time in the Emerald Isle with an airship. We soon completed our arrangements. The aero- plane was taken to pieces and carefully packed. Each box was marked "Queenstown." In three weeks' time we were ready to- start. We booked on the Lusitania, and, as the boxes, in which our aeroplane was stored, were taken on board as baggage, we landed in five days at Queenstown, airship and all. I had crossed the. Atlantic several times before, but this voyage was the most exciting- of all. We sat on deck and talked of our plans when we landed. Mike was sure of his ability to fly a day at a time, and so we outlined a strenuous program. I was well acquainted 24 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND with Ireland, and I had marked our stopping places as we would fly through the island. Sometimes fear of failure would take possession of my mind. The whole thing was so novel. Such a thing as flying round a country on a sight-seeing trip had never been attempted. I was fearful I had been rash. A talk with Mike always sent these fears to the winds. He had no fears whatever. As Mike was to have the chief share in piloting our airship, I decided to take generous notes and prepare a full account of the places we visited and our most ex- citing experiences as we flew over the green fields of Erin. From these notes I have prepared for the world the account of our trip which is found in the following chapters. We had not breathed a word about our plans to anyone on board during our voyage across the Atlantic, and when we landed at Queenstown we quietly sent on our ''baggage" to Cork, and followed ourselves that evening. We had planned to begin our flight from Cork. We expected to- fly around the island in a couple of days and then visit some attractive places one by one. We were compelled to change this plan, as we shall see. After a good night's rest at the Imperial Hotel in Cork, we "assembled," as aeronauts say, the various parts of our airship the next morning on a level field just outside the city. We avoided the public as much as possible, and the H X 70 o c a x H X rn rn rn 70 > r a (7 r m > z > m 70 o r THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 25 few people who came around found us non-committal, -and wondered what we were doing. In the evening when we were left alone, about nine o'clock, (it is still quite light at this time in Ireland during July) we made a short trial ascent. Our first flight beneath the kindly Irish skies was a complete suc- cess. Everything was working beautifully. Well satisfied with our first day's work we returned to our hotel for the night. Our plan was to fly the first day as far as the Giant's Causeway, going up the West side of the island. On the second day we expected to return to Cork and make trips here and there after that. We had another good night's rest, and rose with the sun, or rather a little before it. We found our aero- plane in the field as we left it, and after carefully ex- amining every part, Mike said : "All right, Jack. Let us start." I climbed up on my seat. Mike started the motor. The machine began to move along the starting rail, and rose like a bird. When we had gone up to about the height of 200 feet we circled around over Cork. In the dawning light we could see the strange tower of the Church of Saint Mary Shandon, St. Patrick's Street, and the beautiful Cathedral of St. Finbar's. I could also distinguish Queen's College. Turning in a northwestern direction, Mike said to me : "Now we're off." We were speeding through the air towards Killarney. CHAPTER II FLYING OVER KILLARNEY IN AN AIRSHIP ^" V "~"Y77 T was just 4 130 by my watch as we started Tf \Y from Cork on that eventful nth day of J) July. There was good daylight, but the ~^^ city was still wrapped in its slumbers. It was a beautiful summer morning and our spirits rose with the aeroplane. We began the strangest trip through Ireland that was ever made by man. I can never forget the sight of the green fields of County Cork that morning. It was a scene of peaceful loveliness. The first place of interest we passed over was Blar- ney Castle, which is only five miles from Cork. We swept directly over the famous ruin, and I had a strange feeling as I looked down on the far-famed fortress from my aerial seat. As I had been at Blarney Castle before I was able to locate that part of the wall where the Blarney Stone is seen. I tried to point it out to Mike, but, before I could get the place described, we had flown over it. We learned that to describe anything like that on the aeroplane you have to look as far ahead as pos- sible. I had no idea the country around Blarney was so beautiful until I had a good bird's eye view of it. I was convinced that we would see all the scenic beauties of Ireland from our aeroplane as they had never been seen before. THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 27 The distance from Cork to Killarney is 50 miles as the crow flies, and as we were now traveling - like crows we measured distances as they did. We could see the River Lee at our left as it meandered through the neat farms and little fields of the Cork farmers. The pleas- ant-looking" cottages fairly flew beneath us. We were surprised to see so much of County Cork under cultiva- tion, as we expected to see it all in grazing land. I found out later that under the beneficent new Land Laws most of these small farmers now own their own farms, and that this part of Ireland is prospering. It was a perfect picture that met our gaze as we looked around. The small fields were divided with thick hedges, or stone walls, sometimes with a wall of earth. Groves were frequent. Here and there a lordly mansion peered out at us through the trees. Quite a distance to, our left we could see Macroom, where the railroad from Cork ends. It look- ed so' quiet and still in that region that morning that I was reminded that there was a tradition that the gentle Quaker, William Penn, was born there. Penn's father had a seat at Macroom, but I think the young William gave his first cry in London. At least, I once saw the font in a London church in which he was immersed as a tiny infant. "Now for the mountains," said Mike, as the Kerry hills drew near. Their peaks loomed up before us big as the Himalayas. Mike began to raise the airship higher and higher. 28 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND Right here I want to confess that often throughout the whole trip in this aeroplane with Mike I had shaky feelings that were a little unpleasant. Once in a while in imagination I could see myself tumbling over and over to the ground, like a wounded bird. Nor were my fears altogether groundless, as we shall see. If Mike had any such apprehensions he never said a word to me about it. I rather think he was so busily engaged con- stantly with the operation of the aeroplane that he had little time to think of anything else. I had much bet- ter chance to see the country than he did, but I also had more time on my hands during- which I could conjure up all kinds of disasters. I well remember that, as we rose to a dizzy height, in order to clear the Kerry Moun- tains, I had almost a nervous attack. For a moment I shut my eyes and heartily wished I was on the earth again. If I could have gotten safely to land just then, I am fraid that all the gold in Ophir would not have tempted me to 1 fly ag'ain. I was roused by a cry from Mike. "Look," he fairly shouted, "isn't that grand?" I opened my eyes quickly and saw Mike, with his face all aglow, gazing on a high peak which we soon recognized as Mount Mangerton. It towered far above us, high as we were, for this peak is over 2,700 feet high. Soon the Devil's Punch- bowl, another high mountain peak, with a flat top, came into view. This mountain, which is over 2,600 feet THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 29 high, is easily recognized. Formerly it was a volcano, but long ago burnt itself out. The crater is now filled with clear, cold spring water, which is piped to the vil- lage of Killarney. It is surely an Irishism to call this beautiful water from this huge natural reservoir the "devil's punch." We were looking so intently on these great hills that we crossed the crest of the divide before we were aware. All at once Mike startled me again. "In the name of all that is great, look there," he ex- claimed. Never can I forget the sight that lay before us as I lowered my eyes and caught my first glimpse of the Vale of Killarney. The panorama was one of surpass- ing loveliness. There was no fear whatever in my heart now. All was wonder, admiration, delight. The three Killarney Lakes lay embosomed among the towering hills. The Lakes are fully eleven miles long and at one place two and a half miles broad. Magnificent forests fringe them on every side, and over sixty wooded is- lands float in the charmed waters. Just ahead of us was Muckross Abbey. This ancient Abbey was founded in 1440' by the McCarthys, and is a notable ruin. The walls and tower are in good condition. We could see the ivy glisten in the morning light from the top of the tower, and I caught a passing glimpse of the gigan- tic yew tree, nearly fourteen feet in circumference, which every visitor to Muckross Abbey will remember. 30 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND "Hurrah for old Ireland," cried Mike, as we glided down to within 150 feet of the waters of the Upper Lake. We soon rose again to about 300 feet above the water, as this gave us the 'best view, and at this altitude we sailed triumphantly along the entire course of the Lakes. Here we first noticed the effect that an aeroplane had on the ordinary denizens of the earth. It was now 6 :oo o'clock, and some early risers among the tourists at Killarne)^ were enjoying the marvels of a Killarney morning along the banks. We could hear their excited exclamations as they caught sight of us, but we flew on majestically. We soon passed the two smaller Lakes, which are joined by short narrow streams, and discerned Ross Castle clothing itself with all the glories of a morning of sunshine as it has done, every! time it has had a chance, for 600 years. I say "every time it has had a chance" advisedly, for all who are acquainted with Kil- larney weather know that this fine ruin is often com- pelled to clothe itself with morning mists and rain. Ross Castle was on our right and, beyond it, we could see Kenmare House, the home of the Earl of Ken- mare, who owns Killarney. It is situated in the midst of a lovely park, with beautiful gardens, covering fully 1900 acres of woodland and lawn. However, as Mike and I sailed past it in our airship we would not have exchanged places with the Earl himself. Beyond Ken- THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 31 mare House we could see Killarney village straggling along amongst the trees. We were now crossing the Lower Lake, which is the largest, being nearly six miles long. We turned to our left and gazed with awe at the towering peaks which enclose this scene of beauty. The shifting of the light among the hills was glorious. Look- ing over our shoulders to the left we caught sight of Carntual, over 3,400 feet high, the highest mountain in Ireland. Altogether there are six prominent peaks, and as they rise from the level they make a majestic scene. We passed directly over the Innisfallen island. This large and beautiful island in the Lower Lake covers twenty-one acres and from above it looked like "a beau- tiful miniature of a beautiful country." We could see the famous ruins of Innisfallen Abbey on the island. This Abbey was founded in 600 by St. Finian, and it is one of the oldest ecclestiastical ruins in Erin. The Irish poet, Thomas Moore, has immortalized this little Island in his ode: "Sweet Innisfallen, fare thee well." After passing Innisfallen we discussed our further route. Mike wanted to circle over the Lakes again, but I objected. I wanted to carry away the remembrance of Killarney as I had seen it for the first time from an aeroplane. I was afraid a second look would take away some of the charm, Mike also wanted to go up the Gap of Dunloe, but I also objected to this, as I wished to hur- ry on direct to the North of Ireland that day. We com- 32 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND promised by agreeing to turn around at the north end of the lakes, and make a circle over the north part of Lower Lake, while we took our last look at Killarney's Vale. When we had finally turned our backs on the glori- ous scene and Mike started north over the high plains, I repeated softly : "Beauty's home, Killarney, Heaven's reflex Killarney. Angels fold their wings and rest In this Eden of the West." Mike roused me rudely from my dreams by remark- ing : "These two angels haven't folded their wings from the looks of things. See how the ground flies past." I laughed good-naturedly and gradually woke up from the spell of the beauteous Lakes of Killarney. I pulled out my watch. It was 6 :2c A short time later we caught sight of the railroad between Killarne}^ and Tralee and followed it about ioo feet above the tracks. CHAPTER III OUR EXPERIENCES IN COUNTY KERRY S we winged our way above the railroad ties we rested after the excitement of Killarney. We were now in the heart of Kerry. This part of Ireland is not as prosperous as some other parts. The land is hilly and rocky. Fences are generally made of stone. The little cottages are also built of stone, thatched with straw. We could see the stack of peats beside them to be used as fuel, and the little potato patch which furnished food. Blue smoke was beginning to curl in the air from some of these cabins, telling us that rural Ireland was awakening for another day of life, such as it is. Of all the sensations that ever visited Ireland, we surely were the greatest in modern times. We were much amused to see the different ways in which our ap- pearance in the air was greeted. Sometimes the child- ren (plentiful throughout all Ireland) would be playing in front of the cabin. As they heard the noise of our motor we could see them stop their play and gaze at us in amazement, and then, with a yell, all would dive at once for the door of their home. The mother, generally with a baby in her arms, would appear quickly. Some- times the woman would shriek, like the children, and run inside again. At other times we noticed the women 34 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND get down on their knees, as in prayer. Once or twice, the woman ran out and waved her arms at us, as though in greeting. The men generally looked stolidly at us in mute amazement. We had an exciting time when passing a morning train coming from Tralee. We could see it smoking in the distance, and to avoid a collision, as Mike said, we turned the aeroplane about ioo feet to the right side of the track. The engineer caught sight of us first, and signalled us with a number of toots on his whistle. The tooting brought the passengers to the windows and soon heads were sticking out along the side of the train from one end to the other. They waved their hats, handker- chiefs, umbrellas, newspapers, and I saw one old gentle- man vigorously shaking a book at us. I took out my handkerchief and waved it in return. The engineer kept tooting his whistle until he was far past us. We watched the little Kerry cows, which looked carefully for any stray vegetation to be found in the Kerry uplands, for we had heard that the Kerry cow never looks up, for fear it would lose a bite. Certainly none looked up at us. Cows and men have a serious time of it in Kerry, forcing a churlish soil for daily food. Many of the men in Kerry spend part of the year in England working there, while the wives and children look after the cabbage and potato patches. We saw pigs and goats, and a few sheep around some of the cottages. The English Government has a Board, called the THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 35 Congested Districts' Board, which is at present doing excellent work in assisting the people of Kerry and others of these hilly western counties. This board aids in migration to other parts of Ireland, if it is found nec- essary, and also assists in developing the country as far as is possible. Breeds of stock are improved through its help, and industries, such as rug-making, lace-making and basket-making, are encouraged. This Board has also been useful in developing the fisheries industry on the west coast by constructing landing places and equip- ping boats for the fishermen. As the morning advanced, and the entire population had aroused itself we were kept in a state of continual amusement by the excitement we caused, as we whizzed across the solitary moors. I felt real sympathy with Bridget, who., as she walked from the wedding altar on Pat's arm, whispered to him : "If we could only stand and see ourselves now, wouldn't it be hivin, Pat?" I felt if we could only see ourselves from the ground and hear the comments of the natives our bliss would have been full. We passed Tralee at 6:35. This is a pretty town situated on Tralee Bay. There are many beautiful resi- dences in its neighborhood. Lord Kirchener was born here. We were 200 feet in the air when we swept at full speed over the closely built houses of the town. We •could see a few people stirring on the streets and they 36 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND looked up at us in wonder, but did not make any mani- festation. Evidently they knew what an aeroplane was. After passing Tralee we kept close to the coast, and soon saw the wide mouth of the river Shannon ahead of us. This is Ireland's largest river, 220 miles long, pour- ing itself into the sea North of County Kerry. The Ker- ry coast is rather bleak and it was with a feeling of relief that we rushed across the wide mouth of the Shannon into County Clare. Here our motor gave its first trouble. As we were crossing the Shannon it alarmed me by beginning to "knock" (as motorists say) and Mike told me the spark- er was not working properly. We had planned to make our first landing at Kilkee on the coast of Clare, and, as this was not far distant, Mike kept on at full speed along the coast. The coast scenery here is rugged and grand. Kilkee is situated at the head of a little bay, called Moore's Bay. When we reached this bay Mike sped clear out over its waters, to my amazement, and then turned up the bay to Kilkee. Coming up the bay we could see much excitement on the shore near the town. People were running down to the shore from all directions. Mike circled over the town, about 300 feet in the air, and then came down on a level stretch of coast beside the village. Kilkee is over 100 miles from Cork, as the crow, or aeroplane, flies. We landed exactly at 8 :oo o'clock. As I stepped from my seat,' I felt stiff and lame, but a little THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 37 exercise straightened me out. Mike busied himself at once with the motor. He began unscrewing the spark plugs and overhauling the whole engine. Meanwhile the crowd kept gathering until, I sup- pose, in ten minutes, the entire town was standing around us open-mouthed. The boys in the crowd closed in on us at once and began asking all sorts of questions. When we told them we were from America the buzz of excitement grew louder, as they thought at first that we had crossed the Atlantic, since we came directly from the sea. Mike, at last, explained that we had only come from Co>rk that morning. This was wonderful enough to them and we heard all kinds of exclamations. "The Saints preserve us," said one good lady, with a shawl wrapped around her head, "what's the world coming to?" "Begorra," said a genuine Irishman, "I never thought they could make a crow out of a man." Some volunteered the information that they had sons, or brothers, in America, and it was not long until the crowd and us were on familiar terms. We hired two honest-looking fellows to' watch the aeroplane, and keep the boys off from' it, while we went down the straggling street of the town, looking for a place to> get some re- freshment. A man, whom one of the bystanders assured us was "the bist man in town," took us in charge and escorted us to his own home. His good wife, a kindly, middle- 38 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND aged Irish woman of the middle class, soon had a cup of hot tea and some "scones" ready for us. This was our first taste of Irish hospitality and it astonished us. We found our host a most companionable man. When we explained our plans about an aeroplane trip all around Ireland, he said : "You Americans can do anything." Our host accompanied us back to the airship where there was still the same wondering crowd. The twO' watchmen were busy keeping the little lads away from the machine. They helped Mike arrange the starting rail, and Mike and I took our seats. Our guards cleared the way. Mike started the motor, and shouted "Goodbye." "Bye-bye," shouted the crowd, in the heartiest way. "Come back again," shouted our host. At this a little boy piped up, to' the amusement of us all "Fly away Jack, fly away Jill; Come back Jack, come back Jill.' Amid cheers we arose lightly from the earth, and were soon speeding once more up the Clare coast to- wards Gal way. We left Kilkee at 9 :oo o'clock. CHAPTER IV A THRILLING VISIT TO CONNEMARA ^"^C^C had read of the grandeur of the Irish sea- Tf I) coast in County Clare, and I asked Mike to /// keep as close to the sea as he could. He "^ obeyed me only too well, half of the time being over the ocean. The rugged cliffs grew more and more picturesque as we neared Hag's Head. After passing over this promontory, the famous Moher Cliffs came into view. These are sheer precipices, fully 600 1 feet high, and, as seen from the ocean, they present a magnificent appear- ance. In passing these cliffs our aeroplane was about 500 feet above the sea, and about 100 feet out from land, so that we saw them to the best advantage. These cliffs stretch along the coast for five or six miles. From the Moher Cliffs we turned landward, in a northeastly direc- tion, as we wished to pass over the city of Galway, and enter the Connemara country from the shores of Lake Corrib. The Clare farms seemed somewhat better than those of Kerry, but not much. We saw many one- room cabins. For many miles we flew about 60 feet over Clare, and I observed the country with interest. Clare and Galway are the present centers of unrest in Ireland'.. There is where "cattle-driving" is practised most. Fences 40 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND are destroyed and large herds of cattle, belonging to some landlord, are scattered over the country roads. The cause of "cattle-driving" is the enmity of the peas- ants toward the landlords who turn their estates into vast grazing farms, thus depriving the peasants of any soil to cultivate. The Government has tried to have the landlords sell out their estates to these landless ones, but some re- fuse to do so, and there is no compulsory legislation at present in the matter of landlords selling to tenants. As these landlords do- not live in Ireland and have little interest in Irish people the Government is now seeking remedial legislation which will compel the land- lord to sell his estate. Absentee landlordism has been Ireland's historic curse for centuries. As one Irishman expressed it : "Ireland has been overrun with absentee landlords." For many years the English Government sought merely to repress the outbreaks of the dissatisfied Irish. Now, an honest attempt is being made to cure the cause of the discontent, and this accounts for these Land Laws, which have proved of such benefit already to the Emerald Isle. Absentee landlords are hard to intimidate by popu- lar outbreaks. On one occasion the angry tenants threatened to shoot the steward of a particularly obnox- ious landlord, and the steward wrote about it to his mas- ter in England. The brave Englishman promptly re- THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 41 plied: ''Tell the tenants that no threat to shoot you will terrify rne." We reached Galway Bay shortly after ten o'clock and fifteen minutes later we were circling- over the an- cient city of Galway. Galway has been called a Dutch city, and its architecture, as we looked clown on it. did seem more varied than the usual plain' style of Irish buildings. We created great excitement as we circled over the city at a height of 150 feet. The motor was acting a little erratic occasionally, and I wanted Mike to alight, but he disliked facing the curious crowds. ''There are lots o>f bogs in County Galway," he said laughingly. "We will light easy on one of them if the motor stops." The river, connecting Lough Corrib and Galway Bay, divides the city into two parts, connected by sev- eral bridges. Crowds rushed out on the bridges as they saw us fly overhead. We could hear them cheering and some one fired off a pistol. This frightened Mike and he started toward Lough Corrib,- like a wild duck which had been bombarded by a hunter. I saw a fine old church in Galway, and I easily recognized Queen's College. It is a noble Gothic build- ing. This is one of the three "godless" Colleges, estab- lished in Ireland by Queen Victoria early in her reign. They are called "g-odless" by the Irish because they have 42 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND no specific religious instruction in their curriculum. The other Queen's Colleges are located at Belfast, and Cork. We were now speeding over Lough Corrib, a large fresh-water lake, where there is excellent fishing. Mike is a keen fisherman and his teeth watered as I told him of Lough Comb's reputation amongst the disciples of Isaac Walton. A few miles from Gal way we turned west into the heart of the far-famed Connemara country. As we swept over this part of Ireland we could see why Conne- mara is so celebrated. It makes a splendid panorama. There are literally hundreds of little lakes, there is grand mountain scenery, there are the heather and peat lands in abundance. We were glad to fly over it, however, rather than live there, for the monotony and barren soil repel a man with an active mind and a good stomach. Men were scarce, but we saw some, mostly at work in the peat lands. We caught sight of some Connemara women also, with red skirts, and Mike said he thought they were shoeless. We went through the pass of Kylemore, called the "Gem of Connemara." Two loity? peaks rise on each side, and, in order to avoid land currents, we had to- rise to a height oi 500 feet in going through. I was astonished to see in this out-of-the-way place a magnificent country home. It was surrounded with THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 43 an immense garden, and the walks and drives were beau- tified with flaming red fuchsia hedges. I hastily referred to my little guide book, and found it was Kylemore Castle, and that an American lady liv- ed there. She was formerly Miss Helena Zimmerman, of Cincinnati, Ohio, but she fell from grace and is now known as the Duchess of Manchester. She must have some pangs of conscience about it, for no' live American girl would live in this solitary region unless as an act of penance for her sins. We (massed close enough to Clifden, the extreme western point in Ireland, to see Clifden Castle, and also the Marconi Station. Marconi found a resting place at Clifden for the weary wireless messages after their long flight across the Atlantic, and he has a large Station here. He also found a resting place at Clifden for his weary heart, as he married Miss O'Brien, a beauty of Western Ireland. We could hear plainly the sending of a wireless mes- sage. It was like a bombardment, report following re- port, like the discharge of artillery. Passing west of the Twelve Pins, a striking group of mountains, we en- tered County Mayo along the seacoast. Skirting Mount Muilrea, 2,685 ^ eet high, we turned northeast to Croagh Patrick. If Ireland's mountains were pressed out, the area of the island would be doubled. County Mayo resembles 44 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND County Clare, and the stone cabins, little fields, and winding roads, are all distinctly Irish. We were now used to the excitement caused every- where as we whirred over the astonished peasants. One Irishman in County Mayo amused us hugely. He must have had ears like an Indian's, for he heard our motor while we were fully a mile behind him. Turning sud- denly, he gave our aeroplane one long look, and then, dropping his bundle on the road, he started to run like a hare, as if to make his escape. It may have been his conscience that troubled him. Mike lowered the aero- plane until we were not more than 25 feet above him, as we shot directly over his head. Just as we passed above him he let out an unearthly shriek. Perhaps it was a retributive act of justice, but, at any rate, a few moments later we were a good deal more scared than the Irishman. CHAPTER V ALMOST A DISASTER Y hand trembles as I recall Croagh Patrick, f V>>\^ and our flight over it. This mountain is ^ ' ^ fully 2,500 feet high, and rises abruptly ^^^^ from the shores of Clew Bay. In many ways it was the most attractive mountain to me in all Ireland. There is a -flat plain, with some ruins, on the top of it, and in former times it was a place of great sanctity. Saint Patrick, after whom the mountain is named, made several pilgrimages to its summit, and here St. Patrick exercised magic power for Ireland's welfare. Here is the record in the historian's own words : "St. Patrick brought together here all the demons, toads, serpents, and other venomous creatures in Ireland and imprisoned them in a deep ravine on the sea front of the mountain, known as Lugnademon (the pit of the demons) as fast as they came in answer to his summons, and kept them safely there until he was ready to destroy them. Then, standing on the summit of the Croagh, St. Patrick, with a bell in hand, cursed them and expell- ed them from Ireland for ever. And every time he rang the bell thousands of toads, adders, snakes, reptiles and other noisome things went down, tumbling neck and heels after each other, and were swallowed up for ever in the sea." 46 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND As we neared Croagh Patrick I bravely asked Mike to sail over its flat top, and see this sacred spot. Mike was ready to do it in a minute. He pulled the levers and we began to ascend, while still over two miles dis- tant from the mountain. Higher and higher we went when we reached an altitude of 2,000 feet, I could feel my heart begin to thump. Timing himself with an accuracy, which astonished me, Mike sailed over the top of Croagh Patrick about 30 feet above the flat plain. He circled around once and we passed close beside the ruin of the ancient chapel. There is also< a large Celtic Cross standing upright on the summit. I was so glad to have old Mother Earth so near once more, that I suggested that we land. Mike was going to- bring the aeroplane down when he remembered that there was no way toi rig up a starting rail on the top of Croagh Patrick, and so we kept on in our flight. A minute afterwards I was sorry we did not alight, anyhow. After his second circle around the flat plain, which is half a mile square, Mike, started east, and in a couple of minutes the earth was 2,500 feet below us. The sud- denness of the appearance of this vast abyss between us and land seemed even to unnerve Mike for a moment. I almost collapsed. Then Mike did a foolish thing. He imagined he could glide down from this height, and he shut of the THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 47 motor. We glided swiftly some 300 feet, and then I could feel the aeroplane begin to sink under us, What happened I do not just know. The first intimation I had of real danger was Mike's face as he quickly turned to start the motor. I could hear the big propellers whiz behind me. In starting the motor, Mike released a lever for an instant. As we were descending with lightning speed this was almost the cause of a fatal disaster. The aeroplane began to rock violently, and I was almost thrown from my seat. The accident to Orville Wright and Lieutenant Selfridge at Washington the year before flashed before my mind. I wondered if Mike could re- gain control of the machine. I caught the sides of my seat and braced myself against the foot-rail. Even then I had difficulty in holding on. I glanced at Mike. His face was pale. His eyes shone. Every muscle and nerve was tense. He was like a rider on a runaway horse, determined to assert his mastery. His self-con- trol was prefect. In spite of Mike's coolness I am surprised we es- caped. As the aeroplane kept sinking and rocking like a ship in a storm, I closed my eyes and resigned myself to my fate. I was aroused by Mike's voice. "A close call, Jack, old boy," he said affectionately. I could see that there were tears in his eyes. He was thinking of me and of my escape. Brave Mike. I want- ed to hug him right there. I looked around and saw we were about 500 feet above ground, the aeroplane gliding smoothly through the air. 48 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND It was fortunate for us there was no breeze to speak of. All that morning, except for a little while on the seacoast, the wind gave us no trouble. I was glad to see Westpoint a few miles ahead, as we had planned to stop there for a lunch, and to replen- ish our supply of gasoline, or petrol, as they call it in Ireland. One good thing came out of our Croagh Patrick experience. I began to help Mike in operating the aero- plane. I took entire charge of the motor, which I could reach more readily than he could, at any rate. This left him free to manage the levers. He was the captain and gave all orders, but I started and stopped the motor the rest of our trip. I found this of advantage to me, especially after the rapid descent from Croagh Patrick, as it gave me something to do, and, when not engaged watching the scenery, or consulting my map or guide-book, I could busy myself with the motor. We had other exciting incidents, but this division of labor assisted us in keeping the aeroplane completely under our control — as long as the motor worked. CHAPTER VI FROM WESTPOINT TO ENNISKILLEN IKE made an excellent landing in an open \>7^ space in a beautiful park beside Westpoint. (T, <3) A small crowd soon gathered around us ^^^^ wnen we lit, but Mike and I paid little atten- tion to them. I stepped out on the ground and looked at my watch. It was one o'clock. We had been in the air four hours. Mike felt the strain of this long aerial journey also, but not so much as I did. He was more accustomed to aeroplaning. Our motor had been acting well, on the whole. It; was a new style motor, without carburetor, and I had been suspicious of it, but it surpassed any motor I had ever seen in reliability. We had just finished stretching out our tired limbs, when a middle-aged man, with a kindly, honest face, but an important air, came hurrying along the driveway of the park in our direction. We heard several in the crowd exclaim : "The Keeper, the Keeper." The new comer looked at us in astonishment and then he inspected our aeroplane. Then he looked at us again, and exclaimed : "By the Powers," We did not know what kind of a salutation this might be, but Mike told what we were doing and why we had alighted in the Park. 50 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND The "Keeper," as they called him, at once became friendly and introduced himself as the Steward of the Marquis of Sligo, in whose park we had alighted and whose mansion was close at hand. The Steward resided at the mansion, as the Marquis did not spend much time on his Irish estate. He invited us to come up to* the mansion, which in- vitation we gladly accepted. Following the Steward, we soon arrived at the stately home of the Marquis of Sligo*, who owns the greater part of this section of Ire- land. He is an absentee landlord, but he comes to West- point occasionally, and he treats his tenants liberally, for an Irish landlord. The large park around his mansion is open to all Westporters. We noticed, from the signs, that automobiles were not allowed to enter the park, but aeroplanes were not excluded, at least, not yet. The Steward served us a good lunch, and sent a boy with a pony-cart to town to get the petrol. The Sligo Mansion is luxuriously furnished, and Mike and I felt like royal travellers. The Steward's kindness was explained when he be- gan to talk about America. He had two brothers in the New World, and told us that tens of thousands of Irish- men from County Mayo and County Galway had left Ireland for America in the past twenty years. Westport is the most westerly town in Ireland, and is only 1,600 miles from Nova Scotia. At one time it THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 51 was proposed to run a line of steamers from here to America, but the project fell through. We would like to have spent a day or two around Westport, but we still thought we could reach the Giant's Causeway that evening, although I was begin- ning to think that Antrim was quite a long ways off. The Steward showed us around the gardens and grounds, and even offered to drive us over the town, but we were anxious to get started in the air again and we declined. It was 2 :oo o'clock when we had the starting rail in place and had everything in readiness for another flight. An immense crowd had gathered around the aero- plane. They made few remarks, evidently restrained by the presence of the steward, for whom they showed much respect. One or two did volunteer an Irish fare- well. 'Ah, then," said one old woman, "it's not often we have the blessing of such fine company, good luck to your honors, and God send you safe back again." "Good-bye," said a good-natured Son of Erin, with the map of Ireland all over his face. "Good-bye, and I hope ye can kape on your feet until you land agin." "God bless you, sors," said the Steward, "and keep you safe and bring you back." One gets used to hearing the name of Deity in Ire- land, but it does not shock you. The Irish use God's name familiarly, but reverently; not lightly, as in 52 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND France; or vulgarly, as so often in America. No one calls on God to damn you in Ireland. God is appealed to for blessing. "Good-bye/' Mike and I shouted, as we rose in the air. The crowd broke out in cheers, as we sailed away toward County Sligo. We crossed several lakes and much enjoyed the rest of our flight over County Mayo, but it is not a desirable part of Ireland in which to till the soil. We passed over a pretty little town on a railroad, called Castlebar. We entered County Sligo near Swineford. Just after entering County Sligo, Mike said to me: "Where's our sunshine?" I looked around. The entire sky was overcast. We were having the usual experience with the Irish weather, which some one has said is as changeable as the Irish character. Smiles and tears come at a mo- ment's notice. The clouds soon got to work and it began to driz- zle. Passing over Sligo we could see the farms improve, and when we reached County Leitrim, which we entered near Lake Allen, we could see a marked improvement. The soil was fertile, the farms and houses were larger,, and there was a general air of prosperity apparent. Our aeroplane whizzed through the misty, rainy at- mosphere, like an ocean liner through a fog, but as the upper plane got soaked through, it began to 1 leak down on us, and the water-logged planes made the machine THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 53 more difficult to control. Mike told me that the airship was not built for Irish weather, but he afterwards rem- edied this defect, as we shall see. When we reached County Fermanaugh we began to realize Ireland's agricultural possibilities. Ulster is a different world from Connaught. The landscape is rolling, covered with cultivated farms. The houses are often two-storied, slated, and neatly kept. There are large barns and every appearance of prosperity. The picture presented to us in Ulster was not so romantic as in Connemara, but it is more like living. In many parts of Connaught a crow would need to have its ra- tions along, but there are signs of plenty in Ulster. We could well understand why the Irish did not altogether approve of the grimi Oliver's dictum : "To Connaught with every Irishman." The inhabitants of the North of Ireland are also different from the Irish of the West. They are largely Protestant in religion and of Scotch descent. Their forefathers were brought to Ireland by James L, in the early part of the 17th century. Several of the English rulers had a good deal to do with the history of Ireland. Henry VIII. , Queen Elizabeth, Oliver Cromwell, and James I., had extensive real estate dealings in the Emer- ald Isle in years gone by, and when they had completed their bargains the map of Ireland was altered and the feelings of many of the Irish were badly lacerated. It has taken centuries for these wounded feelings to heal. 54 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND It was after four o'clock when we sighted the chim- neys of Enniskillen. This prosperous town is built on Lake Erne, or Lough Erne, as the natives call it. Lough Erne is another of Ireland's large fresh-water lakes. Enniskillen is famous as the city which, like Londonderry endured victoriously a siege in 1689, the year of the commotion between James II. and William III. Its defenders manifested the greatest bravery. The banners captured at the Battle of the Boyne, where William IIL defeated James II., hang in Enniskillen's Town Hall. Tired and wet, I seconded heartily Mike's sugges- tion that we spend the night here. I felt that I could not fly another mile. We came down rather abruptly in a field near town. The water-soaked aeroplane had become hard to control, and we narrowly missed a big hawthorn hedge. A farm house was near by, and the farmer came running to us, followed by a little crowd of children of all ages. After explanations, we turned the aeroplane over to- him for the night, and trudged into town. Walking seemed pleasant to us both, as we had been flying for a whole day. In spite of the misty rain, we enjoyed every step of our mile walk to the Royal Hotel. We had a good Irish supper, or "tea," as they called it, and soon afterwards we retired for the night. The day ended perhaps a little ingloriously, but we were well content. CHAPTER VII A DAY IN ENNISKILLEN HEN we woke up late the next morning the *§&) \ sun was shining in at the windows. We congratulated ourselves on having escaped the bad weather of the previous evening, and we expected to again enjoy the sight of Ireland's green fields lit up with sunshine. When I arose I felt quite stiff and sore, and I saw Mike moved around with more than his usual precision. The prolonged flight of the previous day had wearied us considerably. Some aeronauts may wonder we could make such a long flight, but straight, cross-country aero- planing differs much from circling a mile track. The aeroplane is not so comfortable as a dirigible balloon, and a flight like Count Zeppelin's recent cross-country trip in Europe would be quite strenuous in the heavier- than-air machines at present. But a journey of 300 or 400 miles a day, with proper stops, does not call for any extraordinary endurance. As we came down stairs to breakfast we heard a band out on the street and we noticed an air of excite- ment on every hand. We thought, at first, that we were the occasion of the evident agitation, hut a waiter soon showed us that there were greater things, even, than aeroplanists in Ireland on that day. 56 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND "It's a foine Twelfth of July/*' he said to us. "What about the Twelfth of July?" asked Mike. The waiter stared at him, until Mike went on : "What's going on here today?" Then the waiter, seeing we were ignorant Americans explained to us how they celebrated the victory of the Boyne every Twelfth of July, and how the celebration that day was to be the biggest ever held. Then I re- membered how the great day in the North of Ireland is the Twelfth of July, just as the Seventeenth of March is the great day in the rest of Ireland. However, St. Patrick's Day is now generally observed in some way not only in Ireland, but in all the world. "Mike," said I, kk let us stay in Enniskillen today and celebrate." "We'll stay and rest," said Mike, "and see what they do here on the "glorious Twelfth", as our waiter calls it." After breakfast we went out on the streets, and found them filling up with a holiday crowd. I was reminded of a celebration of July Fourth in America. Excursion trains coming in from different points in the surrounding territory added to' the crowd every hour. These excursion parties brought with them in every case one or two fife bands, and occasionally a brass band. These bands played popular airs to the great delight of the crowd. All these numerous bands, and the immense crowd of Irishmen and Irish women, gathered in a large field beside Enniskillen. It was a scene of the greatest THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 57 enthusiasm. Bands in different parts of the field were playing different airs. All was hub-bub and excitement. There were stands all around where all kinds of drinks were sold. Already several plainly showed that they had been drinking a liquid much stronger than lemonade. Lads and lasses were walking around, jostling, crowding and laughing. It was a good-natured crowd, as there was no counter-demonstration of any kind, as happens sometimes in other parts of Ireland, I understand. The differences between the Roman Catholic and Protestant are very acute in the Emerald Isle for several reasons. Often the two sides have bitter disputes. In this con- troversy, as in all else, the inevitable humor of the Irish sometimes crops out. The famous Father O'Leary had a polemical contest with the Protestant Bishop of Cloyne. The Bishop, in a pamphlet, inveighed with great acrimony against the doctrines of the Roman Catholic Church, and particularly against purgatory. Father O'Leary, in his reply, slyly observed, "that, much as the Bashop disliked purgatory, he might go farther and fare worse." When Dean Swift was at Carlow, he found the Episcopal Church badly dilapidated. "Why don't you give it to the Catholics?" said the caustic Dean. "You know they would repair it and you could take it from them afterwards" It is not theology alone that separates Catholics and Protestants in Ireland. The real estate deals of the English Kings and Queens have something to do with it. 58 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND We enjoyed immensely our day in Enniskillen. We saw a typical North of Ireland crow.d, heard an Irish orator declaim against "the foes of Ireland," listened to Irish bands, and shared in the enthusiasm of the occasion. There was an excursion steamer running on Lough Erne and in the afternoon we had a delightful boat ride. In the evening, while at supper, we had a sample of real Irish wit. There was a large sign in the dining room with this notice: "Strangers are requested not to give any money to the waiters, as attention is charged for in the bill." Our waiter saw Mike reading this sign, and re- marked to* himi : "Oh, Mister, sure that doesn't concern you at all. We're not makm' a stranger o 3 you, sor." We laughed heartily, and told him we never felt more at home in our lives. "Tips" are as necessary in Ireland, even when traveling with an aeroplane, as raincoats. We had been informed that we would find wretched hotels in Ireland, but the Imperial Hotel at Cork and the Royal Hotel at Enniskillen, are excellent hotels, and, as a rule, we found the hotel accommodations satisfactory. In the evening, before dark, we sauntered forth, and Mike went into a "shop," as they call stores in Erin, and bought out their entire supply of light oil-cloth. Taking this with us, we went out to see our aeroplane. In the excitement of July Twelfth, the news of our strange craft evidently did not spread very wide, and we THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 59 were very glad to escape notoriety in Enniskillen. We found the airship just as we left it the previous night. The farmer wondered what had become of us. Mike got some tacks and a hammer, and covered the upper plane entirely with oil-cloth. "Even an airship needs a raincoat in this country," said Mike to the farmer. "But, sor," said the farmer, "it's such a gentle rain we have here." The oil-cloth was quite a good idea on the part of Mike. It gave us both a big umbrella during the rest of our trip, and the sudden showers were not so disagreeable. The next morning we started at 5 :oo o'clock, and after rewarding our farmer friend for his care of the aeroplane, we ascended into the Irish atmosphere again. After circling over Enniskillen, we turned North, and, leaving Lough Erne far to the West, we sped, like a gigantic eagle, towards Tyrone. CHAPTERjVIII CIRCLING OVER LONDONDERRY IN AN AREOPLANE E were almost an hour in reaching Omagh, ^5^ \\ the county seat of County Tyrone. As we flew over the city we were surprised to see how new-looking it was in appearance, as it is one of Ireland's oldest towns, I learned later that the old town had been destroyed some two hundred years ago, and that Omagh of today is comparatively modern. It is a neat and prosperous city, with streets, some of them very steep', running in every direction. A beautiful Cathedral adorns the hillside, and an old barracks, now used as a police station, is an imposing structure. There are several large Presbyterian churches which show every sign of progress and prosperity. There were only a few people on the streets when we winged our way across the city at 6:00 o'clock. These stared up at us and we could see them running to the high places to keep us in sight. The farms in County Tyrone looked large compared with the microscopic farms of Connaught and Kerry, but they looked very small to an American. Thei macadamized roads are models in the way they are kept up, but they are narrow and winding. When the wagon roads cross a railroad, there is never a grade crossing. Generally the wagon THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 61 road runs over the railroad, but occasionally dips under it. We had another exciting experience with an early train from Omagh to Derry. We caught up with this train at Newtonstewart, a picturesque little place. The engineer saw us, and, like his fellow-Irishman in County Kerry, he tooted his whistle in our honor. We flew alongside the train for several miles, about ioo feet from the side of the track, and 30 feet high in the air. As the race continued, every passenger grew more and more excited. They cheered and shouted. Mike, with both his hands on his levers, could only look down and grin, but I was able to wave my handkerchief and cap. The engineer gave one long, farewell toot, as he stopped at a station, while we flew on our way. At Strabane, a good-sized town, some twenty miles from Londonderry, we created wild excitement. A number of people were around the station, as we whizzed past, just about 20 feet in the air, directly over the railroad tracks. We rose to- a height of J$ feet just after passing the station, and we could hear their loud cheering, as we rose like a bird. The river Foyle formed at Strabane by the junction of the rivers Finn and Mourne, flows from Strabane to> Derry (as Londonderry is called by the natives) a wide and noble stream. Mike turned the aeroplane directly over the river after we left Strabane, and we flew above it for many miles. This Foyle Valley is a rich agricultural country, and I could see the crops o Derry. After passing over Coleraine, we came to the sea- coast again at Portstewart. I could see the row of houses along the quay, in one of which Lever used to> live. Lever's home was in Dublin, but he spent a year as a dispensary doctor at Portstewart, and did some writing here. A stiff breeze was blowing along the coast, and Mike was kept busy handling the airship. Leaving Portstewart, we went along the rough coast to Portrush. This was formerly a dreaded coast, many a brave ship going to pieces on the rocks. Portrush is the fashionable watering place of the North of Ireland, and it is crowded with visitors during July and August. The town is built on a ridge that projects into the sea. The strands are beautiful. The ridge on which the town is built ends in a hill, called Ramore hill, which is a favorite promenade. We could see the bathers swimming in the surf, as we skimmed along the strand towards the White Rocks. These are cliffs of a strange white formation. THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 69 A little beyond the White Rocks Mike slowed up, and passed around the picturesque ruins of Dunluce Castle, This ancient ruin crowns a high cliff, and., before men could fly, was a difficult place to reach. Right in front of us we could see the headlands above the Giant's Causeway. I did not very much enjoy my sail from Dunluce to those headlands. After leaving the Castle, Mike turned directly out to sea, instead of following the coast, and crossed a bay of a few miles to the Causeway. I remembered our experience over the river Foyle, and I did not altogether appreciate Mike's daring. I was really relieved as we rose over the great cliff that over- hangs the Causeway, and circled around with the earth under us. We were both delighted to. reach the Northern end of the Island. It was not quite ten o'clock when we arrived. There are two large hotels on the high cliff, and Ave could see the tourists, many with field glasses, watch- ing us in the air. Mike, in the exuberance of his joy and self-confidence, made three great circles before landing. In making the last circle he went out over the sea again, and then alit beside the Railroad hotel as lightly as a bird could have done. The crowd cheered us as we stepped out, and some of the men came forward to shake hands and congratulate us, We were asked if we were the Wright Brothers, and when we said we were not, some of them suggested Curtiss, Farnam, and other well-known aeronauts. When we explained we were simply tourists, using the latest and best way of 70 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND travel, they looked at each other, and when Mike told how we had come from Cork, they laughed outright. I do not believe half a dozen in the crowd thought we had come any further than from Portrush. I expect they would not have believed we could fly at all had they not seen us alight. One Englishman laughed so 1 contemptuously that I noticed Mike looked at him in disgust. "It reminds me of the Manager of the Chicago Stock Yards," said the Englishman. "Why, what about the Manager of the Chicago Stockyards?" asked Mike hotly. Not noticing Mike's rising temper, the Englishman went on to tell of a couple of Irishmen who went to Chicago, and while there, visited the Stockyards. One of the managers noticed the interest Erin's sons took in the great institution, and thought he would play a joke. Pointing to a large herd of cattle; which were being driven into one of the lower buildings, the Manager called attention to them, and when the last tail had disappeared, he waited a few moments and then pulled a great freight elevator rope and down came a large elevator loaded with canned meat. "There," said the Manager, slyly winking at an employee near by, "there are all those cows you saw, hides, horns, hoofs, and every thing, all canned and ready for market. Did you ever see anything like that in Ireland, Pat?" he asked. Pat at once took out his note book and be^an to THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 71 write. The Manager looked over Pat's shoulder and read on Pat's note book : "The Manager of the Chicago Stockyards is the biggest liar I have met yet." Mike was furious as he heard the crowd join in uproarious laughter at our expense. "Do you call me a liar, sir," said Mike, squaring himself in front of the joking Englishman. The Englishman was taken aback at Mike's earn- estness, and, not knowing what to say, merely laughed in a foolish kind of way. "I allow no man to call me a liar," said Mike, as he stepped closer to his antagonist. Mike was a Yankee, but I knew there was Irish blood in his veins, and this rash Englishman had aroused him. I was afraid our aeroplane trip was going to end in a fiasco, when something altogether unexpected happen- ed. "I believe you, sir," said a sweet, charming, musical voice," and you must tell us all about your wonderful voyage over Ireland. It must have been delightful." Mike turned to see the speaker, and, in a moment, every trace of anger left his face, and he stood like a blushing schoolboy. At the same time a dark-haired, rosy-cheeked girl, of nineteen or twenty, clad in a dainty white sailor dress and cap came forward, holding out her hand. Mike recovered himself, clasped her hand, saying: "I thank you, Miss—." , "Edith O'Neill," added the girl. 72 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND "I am glad to meet you, Miss O'Neill," said Mike, and I never saw him, look more manly. The crowd burst into applause, and all was good cheer again. That was the first meeting of Mike and Miss O'Neill, and it was fraught with more meaning than any of us thought at the time. I found out later in the day that Miss O'Neill was a descendant of the famous Irish O'Neill family. Her father was a wealthy Dublin lawyer, and she and her parents were taking a short holiday at the Causeway. After seeing that the aeroplane was carefully stored away in a corner of the hotel yard, Mike and I retired to our room 1 until lunch. Mike was in splendid humor, and he had every reason to be. Our aeroplane trip was a success. We had conquered the Irish air. An Irish heiress is still more difficult to conquer, but it is wonderful what one can do in the Irish atmosphere. CHAPTER X OUR REST ON THE ANTRIM COAST HEN we came down to the noon lunch at the hotel, we met Miss O'Neill and a fine- looking, elderly gentleman and lady, whom she at once introduced as her parents. Mr. O'Neill was very cordial, and invited us to sit at their table. In some way I managed to monopolize both Mr. and Mrs. O'Neill, leaving Mike out in the cold with Miss O'Neill. However, I don't think he minded it in the least, as both he and the fair Irish girl seemed to get on good terms at once. I was surprised at Mike. I had never known him before to take an interest in any girl. He always had avoided the young ladies as long as I had known him. I think it must have been the Irish atmosphere. After lunch Mr. O'Neill and I went for a walk over the Causeway. Mrs. O'Neill took an afternoon nap, and so Mike and Miss Edith were left alone together again. One reason why Mike capitulated so easily to the charms of this fair Irish maiden was that she had been an ardent student of aeronautics, and was even ambitious to fly herself. During the afternoon Mr. O'Neill showed me the wonders of the Giant's Causeway, It is no wonder that 74 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND this unique phenomenon in geology is so far-famed. A stream of lava, 2600 feet wide, and fifteen miles long, instead of forming the usual basaltic rock when it had cooled, formed itself into detached columns, from six to thirty feet long, and from eight to twenty- four inches in diameter. These strange columns, mostly pentagonal or hexagonal in formation, present a smooth surface in three parallel terraces along this Antrim coast and make the most remarkable natural pavement ever seen by the eyes of man. There are forty thousand of these columns, and every one of them is a perfect geometrical figure. The columns are so close together that water will not pass between them, and yet each is separate. "With skill so like, yet so surpassing art; With such design, so just in every part, That reason ponders, doubtly if it stand The work of morta) or immortal hand." As we walked over this marvelous piece of rock formation, Mr. O'Neill told me the legend of Finn McCool, and how he built the Causeway over to Scot- land, in order to provide a way for Ben Donner to come over to Ireland to accept his challenge.. Ben was the champion of Scotland, as Finn was in Ireland, and Finn was determined to see which was the better man. In the contest Finn was victorious, and as there was no* further use for this strange roadway across the sea, most of it had been swept away, but a little was left on the Antrim coast, a relic of Finn's remarkable handiwork. Science attempts to explain the Causeway by saying THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 75 that, when the rock was in a fluid state, crystalization set in, and produced the phenomenon. It is claimed that the Palisades of the Hudson are a somewhat similar formation. On account of the fact that rocks do not naturally crystalize, however, the Causeway still remains the puzzle of the scientist. The scenery along the coast near the Causeway is sublime, and there is a walk along the face of the cliff, which I found almost as dangerous as aeroplaning. I found Mr. O'Neill a charming companion, and I thoroughly enjoyed his society. After we had talked of the Causeway, our conversation drifted to the subject of Ireland's history. Naturally, this was a subject clear to his heart. He gave me a brief epitome of Irish history which was new to me. Irish history begins with St. Patrick in the fifth century of our era. St. Patrick evangelized the Irish, and, as a result of his labors, Ireland was the land ot w | lose i louse was near by, we took a street car down town, and had lunch at the Y. M. C. A. cafe. Evidently our flight over the city had been ob- served by many, as we heard a good deal of conver- sation about the "airship." We came back to Cave Hill about noon, and I found a great crowd around the aeroplane. Getting a starting rail, Mike prepared to ascend as quickly as possible. Just as we were about ready to start, I saw a young man edge his way through the crowd, with a note book in one hand and a pencil in the other. I recognized him at once as a reporter, seeking an interview. Before he came close enough to hear, I said to Mike: "Hurry up, hurry up. I see a newspaper man." If I had told Mike I had seen his Satanic Majesty, he could not have hurried his final preparations more, as he has a horror of the "interviewer," and we were determined to escape them while in Ireland. When the reporter reached my side, he began at once : "I represent the Whig, the Belfast Whig. We want an account of this airship, if you please. What are 88 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND your names? Where did you come from?" Before he could ask any more questions, Mike shouted loudly to me: "All aboard." I was glad to leap into my seat. Without another word, Mike vaulted into his place, started the motor, and before the astonished reporter could get out another word, we were sailing in the air. The big crowd cheered and clapped their hands, as w r e rose gracefully towards Cave Hill. Ascending to the very summit of this hill, Mike turned the aeroplane in one of his familiar circles, and we made another wide sweep over Belfast. Below us we could see Belfast Cas- tle. The Earl of Shaftesbury, grandson of the famous philanthropist, lives in this Castle, which is a modern mansion, as everything is around Belfast. The Earl has inherited some of the sterling qualities of his illus- trious grandfather, and is a public spirited citizen. He was elected Lord Mayor of Belfast in 1907. Belfast is a remarkable city, different from any other city in Ireland. It practically came on the map in the 17th century, when it first became a centre for the export of linen in a small way. As it is located at the junction of Down and Antrim two Presbyterian Counties, Belfast has always been a Presbyterian stronghold. There are upwards of 60 prosperous Presbyterian churches in the city today, and the Presbyterian Assembly Hall is one of the largest and most beautiful buildiners in the North of Ireland. THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 89 One hundred years ago Belfast had a population of less than 20,000. Today it has nearly 400,000. Its wealth has doubled six times in the last 25 years. Belfast owes its prosperity to the linen trade. This industry alone now amounts to sixty million dollars a year. The largest mill, which I could easily distinguish, covers five acres, with 6000 spindles, 1000 looms and more than 4000 employees. There are also extensive machine shops, and its ship yards build the largest ocean liners afloat. Here also are manufactured agricultural imple- ments, "soft drinks" of all kinds, and machinery of every sort. Its situation on Belfast Lough, at the mouth of the Lagan is picturesque, and, taken altogether, Belfast is one of the finest cities in Europe. Leaving it behind us we sailed due south, in the direction of Downpatrick, where St, Patrick is buried. As we crossed County Down, we admired again the thrifty farm-houses, well-tilled farms, and the little fields, green with potatoes and turnips, or waving with flax and oats. In less than half an hour Downpatrick came in sight. We flew over the beautiful Gothic Down Cathe- dral, in the churchyard of which St. Patrick lies buried. Here also lies buried St. Bridget and St. Columba, two other noble characters in Ireland's religious history. St. Patrick was born in Scotland about the year 387. When he was sixteen years old, he was taken a 90 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND captive, and sold as a slave to an Irishman, for whom he herded sheep and swine in County Antrim. While a slave, he became a devout Christian, and made his escape when he was twenty-two years old. He entered a monastic school in France, and fitted himself as a Missionary to Ireland. At that time the Irish wor- shipped at Druid altars. Landing at the mouth of the Slaney in County Down, he settled in Downpatrick. He remained here several years and then visited all parts of the island, meeting with marvelous success. In 457 he settled in Armagh and lived there for eight years. While visiting in Downpatrick in his 78th year, he was seized with a fatal illness, and died at the scene of early labors. Here he was buried. St. Bridget was born near Armagh about 453. She was rich and beautiful, but became a convert to Chris- tianity, and devoted her life to missionary labors amongst the Irish. She died in 525, and was first buried at Kildare. Her remains and those of St. Columba were brought to Downpatrick in 1185. St. Patrick made the shamrock the national flower of Ireland by teaching from its three petals the doctrine of the Trinity. Turning west from Downpatrick, Mike and I fol- lowed in the air St. Patrick's footsteps to Armagh. Be- fore entering County Armagh, we crossed over a pretty village, called Banbridge. County Armagh resembles County Down in its general appearance. It was a beau- tiful picture of rural quietude. It was after two o'clock THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 91 when we caught our first glimpse of the famous Irish city of Armagh. This is Ireland's most sacred city. Two Primates of Ireland live here, and here are two Archbishops, and two magnificent Cathedrals. Armagh is a well-built town of some 8,000 inhabitants. It is built partly on a hill, which makes some of its streets quite steep. A Cathedral was founded here by St. Patrick in 432. His Eminence, Cardinal Logue, an able and learned divine, is the Roman Catholic Primate, while Dr. Alexander is the Protestant Primate of the island The ecclesias- tical head of the Presbyterian Church is called the Moderator, and is elected every year. We sailed over the beautiful grounds of Dr. Alex- ander's Palace, and were reminded of his gifted wife, who wrote : "There is a green hill far away, Outside a city wall Where the dear Lord was crucified, Who died to save us all." Mrs. Alexander died in 1895. Another well known poem of hers is "The Burial of Moses." There are three prosperous and growing Presby- terian churches in Armagh. Dr. John Hall, who after- wards became one of the foremost preachers in America, was pastor of one of these Presbyterian churches for a time, and laid the foundation of his future fame in this city. There is a vigorous Methodist church, which is also active in promoting the Christian faith. 92 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND Armagh is rich in historic memories. As I circled over its steep and winding streets that day with Mike, I thought of all the scenes enacted on the soil beneath. Here St. Patrick lived. Here a great educational institution flourished more than 1200 years ago. As many as 7000 students gathered in this place at one time to attend its far-famed University. The bleeding body of Brian Boru was reverently carried here, after the fatal day at Clontarf in 1 01 4. In the stirring years of the O'Neills, Armagh saw many ex- citing scenes. But all was quiet and peaceful on that lovely summer day, as we circled over the sacred city, and flew south toward Newry. CHAPTER XIII ALIGHTING IN DROGHEDA ^ s- ^/7? N our way from Armagh to Newry, we saw ^\ W the Newry Canal. This little piece of en- gineering work was completed shortly before the railroads came to make it useless. Newry is a prosperous place, but not noted much in history. The Newryites gazed at us in wonder, as we whirled directly over their town towards Warren- point. Warrenpoint is a handsome seaside resort at the head of Carlingford Bay. We kept to the east side of the Bay until we reached Rosstrevor. This beautiful vil- lage has a back-ground of wooded hills, and many hand- some villas are in its neighborhood. The village is own- ed by Sir John Ross-of-Blandensburg. A large obelisk in an elevated place tells why the name of the owner is "Ross of Blandensburg." This obelisk is in honor of General Ross, grandfather of Sir John, and the inscrip- tion reads as follows : The Officers of a Grateful Army Which under the command of the lamented Major Gen- eral Robert Ross Attacked and defeated the American forces at Blandens- burg on the 24th of August, 1814. and on the same day Victoriously entered Washington,, the Capital of the United States Inscribe upon this tablet their admiration of his profes- sional skill and their esteem for his amiable private character. 94 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND As I pointed out the obelisk to Mike and told him of this inscription, he was greatly amused. From Rosstrevor we crossed the little bay to Carl- ingford, another picturesque village, and shortly after- wards sighted Dundalk. "What time is it?" asked Mike. I looked at my watch and answered : "Ten minutes to three." "Let us alight here," said Mike. "My wings are tired." We came down in a field just outside of the town. It was the worst landing Mike made. We alit on one runner of the aeroplane, and got a severe jar, but, for- tunately, no damage was done. After an hour's rest and a walk around town, we sailed on to Drogheda, where we expected to spend the night. If we had been Theodore Roosevelt himself, or even Edward VII., we could not have attracted more atten- tion and honor from the people of the country than we did that afternoon between Dundalk and Drogheda. Mike made a superb landing at Drogheda. We alit be- side a two-storied house on the edge of town, creat- ing a sensation. Some children, near the door, saw us swooping down, and ran, screaming into the house. Just as we were landing a woman ran out and as she saw the aeroplane alight, she uttered a shriek, as though she had seen a ghost. Presently a man came running, and we introduced THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 95 ourselves. Leaving the aeroplane with him and the o-atherine crowd, we went to a hotel. I was interested in Drogheda, on account of its historic siege by Oliver Cromwell in 1649. We saw two of the old towers stand- ing, just as they were left after the siege. Oliver Cromwell is as unpopular in Ireland as the Duke of Alva in the Netherlands, and when we read his report of his doings at this city we were not surprised. Here is what he wrote from Drogheda in reporting to Parliament : "Divers of the enemy retreated to the Milmount, a place very strong and of difficult access, being exceed- ingly high, having a good graft, and strongly palisadoed. The Governor, Sir Arthur Aston, and divers consider- able officers being there, our men getting up to them, were ordered by me to put them all to the sword. And, indeed, being in the heat of action, I forbade them to spare any that were in arms in the town; and I think that night they put to the sword about 2000 men . Then our horse and foot followed them so fast over the bridge, which goes over a broad river; and being very long and houses on both sides, yet they had not time to pull up their draw bridge, that our men fell violently upon them, and I believe there were 2000 of them put to the sword. Divers of the officers and soldiers being fled over the bridge into the other parts of the town, where about 100 of them possessed St. Peters church-steeple, some the West Gate, others a strong round tower next the gate called St. Sundays. These being summoned to yield to mercy refused, whereupon I ordered the steeple of St. Peters to be fired, when one of them was heard to say in the midst of the flames, 'God confound me, I burn! I burn !' 96 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 'The next day the two other towers were summoned, in one of which was about six or seven score, but they refused to yield themselves; and we, knowing that hun- ger must compel them, set only good guards to secure them from running away until their stomachs were come down. From one of the said towers, notwithstanding their condition, they killed and wounded some of our men. When they submitted, their officers WERE KNOCKED ON THE HEAD, and every tenth man of the soldiers killed, and the rest shipped for the Bar- badoes/' After writing this gentle epistle, Oliver continues : "I am persuaded that this is a righteous judgment of God upon these barbarous wretches, who have em- brued their hands in so much innocent blood, and that it will tend to prevent the effusion of blood, for the fu- ture, which are the satisfactory grounds for such actions, which otherwise cannot but work remorse and regret." After viewing Drogheda, we hired a jaunting car, and visited the ruins of Monasterboice, some six miles from town. This monastery was founded by St. Patrick. Eight or nine centuries ago, thousands of students gath- ered here every year. There are two small churches left still standing, evidently of great age. Our driver told us that the big round tower there was 1000 years, old. The finest relics of the past here are three large Celtic Crosses, the largest being 27 feet in height. One of them is badly damaged, and, of course, the damage is attributed to Cromwell. Our driver was a talkative fellow and entertained us with all kinds of stories about the country. THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 97 "I always tell folks," he said to Mike, "all that L know, but begorra, I keep the rest to myself." He got a good laugh on Mike when he told us some history which Mike deemed ridiculous. "Do you think I'm a fool to tell me that," said Mike. "Sure, I don't know, sor," answered the driver solemnly, "I only met you this evening." This driver had a son in America, as a good many Irish fathers have. These Irish boys go out to America with very little that they own except their names, but: they soon begin to make remittances home, and in thous- ands of Irish homes the regular remittances from faith- ful sons and daughters in America are depended on as. part of the means of livelihood. The river which Cromwell refers to in his dis- patches, on which Drogheda is built, is the Boyne river. Three miles from Drogheda, on the banks of the Boyne, the armies of William III. and James II. met in battle. This was the battle that sealed the fate of King James, and it is said he showed a little too much anxiety for his royal person on this occasion to win much renown as' a soldier. The battle was fought on July 12th, 1690. A huge obelisk now marks the field of conflict. The Boyne is a beautiful stream, richly wooded, with many villas adorning its banks. This part of Ire- land is "soggy," as Mike expressed it, with historic memories. The next day we hoped to fly over Tara, the ancient Capital of the Green Isle, and with pleasant an- ticipations, we retired for the night. CHAPTER XIV WITH FRIENDS IN DUBLIN ARLY next morning we ascended from Drogheda, and followed the valley of the Boyne for several miles. Then turning south, we flew over County Meath, on a straight way to Tara, the ancient Capital of Ireland. County Meath is one of the most fertile spots in Europe. Its rich greenness is proverbial. Large pastur- ages, though not profitable to the peasants, add to the beauty of the landscape. "I say, Jack," said Mike, after we had been gazing in silence at the fields as they glided under us, "I am fall- ing in love with Ireland." "Mike," I said solemnly, "you mean that you are falling in love with the Irish. I think it is because we are getting near Dublin you are feeling that way." "We'll get to Dublin bright and early at this rate," said Mike evasively. I fancied I could see Mike become more and more lively as we approached the neighbor- hood of Dublin. As we saw Tara with its little cluster of Irish cot- tages, I felt a sense of disappointment, but when we cir- cled over the famous hill, I let my imagination supply what was wanting. I re-peopled the green mounds with Druid priests and Irish Kings. I imagined coronation scenes, and vast armies filling the plains. These used to THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 99 be realities in Tara, but all is changed now. An air of loneliness pervades the very atmosphere. Even the "Stone of Destiny," fabled as Jacob's Pillow at Bethel, is gone. It was carried to Scotland centuries ago, and later taken to London, where it can be seen as the seat of the coronation chair in Westminster Abbey. We saw the Statue of St. Patrick, at which many a rude joke is made. From our aerial viewpoint we could not see it distinctly, but it is said to be a fair work of art for a stone cutter to accomplish. St. Patrick often preached at Tara, and a shaft here in his honor would be most appropriate. Daniel O'Connell on one occasion drew a quarter of a million of people to Tara in 1844, when he held a great two days' political meeting and gave two brilliant ad- dresses. Tara is not marked by any marble obelisk to re- count its former glories, but it will be held in memory while time lasts on account of Thomas Moore's world- famed ballad : "The Harp that once through Tara's Halls The soul of music shed Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls, As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er, So hearts that once beat high for praise Now feel that pulse no more. "No more to chiefs and ladies bright The harp of Tara swells; The chord alone that breaks at night Its tale of ruin tells. 100 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, The only throb she gives Is when some heart indignant breaks To show that she still lives." "Farewell to Tara's Halls," I said, as we swept on south. As we fled over Ireland we astonished the Irish people, but we also astonished the denizens of the air. The birds seemed unable to understand what kind of a monster was invading their element. As we passed over rookeries, where the crows had their nests in large flocks, the cawing of the frightened crows was tremendous. The little sparrows chirped around us. with their chatter. We saw many magpies, robins, blackbirds and thrushes. There was one bird in Ireland I learned to love, the meadow lark. It would spring from the ground singing as it rose, until it was lost in the clouds, but its sweet notes could still be heard. Less than half an hour after leaving Tara, we ar- rived at Maynooth, which is located just 12 miles west of Dublin. Maynooth is celebrated as the seat of May- nooth College, the chief Roman Catholic educational center in modern Ireland. A College was established in Maynooth as early as 15 13, but the present institution dates back only to 1795. At that time it was re-organiz- ed and established with Government grants. Three-fourths of the priests in Ireland have been educated here, and the standard of the college is high amongst the Catholic institutions of Europe. About THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 101 150 complete their education every year, and take their place as the spiritual leaders of the Catholic population of the Island. Until the establishment of Maynooth Col- lege, the Irish priests were educated generally in France. Maynooth is noted amongst all classes in Ireland as a center for temperance reform, and it is claimed that fully three- fourths of the priests from Maynooth are pledged abstainers, and ardent temperance workers. The Col- lege has a large, spacious campus, and adequate build- ings, and has an attendance of about 500 students. The massive ruins of Maynooth Castle stand at the gateway of the College. There is another interesting ruin in the vicinity, the Round Tower, of Taghadoc, one of the largest of these Irish Round Towers. It stands a few miles south of Maynooth. We circled twice over the College, and were greet- ed with cheers by a company of the students who were walking on the campus. "Now for Dublin," said Mike, as he turned the aeroplane east. "Mike," I said, "do you know why every Irishman ought to be rich?" "No," he answered, "I never knew that was one of the duties of an Irishman." "Yes," I went on, "every Irishman ought to be rich because the capital of the country has been "dublin" every year for centuries." "That's a capital joke," said Mike laughing. As we were leaving Maynooth, I could see from 102 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND my lofty seat the famous Carton House. In this lordly mansion lives one of the most favored of Irishmen, the Duke of Leinster. He has a whole bushel of titles, is worth millions of money and has the blood of a hundred Dukes and Earls in his veins. In spite of all this, he is not very robust in physical health, and it is said he has symptoms of tuberculosis. He is young and unmarried. He has several palatial residences, but Carton House is his favorite. It stands in a Park, enclosed by an eight mile 10 foot wall, and in the Park are over thirty miles of macadamized driveways. His garden covers sixty acres. Queen Victoria was once the guest of this splen- did home, which is a royal palace itself. For a number of miles we followed the river Liffey, and it was easy to tell we were nearing the Capital City. Beautiful villas dotted the landscape, and many of these homes were evidently abodes of wealth and culture. As we came nearer, we rose in the air until we were fully 600 feet high. From this lofty elevation I could see the great city of Dublin, stretching to the sea, and reaching out on both sides along Dublin Bay. Mr. O'Neill had described his home to us so clearly that we had no difficulty in finding it. He lived south of Dublin, near Blackrock, not far from the seaside. We followed the river Liffey as we passed through the center of the city. To our left we saw Phoenix Park on the western outskirts. We passed Four Courts, a massive Government building. We could see the famed Dublin Castle, south of the river, and further 011 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 103 Trinity College with its large campus in the middle of the city. Passing over Trinity College Park, we began to scan the landscape for Mr. O'Neill's residence. We could see that we attracted great attention from the pop- ulace and we saw thousands of upturned faces of as- tonished Dublinmen. Mike's quick eye discerned our landing place. The home of "The" O'Neill, as we heard him called in Dublin, was in the center of a large park, with a tall wall circling it completely. In front of the noble mansion there was a large lawn, which made a good place to alight. It was only nine o'clock when we dismounted from our aeroplane at "Shaneville," as the house was called. Mr. O'Neill and Miss Edith came out of the large front door, as we alit. "Yankee birds, Yankee birds," sang out the girl in gay greeting. "Welcome, gentlemen " said Mr. O'Neill, "welcome to 'Shaneville'." With genuine Irish cordiality he ushered us into his beautiful and richly- furnished home. CHAPTER XV GUESTS IN AN IRISH HOME IKE and I were glad to rest quietly all that day within the high walls that surrounded "Shaneville." Here we were safe from in- terviewers, curious people, and an excited populace. When aeroplaning is as common as motoring now is, it will be much more pleasant. Nowadays an aero- plane makes as much excitement as a comet, and I ex- pect that even this record will read like a novel to some. There are people who might enjoy the notoriety which ;an aeroplane gives, but we were not anxious to get famous in that way. During our pleasant clay at "Shaneville," I renewed my conversation with Mr. O'Neill in regard to his na- tive land, and, in his library that afternoon we had a long talk again on Ireland. I noticed that the coat of arms of "Shaneville" was a red hand, with the cross of St. George, and I had re- marked that I saw that coat of arms somewhere before. Mr. O'Neill laughed heartily, and assured me he was 'confident I had seen it often. He told me that was the coat of arms of Ulster, now, and was seen everywhere in the North of Ireland. It was his family which gave Ulster this sign. Long centuries before when his ances- THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 105 tors came over from Scotland to Ireland, the invaders agreed amongst themselves that whoever touched the shore of Ireland first with his hand would be King. An O'Neill amongst them, when the boat stranded on the. beach, promptly drew his sharp sword, and cut off his left hand and threw it high on the beach, and was at once hailed as King by the rest. Since that the O'Neill emblem has been a red hand. Mr. O'Neill related how his family held power from that time until the beginning of the 17th century, when a rebellion against England cost them their power and estates in Ulster. It w r as at this time that Ulster was colonized anew from Scotland. James I. confiscated nearly all Ulster, and partition- ed out the land to new settlers, mostly from Scotland. Although this act had meant the ruin of his house, I could see no bitterness in ONeill's voice as he spoke of this "plantation of Ulster," as he called it. He said that these new settlers had made good, industrious citi- zens, and that Ulster was the most prosperous part of Ireland today. He spoke highly of the character of these Scotch-Irishmen, and added : "You know, sir, away back our own people came from Scotland." Still, I could see that O'Neill looked on these great real estate transfers by the kings of England as wrongs to the native Irish. O'Neill told me there were three reforms going on in Ireland in which lie had hearty sympathy. These are the improvement of Irish agriculture, the revival of the 106 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND Gaelic tongue, and the suppression of intemperance amongst the Irish people. "One splendid result of the agitation for these re- forms," he said earnestly, "is that Irishmen are begin- ning to see that there is one Ireland after all. All creeds in Ireland are united in promoting these great reforms, and it is creating a national sentiment which is bringing all Irishmen into sympathy with each other." "Our curse has been," he continued, "that we have been divided so much amongst ourselves." I was surprised when he told me of the Govern- ment's present efforts to improve Irish agriculture. There is an Agricultural Department, which furnishes instructors on such subjects as improving of crops, and stock, butter and poultry. They also furnish seeds and fertilizers, and are doing a great deal in promoting prosperity in the backward parts of the island. Mr. O'Neill was enthusiastic about the Gaelic revival. "Why," he said, "they are even teaching Gaelic now in the National Schools of Ireland. In former times the use of the native tongue was discouraged in every way by the Government, but now teachers are being trained to teach it." I suggested to him that the English was quite a use- ful language, since it was spoken in America, and so widely throughout the world. "We still expect to use English, of course," he ex- claimed. He then explained that the efforts of Douglas THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 107 Hyde and his friends were to make the Irish a bi-lingual people, just as the Welsh are. In speaking of the progress of this interesting re- vival of Gaelic in Ireland he gave me some facts. In 1 901 as many as 638,000 could speak Gaelic in Ireland, and the number is constantly increasing. All the churches in Ireland, Protestant, and Catholic, have, en- dorsed the movement. There is a strong Gaelic League, which employs over a dozen lecturers and organizers, who promote the study of Gaelic all over the island. I was assured that even in America there was a strong- branch of this Gaelic League, and Mr. O'Neill told me that Mr, Roosevelt had endorsed the work highly. O'Neill was also deeply interested in the temperance reform. "Ireland," he said to me, "has been a place where they have had too much good whisky and too much bad politics. These two things have ruined us." He spoke with much pride of the fact that scien- tific temperance instruction had been introduced into the National schools of Erin in 1905, and also told of the work that all the churches were doing. He was an ar- dent admirer of Father Mathew. "A real temperance apostle," he exclaimed, "one of God's best blessings to Ireland since the clays of St. Patrick." He spoke cordially of the temperance leaders, and told me of the good work being done at Maynooth college 108 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND by the Faculty and the students. He said that America's eminent churchman, Archbishop Ireland, had helped the temperance cause in Ireland, which is his native land. He also mentioned Rev. John Macmillan, of Belfast, the temperance leader among the Presbyterians in Ireland, and said he was a noble temperance patriot. "These reforms," he repeated, "are bringing us to- gether and giving a feeling of unity to Irishmen such as they have not had since the days of Brian Boru." I asked him what he thought of Ireland's relation to England. He paused a few moments before answering, and when he did reply it was in a low, quiet tone. "We must forget the past," he said, "if Ireland is to make progress. It is true that England has cruelly wronged Ireland. My own family has suffered in past generations, suffered shamefully. But the English Government of today is treating Ireland very differ- ently. Gladstone inaugurated a new era, through the efforts of Parnell, Redmond, and our modern Irish leaders. Today the English people, I believe, want Ire- land to have justice." I asked him what he thought of separation from England. He answered at once : "We cannot be separ- ated. God has placed the islands side by side. What we want is freedom to manage internal affairs, just as the States in America, just as Canada, Australia, and New Zealand. We want local-self government, but we must remain a part of the British Empire." THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 109 He went on to tell me how the Irishmen had helped to build up the British Empire, and make it what it is today. "The present ambassador of the British Empire in Washington," he exclaimed, "is an Irishman." I was profoundly impressed with his views on this subject. I could see he was a man with wide sympathy and practical outlook, and believed in living for the fu- ture, rather than the past. He still had all the fire of the O'Neill blood in his veins, but it had been disciplined by generations of suffering. We had a happy time in the evening. There is no hospitality like the Irish hospitality. It is whole-hearted, cordial and sincere. Miss Edith delighted us with several Irish songs. She sang Moore's touching melody: "The Last Rose of Summer," with genuine pathos. Afterwards she began on American songs, and when she had sung several, I remarked that she sang like an American. She turned around on her piano stool and replied : "I have always admired America. Sometimes I tell my father that I believe that I was meant for an American woman." "Cross the ocean, Miss O'Neill," said Mike quickly, "and a thousand Americans will swear that you were meant for an American man." Edith blushed and turned again to the piano. "Tut, tut," said Mr. O'Neill to Mike, "vou have 10 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND been kissing the Blarney Stone since yon came to Ire- land." "It's the atmosphere/' I remarked, "Mr. Connor gets more like an Irishman every day." "Did you ever hear what the citizens of Dublin did when the Union of 1801 was agitated?" asked Mr. O'Neill. "They held an indignation meeting, and re- solved to burn everything that was imported from Eng- land, except coal." As we laughed heartily at this, Mr. O'Neill went on: "Our coachman made a curious re- mark to me today about you gentlemen and your aero- plane. He said you ought to feel proud of this trip you are making over Ireland in the air, for you are going where the foot of man never trod before." "This coachman amused me shortly after I first hired him. There is a bad hole back of the stable, and I forgot to say anything to him about it until I found he had fallen into it, and hurt himself severely. I told him I was sorry I had forgotten to tell him about it." "That's all right, Master," he replied, "I found it myself." CHAPTER XVI AROUND THE CAPITAL CITY OF IRELAND HE next morning after breakfast, Mr. O'Neill drove his motor car in front of the house, and Miss O'Neill, Mike and I joined him for a day around Dublin. I took my seat beside Mr. O'Neill, and Mike and Edith sat together in the rear. We had a delightful day, and the memory of that trip around this interesting city will always be one of my happiest memories. Our first visit was Trinity College, with its campus of 47 acres in the heart of Dublin. The main building, at the entrance, is a noble structure. We entered Exam- ination Hall, where many an Irish brain has been vio- lently cudgelled at examination time. There is a fine portrait hung on its walls of Queen Elizabeth, who founded Trinity. The chapel is a modest building. The Library is famed as containing Brian Boru's harp. It is said that this harp suggested to Moore his ode on Tara. Here we also saw the "Book of Kells", so called because it came from the Monastery at Kells. In this book the four gospels are written out with exquisite penmanship, on leaves embossed with gold, and beautifully illuminated. We doubt if there is a more beautiful book in the world. 112 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND Coming out of Trinity, Mr. O'Neill called our atten- tion to the statues of Edmund Burke and Oliver Gold- smith, which adorn the entrance. These are two of the most famous of Trinity's sons. Opposite the entrance to Trinity is the old Parlia- ment House, in which in former days the Irish Parlia- ment met. It is now used by the bank of Ireland. It was in this building that Grattan thundered his anathe- mas against the foes of Ireland. Dublin is a city of monuments. As Mr. O'Neill showed them to us, we began to have a better apprecia- tion of the number of eminent men whom Ireland has given to the world. High above them all, in the centre of the city, is a lofty pillar, 134 feet high, erected to the honor of the great English Admiral, Lord Nelson. From the base of Nelson's monument street cars start in all directions. Daniel O'ConnelFs monument is a fitting tribute to Ireland's great Liberator. It is 12 feet high and is surrounded by a number of smaller figures. There are also statues of the two great Irish Statesmen, remark- able for their patriotic eloquence, Henry Grattan, and John Philpot Curran. Mr. O'Neill also pointed out the statue to Father Mathew, which stands in a central place. It is a noble work of art, done in marble, and is worthy of the Apos- tle of Temperance. Thomas Moore, the gifted poet, has been honored by his countrymen also, although his poems will keep his memory green as long as time lasts. THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 113 A statue to Charles Stewart Parnell is to be erected Mr. O'Neill told us. O'Neill has been a great admirer of Parnell, and the tragic close of his life grieved him much. We had a delightful time in Phoenix Park. This unrivalled combination of forest and meadow, flower- beds and fountains, driveways and lawns, covers 1700 acres, and is a credit to Ireland. There is a statue of the Duke of Wellington, Ire- land's foremost soldier, in Phoenix Park. It is like Washington's Monument in Washington, except that it is only one-third as large. We visited the zoological gardens in the Park. Here we saw a marvelous collection of all kinds of ani- mals. As we went through the Monkey house, Mike said to Edith : "In America some wise men think we sprang from monkeys." ''The Irish didn't,'' she said gaily, "we never sprang from anybody. We sprang at them." As we laughed at her wit, Mike remarked : "I have always objected to having a mOnkey tied on to my family tree." Mr. O'Neill took us to the Viceregal lodge, which is in Phoenix Park, where the Lord Lieutenant of Ire- land lives in the summer time, and we had a brief aud- ience with His Excellency. He professed to be much pleased to see us, and was greatly interested in our aerial exploits in the Irish atmosphere. 114 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND We also visited Dublin Castle, the center of Irish history for centuries. We saw there the tower in which Robert Emmet and Lord Edward Fitzgerald were con- fined, over a century ago, after their ill-fated rebellions. Oliver Cromwell resided in this castle for a time. Wil- liam III. visited it in 1690. The Castle is at present the scene of many gay social events during the winter months, when the Lord Lieutenant resides in it.. Stephen's Green is an aristocratic suburb of twenty- two acres in the heart of Dublin. It is a big square, sur- rounded by the mansions of the rich and titled of Dub- lin's citizenship. We motored also a little to the south of Dublin and visited Clontarf, where the famous battle was fought on Good Friday in 1014 between the Irish and the Danes. In this battle Brian Boru was killed. Brian marched his army that day from Phoenix Park, where he was encamped, and defeated the Danes, but one of the fleeing Danish generals slew the aged Brian. There are two famed Cathedrals in Dublin. St. Patrick's Cathedral, where Dean Swift formerly preach- ed, is a fine cruciform church, in the early pointed style. In it there are monuments to both the Dean and "Stella" his wife. This Cathedral was founded in 1190 but had varied experiences in history. It was "restored" in 1865, at a cost °f over $800,000, by Sir Benjamin Guinness. The Roman Catholic Pro-Cathedral is in Marlbor- THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 115 ough Street, and is built in Doric style. The magnificent altar is of white marble. The music in the services is •especially fine. We planned to leave Dublin the first of the next week and continue our way southward. We spent a quiet Sunday at "Shaneville" attending divine services with the O'Neills. The next morning Edith obtained permission from her father and mother to take her much anticipated flight over Dublin. The ascent was made at ten o'clock. Edith was dressed in a neat-fitting white dress, with white gloves and veil to match, when she appeared on the lawn, ready to start. She looked so charming as she seated herself in the aeroplane, that I could not help exclaiming. "These Irish birds are rare creatures." "Watch the Irish dove and the American Eagle soar," said Mike, as he started the motor. We waved goodbye as the aeroplane rose in the air, and disappeared over the trees While they were gone Mr. O'Neill took me for a final stroll over his pleasant grounds. "I have never visited America," he told me, "but I am anxious to cross the Atlantic, and see your marvel- ous country. America holds the future." He expressed high admiration for the leaders in America, especially President Roosevelt and William Jennings Bryan. "I met Mr. Bryan a few years ago here in Dublin," he said. "We were all delighted with him. He is a THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND great and good man. He told me there was Irish blood in his veins and he was proud of it. Mr. O'Neill also expressed the highest admiration for Abraham Lincoln,, and called him a benefactor to all the world. I cordially invited him to visit the land of the Stars and Stripes. In half an hour Edith and Mike returned. Mike circled over the house, in his usual way before lighting- and then made a good landing just where he had started from. With her face flushed and happy, Edith stepped lightly to the grass. "Papa, papa," she cried, as Mr. O'Neill came for- ward to greet her, "You must get an aeroplane." "My child," said her fond parent, "I am afraid this, old bird has walked too long to learn to fly now." "What did you see?" I asked. "O, everything," she answered, "it was grand. We went away out as far as the Golf Grounds at Mala- hide, and all over Phoenix Park. Won't you comeback again Mr. Connor," she said, turning to Mike who was. standing beside his airship. ]\/[ike took of! his cap and bowed. "I surely will," he said so emphatically, that the color came to Edith's cheeks. As I looked at them, already such cordial friends, and realized that they had never met until a few days, before, I said to myself : "It's the Irish atmosphere." CHAPTER XVII WICKLOW, THE GARDEN OF IRELAND FTER dinner that day we bade our friends ~A J J farewell. Mr. and Mrs. O'Neill were urgent in their invitation that we visit them again. 'Goodbye," said Edith to Mike. "I am very glad I have met you, and I thank you for the pleas- ure of flying with you." "Do not mention it," said Mike as he held her hand, "You are such a brave aeronaut that I could fly with you anywhere." Edith blushed deeply as Mike's eyes spoke as well as his tongue. After we had ascended in the air, Mike circled around, like a carrier pigeon, and then sped off toward the south. As we entered County Wicklow, we left the sea- coast and crossed Wicklow about the middle of the County, passing over the Wicklow hills. This was the most exciting part of our entire trip. Wicklow has been called a miniature Switzerland, and it well deserves the name. There are over twenty mountains in this small space that exceed 2000 feet in height, and as they rise abruptly from the level, they seem even higher. Scattered among these hills, there are beautiful val- 118 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND leys, magnificent mansions, villas, farms and Irish cot- tages. Much of the country is thickly wooded. The Woods of Shillelah are in Wicklow. ( Here the best blackthorn, out of which Ireland's ancient weapon was made, used to grow, and the weapons were called "Shil- lelahs" from these woods. In order to see the grandeur of Wicklow to the best advantage, Mike and I threw discretion to the winds. The motor had been acting so well since we left County Derry, that we had full confidence in it now. "Let us go over the tops of the mountains," I said to Mike. He was glad to do this, and rose until we reached the dizzy height of 2500 feet. I would not advise aero- planists to seek this altitude until they are thoroughly ac- climated to life in the atmosphere. I had become somewhat hardened to aeroplaning,. but as I looked straight down sometimes into a deep valley, half a mile below me, I did not feel altogether at my ease. The view was magnificent. We passed over the Valley of Glendalough, between the mountains of Coom- aderry and Lugduff. In this dark valley, by the side of a lake, St. Kevin lived in an early day. His fear of womankind has been immortalized by Moore. Formerly in this valley there was a crowded city, and a great seat of learning, and many kings are buried in this vicinity. We saw here the ruins of the Seven Churches, and a Round Tower, said to date back to the 7th century. THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 119 As we entered the vale of Avoca, I remarked to Mike that Thomas Moore had touched Ireland with his genius, just as Sir Walter Scott threw a charm over Scotland. The vale of Avoca is best known by Moore's lines : "Sweet Vale of Avoca, how calm could I rest, In thy bosom of shade, with friends I love best; Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease, And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace." Although the scenery through Wicklow was grand, I felt relieved as we quitted our lofty altitude, and sailed nearer the earth over the more prosaic County of Wex- ford. As Mike lowered the aeroplane within about ico feet of the land I breathed easier. Wexford was the home of Dermot McMurragh, who first invited the English into Ireland. The ruins of his castle and his tomb are near Ferns, but Wexford is not particularly proud of McMurragh. Wexford has been called by an Irishman, "the most agricultural county in Ireland," and we could well be- lieve it as we swept over its green pastures and cultivated farms. We sighted the city of Wexford at 4 :oo o'clock. As we circled around over the city, I observed its excellent harbor, with a complete breakwater, and also its spacious docks. The city looks like a city in Palestine on account of its narrow streets, but it is a clean, prosperous look- ing place. 120 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND We alit, as usual outside the city, and left our aero- plane for the night in charge of a friendly farmer. We made our escape as quietly as possible from the gath- ering crowd, and soon found the quiet of a good hotel. The Redmond family, noted Irish leaders, reside in Wexford, and the spirit of the dislike to England is very pronounced. We saw two magnificent churches called the Twins, on account of their similarity. These show the religious zeal of the people. The business part of the town showed their commercial enterprise. The Quay is a busy place as steamship lines run to England, and there is much traffic in merchandise be- tween Wexford and England, but there is none in affec- tion. Before retiring for the night we met an interesting old Irishman, whose whole soul was controlled by hatred of Cromwell and England. He had none of Mr. O'Neill's charity for ancient wrongs, and, as he told us of Crom- well's Wexford campaign, we could sympathize with him a good deal. To show us how Ireland regarded Crom- well, he quoted from an Irish poet, a few lines, which ran something like this : "From Drogheda that man of guilt To fated Wexford flew, The red blood reeking on his hilt Of hearts to Erin true. He found them there — the young, the old, The maiden and the wife; Their guardians brave in death were cold, Who dared for them in strife. THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 121 They prayed for mercy, God on high Before Thy Cross they prayed, And ruthless Cromwell bade them die To glut the Saxon blade." After a while we turned the old patriot's attention to America, and we found he had a deep interest in the New World. "It's God's country over there," he told us. We found he had friends in America, and he gave us a ludicrous verse in which some Irishman had de- scribed the American character. "He'd kiss a Queen till he'd raise a blister, With his arms round her neck, and old felt hat on And address a King by the name of Mister, And ask him the price of the throne he sat on." Mike and I assured him that the Irish poet was too severe on the Yankee. "Tell us a good Irish story," I said, before we separated. "I will that," he said, and he told us this one. An excited orator during the American Civil War, exclaimed : "We have taken Atlanta : we have taken Savannah, Columbus, Charleston, and now at last, have captured Petersburg, and occupy Richmond : and what remains for us to take?" An Irishman in the crowd shouted : "Let's take a drink." As he closed the story our genial friend pointed to- wards the bar of the hotel in a significant way, and we 22 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND saw the direction of his joke. We declined politely to show our friendship in this way, but we bade him good- night with a warm handshake and best wishes for the good of Ireland. CHAPTER XVIII BACK AGAIN TO CORK 7«=sK5=2pJ E left Wexford the next morning in a misty VM h\ rain. "I am glad I put a rain-coat on my aero- plane," said Mike as the rain came down in a regular pour. We did not enjoy that morning's sail from Wexford to Waterford. In an hour's time we saw Waterford arise out of the mist. Like Wexford, Waterford is an import- ant seaport, built on the banks of the Suir river. The name of this beautiful river is a vile slander. Much agri- cultural produce, and bacon and live stock are shipped from here to England. The city was able to defend itself against Cromwell in 1649, an d was the only place in Ireland that did not fall before the terrible charge of Cromwell's Ironsides. I was able to see, though indistinctly, the Cathedral, where Strongbow, Ireland's first English master, lies buried. This arch-enemy of Ireland is surely well buried as he has also a tomb in Dublin. Strongbow married the daughter of Dermot McMurragh on the battle field near Waterford where he defeated the Irish. Lord Roberts has a home in Waterford, and it was here he grew up and developed those fighting qualities which have made him England's foremost soldier today. 124 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND Water ford was founded by the Danes in the ninth century. The antique iron bridge across the river, and the docks, a mile long, are notable features of the mod- ern city. There is one interesting relic of the Danish period still standing near the docks. It is a large round tower, about 50 feet high, which was built by Reginald, the Dane, in 1003. At present it is a police cell. We left Water ford with the rain still falling, and went up along the banks of the Suir to Portlaw, a small manufacturing town. Near here we flew over Curragh- more, the stately mansion of the Marquis of Waterford. The desmense covers 5000 acres, and is a beautiful nat- ural park, with many slopes, and dells. There is an ancient castle beside the modern mansion. In this part of Ireland Sir Walter Raleigh and Ed- mund Spencer lived. We soon saw Youghal, on the coast, where Raleigh lived, and where his old house still stands. Edmund Spencer was a close friend of Raleigh's. He was an English poet but became associated with Ire- land because he wrote the "Fairy Queen in the Emerald Isle" in 1589 and 1590. He would be more popular in Ireland today only, unfortunately, the Maiden Queen Elizabeth gave him a present of some 3028 acres of Irish land. The Queen's title to this piece of real estate was not considered very good by the Irish, and they have never forgiven Spencer for accepting it. THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 125 Sir Walter Raleigh also accepted a big farm of over 40,000 acres in Ireland from this same Maiden Queen, whose real estate transactions in Ireland were consider- able, but Raleigh has been partly forgiven because he gave Ireland the potato. It was nearly nine when we whizzed over Youghal, and circled around it twice. We dipped, as we flew over the harbor, until we were within thirty feet of the water, and aroused excited cheering from the crowd watching us on the docks, as we turned and rose high again over the city. I discovered Myrtle Lodge, Raleigh's old home in Youghal. It was ivy clad, and well preserved, and the grounds around it neatly kept. I was delighted to see the garden of Myrtle Lodge. It is almost as sacred to the Irishman as the Garden of Eden. In this garden in 1586 Sir Walter Raleigh planted the first potato ever grown in the Emerald Isle. He brought the seed from the West Indies, where they had been carried by the Spanish from Peru, the potato's native home. It was a century after this before the sterling quali- ties of the potato were appreciated fully, but now that useful tuber is adopted as Ireland's own darling veget- able. Sir Walter Raleigh was quite a gardener, as well as having a reputation as a soldier, an author, a courtier, an explorer, a statesman, and a lover. In some respects he was the Theodore Roosevelt of his age. Doubtless 126 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND he inherited his genius for gardening from his first par- ent, Adam. He brought the seed of the cheery from the Azores, and planted the first cherry tree in this famous garden, as it is said all the cherries in the United King- dom can trace their descent back to Youghal. We were now only thirty miles from Cork. As we left Youghal, and the landing place of the potato in Ire- land, the heavy clouds suddenly made up their minds to decamp. They at once scattered in all directions, and in fifteen minutes the sun was shining just as though it had been with us all morning. Then it was that it occurred to us that the sudden changes of Irish weather were not always a disadvantage. If it rains easy, it also clears away easy. I was glad to see the fields of Cork again. We fol- lowed the railroad line most of the way from Youghal to Cork. We met a train again on this road, and had another noisy greeting from the engine and passenger coaches. As we neared Cork, and saw the magnificent Cork Harbor, stretching down to Queenstown, I turned to Mike and said : "Mike, Ireland is a great country, and you and I have seen it the last few days as nobody has ever seen it before. The aeroplane will give to Ireland a new fame throughout the world." "We have had a big time," said Mike simply, but I knew he was the happiest man on earth, or rather in the air. THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 127 As we were circling around preparatory to making a landing, I repeated enthusiastically the words of an Irish poet : "O Ireland, isn't it £rand you look : Like a bride in her rich adornin', And with all the pent-up love of my heart, I bid you the top o' the mornin'." We landed at 10 :oo o'clock on the very field we had left only a few days before. If Columbus, when he set foot on America, felt any bigger than we did as we stepped out of our aeroplane at Cork that day, he must have felt bigger than Goliath. CHAPTER XIX OUR LAST DAY IN IRELAND SEEING TIPPERARY E spent the rest of that day around Cork. Going to the steamship office we found our liner would call at Queenstown on the second day. We had one more day for sightseeing. "Mike," said I, "let us start early tomorrow morn- ing, and spend our last day seeing Tipper ary." "Agreed," said he. He carefully overhauled the motor, and we had all in readiness for a second flight from Cork the next morning. We flew direct toward County Tipperary. Our first place of interest was Cashel, the former Capital of Minister. As we entered Tipperary and skimmed over its green acres, I entertained Mike by quoting to him a de- scription of a Tipperary man : "Strong is his form, his heart is warm, His spirit light as any fairy: His wrath as fearful as the storms That sweep the hills of Tipperary. Lead him to fight for Fatherland, His is no courage cold or wary ; The troops live not on earth could stand The headlong charge of Tipperary. But meet him in his cabin rude, Or walking with his dark-haired Mary, You'd swear they knew no other mood, But mirth and love in Tipperary." THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 129 When I had finished, Mike returned me the favor by singing, with the motor as an accompaniment, a famous Tipperary song: The words of it are: 'Oh, Paddy, dear, and did you hear the news that's going round ? The shamrock is by law forbid to grow on Irish ground; No more St. Patrick's Day we'll keep, his color can't be seen, For there's a bloody law agin the wearin' o' the green. I met with Napper Tandy, and he tuk me by the hand, And he said, 'And how's ould Ireland and how does she stand?' She's the most distressful country that ever yet was seen, For they're hangin' men and women for the wearin' o'the green." When he had finished I said : "Mike, an Irishman could not sing that any better than you." "An Irishwoman could, though/' said Mike, and then he continued, "You ought to have heard Edith sing that very song as we were flying over Dublin. I thought I was in heaven, and was hearing the angels sing." "When you landed after that trip you both looked as though you had been in the seventh heaven," I an- swered. Just then we sighted the rock of Cashel, and our thoughts were turned into other channels. Cashel, like Tara, is only a memory. Formerly it was a place of the greatest importance all over the south of Ireland. Now it is an unimportant village. The famous rock of Cashel still stands, crowned with the ruins of the old Cathedral, King Cormac's Chapel, and a Round Tower. This cele- brated rock is a mass of limestone, rising steeply out of 130 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND the plain to the height of 300 feet. Here formerly the Kings of Minister were crowned, and here, in 1172, Hen- ry II. was declared King of Ireland. St. Patrick preached at Cashel when it was a Royal Court. We circled the Rock twice to the utter amazement of the inhabitants of the village. I doubt if we made more stir anywhere than in Cashel. Passing on towards Thurles, we saw one of the finest monastic ruins in Ireland, Holy Cross Abbey. The ruins are of great antiquity, but are well preserved, and they are quite extensive. The Cruciform church is still extant enough to show lines of great beauty. This was a former" Sanctuary of the O'Briens of Limerick. From Thurles we went directly west to Limerick. Limerick is one of Ireland's oldest cities, and it looks it. It is built on the Shannon river, and Limerick Castle still frowns over that noble stream. This old castle is well preserved. Limerick, like so many of the towns around the coast of Ireland, was founded by the Danes. It has been the scene of some stirring Irish history. Two famous sieges were endured by this city in the 17th century. In 1 65 1, the English besieged and captured Limer- ick under General Ireton. On capturing the city, Ireton hung Bishop O'Brien, an outrage deeply resented by the Irish people. In 1690 the forces of William II. invested Limerick, after the victory at the Boyne, and the garrison was THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 131 compelled to capitulate. The treaty of capitulation was signed on a large stone, since called the "Treaty Stone." This Treaty afterwards was shamefully violated by the English Government, and to this day Limerick is known in Ireland as "The City of the Violated Treaty." As we flew over the city I saw this famous stone, on a pedestal, near Thomond Bridge. I also saw the ancient Cathedral which adorns the city. The present popula- tion of Limerick is only 40,000 as the city has lost heav- ily in recent years by emigration to America. The chief business at present is butter-making, but lace and linen are also produced. There are fine docks and a good ex- port business, as the Shannon is easily navigable at Limerick. There was one other spot in Ireland we wished to see. We could not finish up our aeroplane trip without flying over Glengariff, which has been called the loveliest spot in all Europe. We made a rapid return flight from Limerick to County Cork. We sped past the Kerry Mountains, beyond which lay Killarney, but we did not attempt to cross them. It was still early in the forenoon when we reached Bantry Bay. Glengariff means "Rugged Glen" and the scenery is rugged enough in places but it is undoubtedly one of the finest scenes in the world. A mountain stream runs through the lovely valley, which is crossed by many picturesque bridges, before it empties itself into the waters of Bantry Bay. Thackery said if Glengariff were in England, it would be one of the world's wonders. 132 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND The climate is remarkably mild all the year and the wild flowers grow in profusion. We passed directly over the little village of Glengariff, and saw Cromwell's Bridge. This is a bridge said to have been damaged, as so much else was during Cromwell's visit in the neigh- borhood. Our minds, our hearts, our souls were full of the beautiful scenes of the Emerald Isle, when we turned to- wards Cork for our final flight. Before we reached the more level land, beyond the hills of Bantry Bay, we had one of our worst experiences with the aeroplane. While crossing a very broken, and hilly stretch of country, covered with stone fences, small cabins, and mountain garden patches, without any warn- ing, the motor again stopped suddenly. I cried out to Mike to land at once. He was com- pelled to alight, for, when the motor is dead, an aero- plane is like a bird with two broken wings. With the rocky ground, stone fences, and little garden-patches, it was the most difficult descent Mike had to make. He saved the aeroplane from a smash-up only by lighting squarely on the roof of one of the little thatched cabins. As we landed on it, a man, his wife and several children rushed out and gazed at us in silent wonder. We climbed down as best we could, and explained our plight. While the man went away to get some of his neighbors to assist us in getting the aeroplane down on the ground, I looked the cabin over. It was not a beautiful sight when seen close at hand. A vile-smelling manure pile THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 133 was heaped in front of the door, and the rude stone walls were most unsightly. The thatch looked as ancient as some of the old ruins we had lately seen. The cabin had only one room. Chickens ran in and out along with the children, and as I entered inside, I saw "the pig in the parlor," for the one room was the kitchen, dining room, parlor and bed-room combined. Part of the cooking was done outside during fair weather, and a pot of potatoes were boiling over a peat fire beside the cottage. There was a baby in the mother's arms, and I counted six other children around her. Pallets of straw showed where the nightly rest was obtained. The floor was nothing but hard mother earth. A table, two rough chairs, and a stool, with a rough cupboard completed the furnishings. A few pots lay near the peat fire under the hole, which was meant for a chimney. There was no window. The one door furnished all the light and air. I found out afterwards that such cabins were occu- pied only by a comparatively few, even of the poor in Ireland. The Government is at present working among these poor peasants, and in a few years it is expected such hovels will be banished forever from the island. This was a "bog-trotter" cabin, such as is only found in the hilly and desolate regions, where birds, to say nothing of men, find it hard to get a living. The woman was cordial and self-possessed, and did not seeem to mind the squalid surroundings. She offered us some of the cooked potatoes, and as we ate them out 134 THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND side the cabin, taking them in our hands, they tasted as good as though they had been cooked in a palace. A few neighbors soon gathered and helped us get the aeroplane down from the low roof. While Mike was getting ready to start again, I talked with the owner of the cabin. He seemed cheerful and pointed out to me his potato patch, his "food and drink." He told me about the mountains that could be seen from his cabin, and named several of the more import- ant hills. I noticed that a number of the names had the "devil" in them. One peak he called the "devil's Needle." Another hill, with a hollow place in its side was the "devil's Bit." I thought I would see if there was any Irish in him, and I said : "His Satanic Majesty seems to own a great deal of property among these hills, judging by their names." "Indade he does, sor," said this son of Erin, "but he is like most of our landlords, he makes his headquarters in London, sor." I saw it was no difference where you find him, in palace, mansion, villa, cottage, cabin or even hovel, an Irishman is always the same. Everywhere you will find him genial, witty, good-natured. It must be the effect of the Irish atmosphere. When Mike had the motor going again we soon made our ascent aloft, leaving our Irish cabiners watch- ing us in awe. We reached Cork again shortly after noon. After THE TRUTH ABOUT IRELAND 135 a brief rest, we spent the rest of the day in taking the air- ship to pieces, and re-packing it. Next morning we were ready for our ocean voyage and took the early train from Cork to Queenstown. Five days later we reached New York. We had been absent considerably less than a month. Mike has since returned to Ireland. He did not take the aeroplane, but he took along a big trunk. When he returns, as he will in a few weeks, the Connor house in New York State, will have a beautiful young Irish girl as its queen, and my good friend, Mr. O'Neill will come out to America next year to see his daughter, Mrs. Mich- ael Connor. Such was the strange ending of our aero- plane trip. As I think of it, I often say to myself: "It was the result of the Irish atmosphere." BOSTON COLLEGE mi iif! z 3 9031 01 64621 y * DA CORKEY- 977 .C8 Bapst Library Boston College Chestnut Hill, Mass. 02167 HI ■H