EDINBURGH CASTLE. BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED. \ ^ —\ E^ Its People and Princes.— Its " Pleasures and Palaces. A GRAPHIC AND INTERESTING NARRATIVE OF A DISTINGUISHED AMERICAN woman's TOUR OF ONE YEAR AMONG THE LEADING ATTRACTIONS OF EUROPE; SKETCHING HER VISITS TO VARIOUS COUNTRIES, HER EXPERIENCES IN HUMBLE HOMES AND ROYAL PALACES, AND HER FULL SHARE IN THE VARIED PLEASURES OF THE HIGH AND THE LOWLY. By grace greenwood. EDGEWOOD PUBLISHING CO. DEDICATION. To my publishers and my dear friends, William D. TicKNOR and James T. Fields, of Boston, and to their friend and mine, Francis Bennoch, of London, I gratefully anc heart ly dedicate this volume. GRACE GREENWOOD. m CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAGE The Voyage out. — Jenny Lind. — Captain West. — Custom House. — Landing. — The Country. — Liverpool. — Mr. Martineau. — Bir- mingham. — Joseph Sturge. — Warwick CaJstle. — Stratford on Avon. — Coventry, 1 CHAPTER II. Nottingham. — Lincoln. — Newstead. — Hucknall. — Kenilworth. — London. — Barry Cornwall. — Westminster Abbey. — The City. — Mr. Cobden. — Hyde Park. — Houses of Parliament. — Lord Carlisle. — Mary Howitt. — Prorogation of Parliament. — The Queen. — Martin Tupper. — Miss Mitford, 21 CHAPTER III. iSfewgate. — Model Prisons. — Mr. Dickens. — Walter Savage Landor. •-Charles Kemble. — English Hospitality. — Mr. and Mrs. Hall— a* (V) Vl ^ CONTENTS. Joseph Mazzmi. — Albert Smith. — Zoological Gardens. — British Museum. — Windsor Castle. — Stafford House. — Bridgewater Gal- lery. — Mr. Kingsley. — A Literary Party. — Astley's. — The Docks. — The Tower. — Greenwich. — The Opera, — Grisi. — Mario. — The Tomb of Milton, 45 CHAPTER IV. Wales. — Irish Channel. — Dublin. — Cork. — Blarney Castle. — The Blarney Stone. — The Country. — The People. — Monkstown. — En Route for Killamey. — Glengariff. — A Character. — Killamey. — Excursions. — Ascent of Mangerton. — The daik-bearded Tourist.— Koss Castle. — " Paddy Blake." — The Shannon. — Limerick. — Dub- lin. — Sir Philip Crampton. — Model Prison. — Lunatic Asylum. — Donnybrook Fair. — Dublin Society, 75 CHAPTER V. Wicklow. — Vale of Avoca. — Devil's Glen. — Valley of the Seven Churches. — St. Kevin. — Lough Bray. — Sir Philip Crampton.— Giant's Causeway. — Castle of Dunluce. — North of Ireland. — Bel- fast. — Lough Neagh. — Religious and Political Questions. — Anec- dote, lOJ CHAPTER VI. Ayr. — Alloway. — The Birthplace of Bums. — The Monument. — Mrs. Begg. — Glasgow. — ^Loch Long. — Loch Goil. — Inverary. — Tarbet. — Ascent of Ben Lomond. — Loch Lomond. — Loch Katrine. — Stir- ling. — Edinburgh. — Holyrood. — Melrose. — Abbotsford. — Dry* CONTENTS. VH burgh. — Newcastle upon Tyne. — York. — The Minster. — London. -~ Hampton Court, ..• lltf CHAPTER VII. Paris. — The Louvre. — The Madeleine. — Place de la Concorde.— Chapel of St. Ferdinand. — Neuilly. — Hotel des Invalides. — Tomb of Napoleon. — Notre Dame. — Pere La Chaise. — Versailles. — Avignon. — Papal Palace. — Inquisition. — Pont de Gard. — Vau- cluse. — Marseilles. — Voyage to Genoa. — Genoa. — Cornice Road, — Pisa. — Voyage from Leghorn to Civita Vecchia. — Rome. — The Coliseum. — The Catacombs. — Tomb of Cecilia Metella. — Appian Way. — Baths of Caracalla.— Columbaria. — Capitol. — Via Sacra, . 141 CHAPTER VIII. Bt Peter's. •»- Statues. -— Sistine Chapel. — High Mass. — The Pope. — Aspect of the City. — Of 'the People. — Peasants. — Beggars. — Soldiers. — Priests. — "Works of Art. — The Apollo. — The Dying Gladiator. — The Cenci. — Villa Borghese. — Tivoli. — Ascent of St. Peter's. — The Coliseum by Moonlight. — The English Burying Ground. — Graves of Keats and Shelley. — A Religious Procession. ^Albano. — A Ride on the Campagna, . .......... 169 CHAPTER IX. Christmtis and New Year's Ceremonies. — The Holy Cradle. — High Mass at St. Peter's. — The Pope. — Cardinal Antinelli. — Te Deum at tXe Gesu. — Jewish Synagogue. — The Campagna. —'Doria and Vm • CONTENTS. Corsini Palaces. — Portrait of Lucrezia Borgia. — Monastery of St. Onofrio. — Tomb of Tasso. — Propagandist College. — Art. -~ Modem Artists. — Overbeck. — Tenerani. — Steinhauser. — Gibson. — Miss Hosmer, I9b CHAPTER X. American Artists. — Crawford. — His "Washington Monument.— Mr. Story. — Mr. Greenough. — Mr. Mozier. — Mr. Page. — Blessijig of the Beasts. — The Carnival. — Races. — The Mocoli. — Ball. — Ro- man Nobility. — King of Bavaria. — Meeting the Pope. — Veil. — Storms 2W CHAPTER XI. iVashington's Birthday. — The Emeute at Milan. — Italian Freedom. — The Papal Supremacy. — Beggars. — Models. — Tableaux Vivants. — Guide's Aurora. — The Colonna. — The Quirinal. — Drive on the Appian Way. — Peasant Boys. — Cardinals' Receptions. — The Spring Time in Italy. — Character of the Italians, political and religious. — Ceremony at St. Peter's. — High Mass at the Sistine, ...... 243 CHAPTER XII. A Gallop on the Campagna. — The Church of the Cappuccini. — The under-ground Cemetery. — "Visit to the Galleries of the Vatican by Torchlight. — Holy Week. — Palm Sunday. — The Miserere in the Sistine Chapel. — Scene at the Entrance. — The Ceremonies of Holy Thursday. —The Crowd and Crush. — The Pope waits upon the Apo«- CONTENTS. IX ties at the Table. — Miserere in St, Peter's. — Washing the Al- tar, and Exhibition of the Relics. — Scene at the Trinita dei Pelle- grini, 264 CHAPTER XlII. Holy Friday. — The Scala Santa, at St. John Lateran. — The Three Hours' Agony. — Miserere in the Choral Chapel. — Ceremony of Bap- tism at St. John Lateran. — The Benediction of the Pope. — The niumination of St. Peter's. — Fireworks on the Pincio. — Fair at Grotta Ferrata. — Peasants. — Costumes. — Frascati. — The Tomb of Charles Edward. — A Donkey Ride to ancient Tusculum. — Spada Palace. — Statue of Pompey, 290 CHAPTER XIV. Last Bays in Rome. — Set out for Naples. — The Pontine Marshes.-*- Terracina. — Mola di Gaeta. — St. Agata. — Capua. — Vesuvius.— Neapolitan Beggars. — Naples. — A Row on the Bay. — The Museum. — Herculaneum. — Pompeii. — Salerno. — Poestum. — Amalfi. — La Luna. — The " Tarantella." — Sorrento. — Unfortunate Trip to Capri. --Return to Naples 3l'8 CHAPTER XV. Ascent of Vesuvius. — Museum. — Group of the Famese Bull. — Bronzes from Herculaneum. — Pompeian Curiosities. — Virgil's Tomb. — Grotto of Posilippo. — Pozzuoli. — Lake Avemus. — Cuma. — Baia. — Temple of Mercury. — Lake Fusaro, the ancient Styx. - : CONTENTS. The Elysian Fields. — Baths of Nero. — Grotto of the Sibyl. — Beg gars. — Festa of San Gennaro. — The Miracle. — The Lazzaroni.— The Churches of Naples. — Grotta del Cane. — Aspect of Naples.— The Solfatara. — Last Visit to the Museum. — The Balbus Family. — Fompeian Works of Art. — The Catacombs. — The New Cemetery. — The Pits. — A Drive through the Haunts of the Lazzaroni. — The Prisons, • 332 CHAPTER XVI. y oyage to Leghorn. — Leghorn. — Florence. — The TJffizi. — The Trib- une. — The Venus de Medici. — The Fomarina. — The Pitti Palace. — Fiesole. — House of Michael Angelo. — Dante's Stone. — The Cascini. — Charles Lever. — Mr. and Mrs. Browning. — Hiram Pow- ers, his Studio. — Group of the Niobe. — The Grand Duke. — The Santa Croce. — The Medicean Chapel.— Michael Angelo's monu- mental Groups. — Last Drive in the Cascini. — Adieu to Florence. — Journey through Tuscany. — Bologna Gallery. — Ferrara. — Cathe- dral. — The Castle. — Cells of Ugo and Parisina. — Prison of Tasso. — House of Ariosto. — An Adventure at the Custom House. — Padua, its Clocks and Sights, ... 352 CHAPTER XVII. Arrival at Venice. — The grand Canal. — The Square of St. Mark, the Church.- Palace of the Doges. — The Dungeons. — Bridge of Sighs. — Academy of Fine Arts. — Titian's great Works. — The Churches of Venice. — Evening in the Piazza. — The Manfrini Pal- ace. — Byron's Palace. — Venice by Moonlight. — The Rialto. — The Arsenal. — The Armenian Convent. — The Gondola. — Festa of Cor- CONTENTS. XI pus Domine. — Hospital of San Servolo. — The Civil Hospital and Madhouse. — Sequel of the Adventure of Santa Maria Maddalena. — VejTona. — House of Juliet. — Milan. — Cathedral. — Chapel of San Carlo. — The Brera. — The Biblioteca Ambrosiana. — Lock of Lucrezia Borgia's Hair. — Theatre. — Condition of Milan. — Air of the People. — Austrian and Hungarian Troops. — Public Drives and Promenades, •/. 372 CHAPTER XVIII. Lake Maggiore. — Isola Bella. — Sanctuario of the Virgin. — Lake Corao. — Villa D'Este. — The Pliniana. — Prince Belgioso. — Pasta'a Cottage. — Taglioni's, — Churches. — Bormeo. — Ascent of the Alps. — Pass of the Stelvio. — The Ortler Spitz. — Glaciers. — Mais. — The Tyrol. — Pass of the Finstermunz. — A Shooting Match. — Cos- tumes and Manners of the Tyrolese Peasants. — Innsbruck and its Sights. — Tagemsee. — Floods. — Women working in the Fields. — Munich. — The Royal Palace. — Pictures. — Lola Montes. — Galleries and Churches. — Colossal Statue of Bavaria. — The Opera. — The King and Queen, 401 CHAPTER XIX. Btrasbourg the Cathedral. — Paris. — Annual Exhibition of Paint- ing and Sculpture. — The Emperor and Empress. — Abdel Ka- der. — London. — A Tale of a Hat, — Frederic Freiligrath. — Sir Henry Bishop. — Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall. — Runnymead. — The Camp at Chobham. — Pontooning at Virginia "Water. — Conversazione at the Lord Mayor's. — Distinguished Guests. — Xll CONTENTS. The Duchess of Sutherland. — Crystal Palace at Sydenham. — Ascent of St. Paul's. — Consumption Hospital. — German Play. — Emfl Devrient. — A Farewell Visit to Kossuth. — Mazzini. — Adieaz. iSl CHAPTER I. The Votaoe out. — Jenny Lind. — Captain West. — Custov Hotrsa. — Landing. — The Country. — Liyerpool. — Mb. Maktine^.u. — Birmingham. — Joseph Sturge. — Warwick Castle. — Stratfori* ON Avon. — Coventry. LlYERl'OOL^ JUJVB 10, 1852. The gallant steamer Atlantic, on which I came out pas- senger, sailed from New York on Saturday, the 29th of May, a sunny and quiet day. As Jenny Goldschmidt and her hus- band were on board, an immense concourse of people were assembled at the landing, on the docks and vessels near by, to see them off. They stood on the wheel house with Captain West, bowing, smiling, and waving their grateful farewell. As with a parting gun we bounded from the shore, the heart gave one last, wild, agonized throb for friends and home, then sunk into depths of dread unknown before. Yet that thronged and beautiful city, that magnificent harbor, white with count- less sails, pldbghed and overs wept with busy life, was a glo- rious sight, seen even through tears. As we approached Sandy Hook, the atmosphere grew hazy, and before we were out at sea we were enveloped in a dense fog, and obliged to come to anchor, where we remained some fifteen hours. We -passed this time very pleasantly, in ex- ploring the ship, chatting, writing letters to send back by the pilot, eating and sleeping. I awoke late the next morning, and found we were at sea in earnest. I remember very little more of that morning, except it be the incident of my finding out, as by instinct, the use of a queer little utensil of painted tin, a sort of elongated spittoon, wliich stood by my washstand. 1 (1) Z HAPS AND MISHAPS OP I performed my toilet as speedily as circumstances woultl allow, and hurried on deck, where I soon found myself quite well. The day was delicious beyond what words may tell. The air was fresh, yet the sea tranquil, and the sur shine rich and warm. There seemed a sort of strife of beauty, a rival ship of brightness, between the heaven above and the waters below, and the soul of the gazer now went floating off on the green undulations of the waves, to where they seemed to break against the sky, or dreamed itself away into the fathomless blue, in a sort of quiet, wordless ecstasy — " the still luxury of delight." Then came on the night — our first night at sea. The wind had freshened, the sails were set, the ship shot through the gleaming waves, scattering the diamond spray from her prow, and the moon was over all. As it went up the sky, its course was marked by a long reach of tremulous radi- ance on the deep. It seemed to me like the love of the dear ones I had left, stretching out towards me. But there came a yet higher thought — that such a path of brightness must have shone under the feet of Jesus when he " walked on the water" toward the perilled ship. Two pleasant days and nights followed, during which many agreeable acquaintances were formed among the passengers. My seat at table was on the left of Captain AVefst, and oppo- site the Goldschmidts. Otto Goldschmidt, husband of Jenny Lind, impressed me, not only as a man of genius, but of rare refinement and nobility of character. He is small, and deli- cately formed, but his head is a remarkably fine one, his face beautiful in the best sense of the term. He is fair, with hair of a dark, golden hue, soft, brown eyes, thoughtful even to Badness. I have never seen a brow more pure and spiritual than his. Yet, for all its softness and youthfulness, Mr. Gold- echmidt's face is by no means wanting in dignity and manli- ness of expression. There is a maturity of thought, a calm strength of character, a self-poise about him, wliich in press you more and more. A TOUR IN EUROPE. 8 The pure and graceful Greek column makes no solid or de- fiant show of strength, like the unchiselled stone or the jagged rock, yet it may be as strong in its beauty and perfect propor- tions, and were decidedly pleasanter to lean against. I believe that Jenny Lii^d in her marriage followed not alone the im- pulses of her woman's lieart, but obeyed the higher instincts of her poetic and artistic nature. For the first few days of our voyage, she seemed singularly shy and reserved, I have seen her sit hour after hour by her- self, in some unfrequented part of the vessel, looking out over the sea. I often wondered if her thoughts were then busy with the memories of her glorious career — if she were living over her past triumphs, the countless times when the cold quiet of the highest heaven of fashion broke into thunders of acclamation above her, and came down in a rain of flowers at her feet. Was it of those perishable wreaths, placed on her brow amid the glare and tumult of the great world, she mused ' — or of that later crowning of her womanhood, when softly and silently her brow revived from God's own hand the chrism of a holy and enduring love ? Was it the happy, loving wife, or the great, world-renowned artiste, who dreamed there alone, looking out over the sea ? On Wednesday, our last really bright day, I espied a spent butterfly fluttering its brilliant wings on one of the ship's spars. It had been blown all that distance, the captain said. I could hardly have been more surprised if the spar on which it had lit had blossomed before my eyes. This day and the one following, many of the gentlemen and some of the ladies amused themselves with the game of " shuffleboard." We had among the passengers three right reverend bisliops, one of whom joined heartily in this play. I was amused by the style of address used toward him occasionally. " Now, bishop, it's your turn ! " " Go ahead, bishop ! " X thmk it were scarcely possible for a ship to take out a 4 HAPS AKD 3fT9nAPS OP finer set of passengers than we had. Intelligent, agreeable kindly, all seemed striving for the general enjoyment ; and had the elements continued propitious, the entire voyage would have seemed like a pleasant social party, " long drawn out." On Thursday, woe's the day ! we were otF the banks of Newfoundland — the fogs became chill and heavy, and towards night the sea grew rough. The next morning I found it quite impossible for me to remain on deck, even with overshoes, blankets, and shawls. The wind from the region of snows cut to one's very bones. It brought to mind strange pictures of seals crawling from iceberg to iceberg, and of young polar bears diverting themselves by sliding down ice precipices three hun- dred feet high. I sought the saloon in despair, where, as wind and sea rose, and the ship lurched and rolled, I all too soon grew ready to admit our friend Horace Greeley to be the truest of sea prophets, the honestest of voyagers. A strange thing is this physical sympathy with elemental disturbance — the tumult witliout answered by " that which is most within us" — the surge and heave oceanic — the surge and heave stomachic and responsive — " deep calling unto tl'^ep." But we will not dwell on it. For three days and nights I was really a great sufferer, but I had plenty of companionship in my misery. Very few of the passengers escaped seasickness entirely, and many were very ill. Mr. Goldschmidt suffered severely ; his wife was not affected in the ordinary way, but underwent much from nervousness, restlessness, and fear. Yet I saw the true love- liness of her nature more than ever before. She Avent from one to another of the sick with a kind vvord and a sweet, saa smile ; and for my part, 1 feit ihat such words and such smiles were not too dearly bought, even by a lit of seasickness. WliMt lover could say more ? My state room was too far aft for comfort ; I could not en- dure it after llie rough weather came on, but, day and night A TOUR IN EUROPE. occupied a sofa in the saloon, where, with blankets, cushions, and pillows, I was made as comfortable as circumstances would allow. I could not have had in my own father's house kinder or more constant attention, and a father could not have cared for me better than did Captain West. He more than answered my expectations — more than fulfilled the pledges and justified the praises of his friends. A plain, honest, generous-hearted sailor, yet every inch a gentleman. I trust he will pardon, as I am sure that many, very many, will echo, my simple, invol- untary expression of gratitude and esteem. On Tuesday morning, about ten o'clock, I was helped on deck to catch the first sight of land. The sea had " smoothed his wrinkled front," the whid had gone down somewhat, and the sun shone out fitfully. Every body was on deck — all, even the invalids, in high and eager spirits. At last the welcome cry was heard, and dimly through the mist was seen the high and rocky shore of Ireland — blessed old Ireland ! sv)ate Ireland I the gem of the sea ! No name seemed too fond or poetic to apply to it at that moment. Cape Clear for a long time belied its name ; bvit finally the fog lifted, and we saw coast, rocks, and lighthouses very distinctly. The last dinner on board ship was very pleasant, though there were no speeches ; and Captain West, with character- istic modesty, slipped out before his health could be proposed ; 60 we had no response from him. The approach to Liverpool has been often enough described. I will only say, that the shores, seen through a drizzling rain, and even the city, seen under a black cloud of coal smoke, were sights welcome and beautiful to my sea-wearied eyes. About twelve o'clock the custom-house officers came on board, and the examination of baggage commenced. Lady passenge-rs, who had suffered throughout the voyage from a nervous dread of a stern official rHDsacking of carpet bags, 1* € HAPS AND MISHAPS OP and from the belief that it is through much tribulation in the way of tumbled trunks and exposed nightcaps that we enter into the kingdom of Great Britain, were then most agreeably disappointed. Trunks were opened indeed, but by no means a minute examination made of their contents. A sealed package lay on the top of my trunk. The officer politely asked me what this contained. " An American book," I an- swered. " Will you tell me its title ? " " Uncle Tom's Cab- in^'' I replied, " O, we will pass ' Uncle Tom's Log Cabin,' " he answered, laughing. The tide not allowing the Atlantic to go into the dock, we were landed by a small steamboat. "We left our beautiful ship and noble captain with a feeling of regret, and all hands and voices joined in three hearty cheers for both. The expected arrival of Madame Goldschmidt — the peo- ple's Jenny Lind forever — liad assembled a large crowd, but the presence of a strong police force kept down all enthusiastic demonstration. On landing, Liverpool first struck me as differing from our seaport towns, in having a vastly greater number of docks, vessels, police officers, ragged boys, red-faced men, barefooted women, and donkey carts. The Adelphi^ the best house in Liverpool, does not compare with our first-class hotels, either for comfort or elegance. The attendants are respectful and kindly enough, but provokingly slow. They are eternally " coming." WooLTON, June 14. From Liverpool I came here, where I have spent some days, quietly, but most delightfully. " Rose Hill," the resi- dence of Dr. M , in whose family I am visiting, is quite apart from the village of Wooltpn, and is certainly one of the loveliest places I have ever seen. The house is approached Ky a winding road, through a dense little forest of beautiful A TOUR IN EUROPE. 7 trees, is surrounded by highly-cultivated grounds, and over- looks a wide and varied extent of country. O, the glorious old trees, the beautiful green hedges, the gorgeous flowera of England ! What words of mine would have power to set them whispering, and waving, and gleaming before you ? I never shall forget the effect wrouglit upon me by the sight of the first flowers I saw, born of the soil and blossomed by the airs of Old England. It may be thought strange, but the first tears 1 shed after my last parting with my friends at New York fell fast on the fragrant leaves, and glistened in the^ rich, red heart of an English rose. In some mysterious depths of association, beyond the soundings of thought, lay the source of those tears. I have had a wet welcome to the laiid of mists and show- ers. It has rained every day since my arrival, yet every day we have had some hours of beautiful sunshine, and the sweet freshness of the air compensates for the unseasonable coolness. Strange and delightful to me are the long English twilights. Think of the sun hanging on till nearly nine o'clock, like a pleasantly-entertained visitor, reluctant to retire. The nights here are deliciously cool and quiet. Then, no one, without the actual experience, can imagine the luxurious rest and "sweet release" of one, who, after having been cribbed up in the narrow berth of a steamship for a dozen or more nights, may " spread The loosened limbs o'er a wian English bed." ^ As for me, afler four days and nights' toilsome occupancy of a narrow sofa, without the advantage of previous " prac- tice on a clothes' line," recommended by my friend E , I really could not sleep at first,- for the pleasure of the change. I tried one soft pillow, then another, in the very daintiness of repose. I made sundry eccentric exc 'rsions, exploratioM fi HAPS AND MISHAPS OF of the vast extent of unoccupied territory around me. 1 measured the magnificent length and breadth of the elastic mattress beneath me, and wraj^ped myself regally in the lavender-scented linen. Owing to my continued indisposition, and the rainy weath- er, I have as yet seen little of Liverpool and its environs. The docks are the great pride of the city. Fancy more than seven miles of continuous docks filled with shipping. St. George's Hall, a new building, is said to be one of the finest in the world ; I certainly have never seen any thing hand- somer. Many of the churches here are elegant and impos- ing structures, but none more tasteful, quaintly, and quietly beautiful than the Hope Street Unitarian Chapel, where Mr. Martineau preaches. I brought letters to this gentleman, and on Saturday was at his house. I found him, in personal appearance, all I looked for. The pure, fervid, poetic spirit, and the earnest eloquence which adapt his writings alike to the religious wants, the devotional sense, the imagination and the taste of his readers, all live in his look, and speak in his familiar tones. He is somewhat slender in person, with a head not large, but compact and perfectly balanced. His perceptive organs are remarkably large, his brow is low and purely Greek, and his eyes are of a deep, changeful blue. There is much quietude in his face — native, rather than acquired, I should say — the repose of unconscious, rather than of conscious power. About his head, altogether, there is a classical, chiselled look — the hair grows in a way tt. enchant an artist, and every feature of his face is finely and clearly cut. But the glow of the soul is all over. On Sunday morning I enjoyed a pleasure long hoped for, and never to be forgotten, in hearing him preach one of those wonderful discourses in which his free but reverent spirit seems to sound the profoundest depths of the human soul, to unveil the most solemn mysteries of being, and to reach A TOUR IN EUROPE. 3 tLosii divine lieia;hts to which few have attained since Paul and .lohn were caught up and rapt away from earth, in holy visions and heavenly trances. We dined and spent the night yesterday at Seaforth Hall, an elegant seaside residence, belonging to a wealtliy manufac- turer of Liverpool. Here I saw a pleasant water view, lofty rooms, beautiful conservatories and hothouses, pictures, and statuary ; and, what was better, very agreeable people, and genuine English hospitality. As far as the style of li\ ing and manners are concerned, I as yet have remarked little difference between Liverpool and Boston. EDGBASTOy, BlRMlXGHAM, JUNE 17. I left Liverpool on an afternoon of unusual brightness, but plunged iiumediately into a young night, in the shape of the longest tunnel I ever passed through. Tliey tell me it is scarcely noticeable, compared with one between this place and London ; but it will do to begin with. The English first- class railway carriages are more luxurious than ours. Sub- stantially made, softly-cushioned and curtained, nothing can surpass them for comfort ; while they have a John Bull ex- clusiveness about them, each carriage being calculated for six passengers, and no more. So rapid is the rate at which they run, and so smooth the rail below, such an absence is there of noise and dust, that it is even difficult to believe we are going at all. When I closed my eyes on the scene, I was really bewildered ; but when I looked out on the whirling landscape, I was forced to the conclusion that either the trees and hedges were having a grand gallopade, a furious coun- try dance together, and, what was more unlikely, venerable churches were recreating themselves w'ith a wild steeple chase, or that we were under glorious headway. The country between Liverpool and Birmingham, as far as my dizzied sight would allow me to judge, seemed flat aud 10 HAPS AND MISHAPS OF uninteresting. But the glory of a most luxuriant summer greenness and bloom is over it all. A peculiar and constant joy to me is in remarking how every where the simplest cottages of the common people are built and adorned with taste, and kept with the utmost neat- ness and care. Many of them are exquisite miniatures of the residences of the rich — with sweet little lawns, and flower plots, like children's playgrounds, diminutive hedges, tiny trellises, and gravel walks scarcely a foot wide. My friend Mr. Sturge met me at the Birmingham station, and drove me out to his place at Edgbaston. It rained hard, and the twilight was deepening, when I arrived : but I was received into the warmth and light of a pleasant little draw- ing room, opening into a conservatory of beautiful bright flowers. I was met with sweet words, and sweeter smiles of welcome, by the lovely young wife of Joseph Sturge, and by his fair children — quaint, Quaker specimens of child beauty, which is found in its rosy perfection in " merrie England." I felt thoroughly at home and at rest from the first ; and then, that very night, after I had retired to my room, there was sent to me, all unexpectedly, a package of letters from America ! It were impossible for one to conceive, as for me to describe, my emotion on beholding these. I actually grew faint w^ith excess of joy ; and after having come safely over the salt seas, there was danger of their being rendered illegi- ble by a briny greeting on shore. And yet, I had been parted from the writers but seventeen days. Ah ! the poet is entirely correct — " Time is not of years." Mr. Sturge's place is retired, modest, and unpretending in every way, but very lovely. The smooth, closely-cut lawns are a perpetual pleasure to my eye ; next come the hedges, the ivies, the honeysuckles, the hollies, and glossy-leaved laurels. Roses and rhododendrons are now in full bloom; peonies are a-flamc ; the May tree is a little passe, but tha A TOUR IN EUROPE. 11 laburnum is yet in its golden glory, and with its long pendent branches, all in flower, seems pouring itself down, in a bounteous royal shower, reminding one of Jove's aurifer- ous courtship of Danae. The most beautiful tree I have yet seen in England i3 the copper beech ; at least, it has tlie finest effect amid other foliage. There is one in the line of trees skirting the lawn before me, which, with its dark, rich tint, looks, amid the surrounding bloom and verdure, like a Rembrandt in a gallery of bright, modern paintings. Delicious and countless bird notes are quivering through the mcist air all day long. I have already heard the cuckoo, the blackbird, and the thrush ; and English poetry and English life will henceforth be the sweeter to me for their remembered strains. I have seen some fine bloodhorses since my arrival, but I actually admire most the powerful dray horses of Ijver- pool. They are magnificent great animals. I shall never have done wondering at the little donkey carts, or, rather, at the immense strength, and no body, of the donkeys them- selves. I had no idea that this really estimable, though much contemned animal, any where existed in such small varieties. While driving, the other day, our carriage was run into by one of these same donkey establishments, the awkward driver of which was, by several sizes, the greater ass of the two. Cattle, pigs, and poultry are, as far as I have seen, finer here than with us ; because, I suppose, so much more care- fully kept. There is, of late, a rage for rare poultry here, as in the United States. Cochin China fowls, in especial, sell at a preposterously high price. The EngHsh home style of living does not differ widely from our own, except that it is often simpler, and always quieter. I notice that the table at meals is usually decked 12 HAPS AND MISHAPS OP with flowers — a beautiful custom we should do well to adopt. The manner of an English gentleman toward the American visitor is polite and considerate, but sometimes a little too marked. At a dinner party, the other day, during a little playful discussion of Yankee character, a bland and benevo- lent-looking old gentleman at my side informed me that he iiad come to the conclusion that the wooden-nutmeg story was neither more nor less than a mischievous satire. " For," said he, " there would be such an amount of minute carving required to make a successful imitation of the nutmeg, that the deception would hardly pay the workman. For myself, 1 do not believe the cheat was ever practised." I thanked him in the name of my country for the justice done her, and assured him that the story of the Yankee liaving whittled a large lot of unsalable shoe pegs into melon seeds, and sold them to the Canadians, w^^s also a base fabrication of our enemies. We have curious weather — chill, driving showers, alter- nating w^ith bursts of w^arm, effulgent sunlight — and often sunlight and shower together. According to a popular tradi- tion of our country, a certain gentleman in black is, at this season, administering marital discipline with unusual fre- quency and severity. Evening, — We have just returned from a pleasant drive into the country, some four or five miles, to see the old Handsworth Church, and Chantrey's monument to James Watt. This is within the church, but curtained off by itself; is a plain, large, white marble pedestal, supporting a sitting, life-size figure of the great inventor. It is a beautiful work of art, and a form and face of noble character. The church itself is a curiosity for its great age. It con- tains some effigies in stone, said to be more than five hundred years old. There is a knight in complete armor, with a \ery A TOUR IN EUROPE. 13 dandilied waist and enormous thighs, and a slim lady, with a tight-fitting shroud, crowded against the wall behind him. Tlie good dame's frill has suffered some dilapidation, and the gallant knight is minus a nose. The high, quaint old pews impressed me most. I at once imagined little David Copperfield sitting in one of them, with his mother and Peggotty. By the way, you can have no idea of the luxury of reading Dickens in England. On our way back, we stopped for a half hour at a fine cemetery, from some heights of which I caught my first real view of the town in all its industrial grandeur and smoky maornificence. Within these grounds we encountered the beadle, in all the pomp of his parish livery. He was a stout man, and of course dignified to solemnity. Seeing him unoccupied, I ventured to make some conversation with him, and must acknowledge that he met my advances in a most gracious and un-Bumble-like manner. I asked him if they buried the poor in layers, and in a common grave. " Yes, mem," he replied, " but it often 'appens, quite agreeably, that members of the same family go into the same grave. When- ever we can, we lay them together, or not many bodies apart — we try to make them comfortable^ mem'^ A distant sight, beheld on our drive this afternoon, was a new monastery, occupied solely by renegade clergymen from the church of England — a haunt of priestly owls, scared by the light and freedom of the time back into the cloistered gloom of the dark ages. What a precious set of cowled conservatives ! To-morrow I visit Warwick Castle, Kenilworth, and, it may be, Stratford upon Avon. Splendid stuff for dreams, such a prospect. JUNE 18. My first full view of Warwick Castle is hung in my memory a picture of beauty and grandeur, which must be 2 f4 HAPS AND MISHAPS OP *' a joy forever." As we rode into the old town, we paused on a noble stone bridge over the Avon, where the linest view is obtained. It had been raining, but the shower w,a^ now past, and the sun out in dazzling radiance. The air was freshened with a pleasant wind, and sweetened with roses, and, from the tower of an old church near by, mellow-toned bells were ringing the morning chime. At our left stood the castle, with its dark, battlemented walls, its hoary tuirets.. and gigantic towers. As the Earl of Warwick was at home, we were obliged to stop at the porter's lodge, while our cards were sent up tc him, and leave accorded to us to see the castle. But we were well amused by the portress, who showed up the famous porridge pot of the redoubtable Earl Guy, with his armor, sword, shield, helmet, breastplate, walking staff, flesh fork, and stirrup. These are a giant's accoutrements — the sword weighs twenty pounds, and the armor of the knight and that of his steed are in proportion. The faith of the old retainer in the marvellous legends >tie rehearsed was quite edifying. She assured us that Earl Guy was nearly ten feet in height, and that he was accustomed to take his food from that identical porridge pot, which hoidi? one hundred and two gallons, and which, on the occasion M the present earl's eldest son (Lord Brooke) coming of ai?«4. was filled with punch three times a day for three days, %r the people. After receiving his lordship's graciously-ac- corded permission, we passed up a noble passage, cut Id solid rock, some eight or ten feet deep, and prettily ovp,r. grown with moss and ivy, leading to the outer court. A> I walked slowly on, my thoughts went back three hundrf*d years, when knights and ladies gay went dashing up this pHf«, followed by fair pages and fairer maids, dainty minstrels ^.nH jolly friars, faithful esquires and stout men-at-arms. I co:ii we did remark a sort of improvised window in one other. In a low, miser- able hovel, belonging to a carman, we found a horse occupy- ing full a thiixi of the scanty room ; and above his manger a small opening had been made through the mud wall, the good man having found that the health of the animal required what himself and his family lived without — air. To the mistress of this unique habitation, whose one apartment served for kitchen, sleeping room, stable, and hall, I said, in horrified amazement, " How is it possible you can live with that horse?" " Sure, miss, he's no throuble," she replied ; "and it'si little room he takes, after all ; for the childer can sleep on the straw, under him, just, and creep between his legs, and he niver harming them at all, the sinsible cratur." It is a common thing to see hens drying their feathers by the genial peat glow, and pigs enjoying the pleasures of the domestic hearth. In another cabin we found two curious old crones, living together on apparently nothing, who loaded us with blessings in the original tongue, and actually went on their knees to offer up thanksgiving for a few halfpence, which we gave as a consideration for intruding on their retire- ment. Yet, though living in low, smoky, ill-ventilated cabins, — often with mouldering thatches, and always with damp earth floors, with a pool of stagnant water or a dunghill before the door — though themselves ill fed and but half clad, it is a singular fact, that the peasants of southern Ireland are ap- parently a healthful and hardy race. You occasionally see fine specimens of manly and childish beauty among them ; but a pretty Irish peasant girl we found the rarest of rara «4 HAPS AND MISHAPS OP avi.ses. There are some families of Spanish origin abou( Bantry, and of these we encountered one or two dark-eyed, olive-cheeked beggar boys, who seemed to have leaped out of one of Murillo's pictures. The policemen every where are a particularly fine-looking set of fellows ; indeed, none but well- made, tall, and powerful men have any chance of enrolment in this honorable, teiTor-inspiring, omnipresent corps. The professional beggars of Ireland seem a peculiarly hopeless and irredeemable class — not because of the poverty of the country alone, but from their own inherent and inherited idleness and viciousness. They are persistent, pertinacious, sometimes impudent, and often quick witted and amusing. A friend of ours was waylaid by a certain " widdy " woman, with an un- limited amount of ragged responsibilities at her heels. On hearing her doleful story, our friend advised the fair men- dicant to take refuge in the poorhouse. " The poorhouse ! " she exclaimed ; "• sure it's meself that keeps the poorest house in all Cork, yer honor." I was amused by an appeal made by an elderly dame to one of our fellow-passengers : " Here's a fine fat gentleman ; sure he'll give a sixpence to a poor bony body that hasn't broken her fast at all the day." If you wish to take a meditative walk among the hills, the chances are that you will return with a considerable ragged retinue ; but the lai-ger detachments of this ignoble army of almsseekers are stationed along the public roads. They make their startling sorties from the most lonely, wild, and inaccessible places ; like Roderick Dhu's men, they leap up from " copse and heath." Every rock hides a waiting men- dicant, and every tuft of broom stirs as we approach with a lurking tatterdemalion. They leap on your way from behmd walls, and drop down upon you from overhanging trees — • small footpads, or rather paddies, who present palms instead of pistols, and blarney and worry you alike out of pence and patience. A TOUK IN EUROPE. 85 After a day of wet and weary travel through a melancholy country, we enjoyed to the utmost the beautiful approach to Eantry, under a clear and sunny sky, and welcomed with en- thusiasm the sight of its lovely and famous bay. But even this bright vision was soon eclipsed by Glengariff, where we spent the night. Thus far on my tour I have seen nothing to compare with the glorious beauty of that place. In all the solemn shadows of its wild loneliness, the dark deeps and frowning heights of its grandeur, in all the sweet lights of its loveliness, it lives, and must ever live, in my charmed mem- ory ; but I will not attempt to picture it in words. After dinner, though a light rain was falling, we took a row around the bay, and remained on the water until the night set in. I think we shall none of us soon forget that row over the smooth and silent bay, in the rain and deepen- ing twilight, under the shadows of mountain and rock. The scene would have been too wild, solemn, and awfully lonely, but for the peculiar wit and story -telling talent of "Jerry," our guide and helmsman. He entertained us with some wonderful legends of a certain Father Shannon, a priest, and a famous character in this region about half a century ago. One anecdote illustrative of the holy man's quickwittedness impressed me as an instance of " cuteness " passing the cute, ness of Yankees. " The good father," says Jerry, " was one day fishing, in his boat, on the bay, when he heard a swarm of bees buzzing about him. Then he begins to rattle with a knife, or spoon, in an iron kettle he had with him in the boat, till he feels that all the bees have settled on his shoulders. Then he slyly reaches back, and takes hold of the tail of his shirt, (begging your pardon, ladies !) and he suddenly turns it over his h ad, bees and all, and puts it into the kettle, which he covers over in a second just ; and so he takes the whole swarm to Lord Bantry, and sells them for three pounds, and get? his shirt back, too, yer honor." 8 S6 IIAPS AND MISHAPS OF I am tempted to relate several of Jerry's stories, so pe- culiarly and richly Irish were they — odd, wild, extravagant, and ludicrous, yet now and then sparkling with a fine fancy, ar a rare poetic thought, and in their drollery quaint and quiet, never coarse or common. But I should get on slowly indeed with the story of my tour if I paused to do justice, either by description or quotation, to the originality of character, the spirit and humor, the warmth and generousness of feeling of many of the Irish peasantry with whom I came in contact. The mountain road from GlengarifF to Killarney is a splendid specimen of engineering, and leads through scenery wild and beautiful in the extreme. On the sunny morning of our leaving Glengariff, landscape and air were fresh and de- licious after the night's abundant rain, and with thrills and palpitations of inexpressible joy my heart responded to the gladness of nature. I shall never forget the childish ecstasy of delight with which I gazed around me, and drank in the fragrant air of the morning. The three lakes of Killarney descended upon by this road are likely to disappoint the tourist, especially if he be an American, more especially if he be a reader of, and a devout believer in, Mrs. Hall's beautiful and most poetical book, "A Week in Killarney." In truth, such fairy sheets of water seem little to deserve the name of lakes at first, but they grow on your respect rapidly as you approach ; their beauty is, neai or afar, quite exquisite and undeniable, and the mountains which surround them are really very respectable elevations. Our first visit was to the Tore Waterfall, by far the most beautiful cascade I have seen since coming abroad. The fall is between sixty and seventy feet ; the glen into which the water comes leaping, and foaming, and fiashing is wild and rocky, and overhung with richest foliage. We passed Lord Kenmare's noble demesne, and drove fhrough the village of Killarney to our hotel, the Victoria^ A TOUR IN EUROPE. 87 which is charmingly situated on the shore of the lower and larger lake. We found the house crowded with visitors of all characters and degrees — the elegant and the vulgar, the coarse and the refined, with the usual number of undefinable and unclassable betweenities. While taking tea in the coffee room, we were struck by the mien and manner of a traveller near us. He was evidently a person oppressed with a con- sciousness of his own consequence, and bent on having the world do its part towards bearing his burden. He gave out his orders to the wondering waiter with a military sternness and a startling rapidity ; but, strange enough, ended each sen- tence with a sort of draw^l. He was clad in a monotonous suit of checked tweed, with an extravagant cravat — a John Bull, without doubt, yet black browed and full bearded — a curious cross between a Cockney and a Cossack. After tea, this unique individual swaggered up to one of our party, a very gentle- manly-looking person, and accosted him as he was passing down the hall with a " Pray, are you one of the waiters of this hotel ? " " No ; are you ? " coolly responded our friend. In the morning w^e were so fortunate as to be able to en- gage for our guide, during our stay, the Stephen Spillane so honorably mentioned by Mr. and Mrs. Hall. We found him a young man of good education, much general intelligenct^, gentleness, and even refinement of manner. Our first expedition was to the Gap of Dunloe, a wild and gloomy mountain pass, especially interesting to the reader of Gerald Griffin's fine novel of The Collegians, as the scene of poor Eily Connor's happy honeymoon and tragic taking of!l Our guide furnished myself and a pleasant English friend with ponies — the remainder of the party took a car. Though tolerably well mounted, and able to abruptly cut the company of the old, crippled, and blind of the begging fraternity, we found that we had small adv antage over the boys. The fleet-footed little rascals kept up with us for miles — one 88 HAl'S AND MISHAPS OF juvenile Celt, literally sans culotte, but in a shirt of elder- brotherly dimensions, giving us a sort of Tarn O'Shanter chase. A pretty, dark-eyed boy, running by my side, held up a bunch of purple heather and wild honeysuckle, saying, with an insinuating smile, " Plase, my lady, buy these ilegant bright flowers, so like yer honor's self, this beautiful summer morn- ing." What woman could resist such an appeal ? At the entrance of the Gap we were met by a detachment of volunteer guides, and a company of " mountain dew " girls — maidens -with cans of goats' milk and flasks of " potheen," with which they are happy to treat the traveller, for a consid- eration. After listening to some grand echoes, called forth by ihe rich bugle notes of our guide, we proceeded through llie pass. This, by itself, did not equal our expectation ; its finest feature is the "Purple Mountain," which in the glorious sun- light of that morning was beautiful beyond conception. From Lord Brandon's demesne we embarked upon the upper lake, rowed among its fairy islands, and ran down " the long range" to the middle lake — pausing for a little gossip with the echoes of " Eagle Nest," and shooting " Old Wier Bridge " on our way. The bay and mountain of Glena are the gems of Killarney. Even now, looking back upon the scene through the sobered light of recollection, it is all en- chantment — the shore gorgeous with magnificent foliage, the waters flashing with silver gleams, flie sky golden with sunset light ; and it is difficult for me to believe that there is under the broad heaven a lovelier spot. Even the echoes from tliis beautiful green mountain seemed clearer, yet softer and more melodious, than any we had heard before. We took dinner on shore, in a delicious little nook, shad- owed by arbutus trees, dining off a large rock, some seated a la Turc, some reclining in the ancient Oriental style. O, we had merry times! And what with toasts and songs, and legends, and joyous laughter ringing out, peal on peal, over A TOUR IN EUROPE. 89 the still water, the wonder is we failed to rouse the great O'Donaghue, who, according to popular tradition, dwells in a princely palace under the lake, and only comes to the surface to take an airing on horseback every May morning. Our row homeward, throuo;h the soft lins-erins sunset lijrht, with the plash and murmur of the blue waves, rising with the rising wind, heard in the intervals between the sweet songs of our guide, was a fitting close to a day of shadowless pleasure. In the coffee room we encountered our black-bearded tour- ist, quite " knocked up," he averred, by the duties of the day. He had actually "done" the ascent of old Carran Tual, twice — once on his own account, and once (most amiable of his sex !) for a friend. That evening we listened to the fine music of Gandsey, the i^elebrated Irish piper, a truly venerable man, very old, and quite blind, who plays his ' native melodies with touching ex| session, waking the old sorrows of Ireland and making them wail again, and giving proud voice to her ancient glories, till you believe that her lost nationality "is not dead, but sleepeth," and must yet rise to free and powerful life. On the following morning, with our pleasant friend Sir Thomas Deane, we visited Muckross Abbey, a fine, pic- turesque old ruin. The cloisters, the refectory, and the chapel are in comparatively good preservation. In the latter lie the bones of the great MacCarthy Mor, and, it is thought, of the O'Donaghues, with the exception, of course, of him who preferred the lake to holy ground, waved his privilege of Christian burial, and his chance of canonization, it may be, for his aguish palace, aquatic court, and questionable submarine existence. After taking leave of the solemn old abbey, we commenced the ascent of Mangerton, a mountain two thousand seven hundred and fifty-four feet in height — a merry party of six, all pony-mounted. Here we were joined by a very 8* 90 HArS AND MISHAPS OF large company of volunteer guides, and attacked, front, flank, and rear, by an Amazonian troop of " mountain dew " girls. Barren and rugged as was that drear ascent, we found it a land flowing with goats' milk and whiskey; and at every pause which we made to breathe our ponies, or to treat our- selves to a fine view, twenty cups were held to our lips, twenty voices prayed us to drink, for present refreshment and future good fortune — that "the Lord " might "carry us safe" up that perilous steep, and grant to us and our families, to the remotest generation, health, wealth, honor, and " pace." Near the summit of the mountain we came upon a deep, dark, little lake — one of the devil's punch bowls; for his satanic majesty, who seems jovially inclined, has several in Ireland. The prospect from the summit of JNIangerton is very exten- sive, and truly magnificent. AVe rested and revelled in it, for a bright half hour, on the breezy mountain top. Here we again encountered the dark-bearded tourist. Disdaining all pony aid, he had done Mangerton, as he did Carran Tual, on foot. But the trimness of his toilet, and the morning freshness of his mien, had suffered somewhat* from the heat and toil of the day. His raven whiskers were whitened with dust, his hat had a backward inclination, his pantaloons were tucked into his boots, his coat of tweed was borne by the guide, his shoulders were free from the bondage of braces, which were twined carelessly about his waist, his cravat %vas untied, and he was at loose ends generally. Plere he was first gracious enough to make some conversation with me : — " Madam, may I ask if you are an American ? *' " I have that honor, sir." «Aw — I the ught so; something in the manner a little peculiar — aw. Have you spent much time in London?" " About two months." " Aw — a great place is London — quite a world, I may 4 TOUR IN EUROPE. 91 Bay. You would like the literary society of London, exces- sively, if you could once get the entree ; but it is difficult to do that, very difficult — aw." " Indeed ! I have not found it so." After a little more talk of this sort, our friend called to his guide, and was off. In a few minutes we saw him on an opposite peak, and very soon dashing down the mountain, to- wards Killarney. He seemed to give no pause for resting or " prospecting." " March ! march ! " seemed to be his word, as he were the Wandering Jew on an Irish tour. On our descent, my English friend abandoned his hard- gaited pony and the beaten track, and plunged down the mountain side in a more direct course, on foot. Piqued by this ungallant desertion, 1 made a rash vow to follow in the very footsteps of my faithless cavalier. Such a chase as he led me, through boggy hollows, down rocky ledges, over small chasms and natural ditches, while the above-mentioned volun- teer guides and mountain dew damsels followed close upon our track, uttering exclamations of delight and astonishment, sometimes more emphatic than pious — perhaps recognizing in this reckless love of fun and adventure a spirit kindred to their own. After a charming drive through Lord Kenmare's demesne, we dined in a picturesque cottage, on the lake shore, from which place we rowed to " sweet Innisfallen," and wandered at twilight among its deep, shadowy groves, and the solemn ruins of what, ages and ages ago, was the noble temple of learning and letters. From Linisfallen we went to Rosa Castle, a grand old ruin, once the stronghold of the O'Don- aghue, besieged and destroyed by Cromwell, the great spoliator of Ireland. Here the fine-frenzied tourist turned up for the last time — he rushed past us as we were entering, and was quickly lost in the ruins, but appeared afterwards at variou? points and parapets. He did the old castle, as he had done the 92 HAPS AND MISHAPS OF otiier sights, in an incredibly short time — dashed down to his boat, flung himself in, ordered the men to push off — " away flew the liglit bark," far into the deepening twihght, and the black-whiskered tourist passed from our siglit forever. As for us, we lingered till long after nightfall in the beautiful grounds of Ross Island, or on the lake before the castle, hold- ing pleasant converse with the famous " Paddy Blake," the prince of echoes. " Paddy ! " cried our helmsman, with a stentorian voice, " do ye know who's been paying a visit to yer ould castle ? Listen, then, till I tell ye : the rose, the thistle, the shamrock, and the wild flying aigle ! " Paddy seemed duly to appreciate the honor, for he repeated the words of the boatman as though in joyous surprise. It was odd to hear those dark, grand, ivy-mantled palace halls ring- ing with blithe bugle notes and jolly laughter — talking in such a free and easy w^ay — vocal with so rich a brogue. That last night we enjoyed a merry tea-drinking together, in a private parlor, and early in the morning set forth, by stage coach, for Limerick. As to the Victoria Hotel, the least said by me the better for its reputation. I constrain my- self to silence in regard to the broken bell wires and other dilapidations in my apartments, trusting in the truth of the proverb, " The least said, the soonest mended." In our out- door life at Killarney, our only serious annoyances were beggers and midges. Between the two, you bleed at every pore. With the heavy mist of a dull, wet morning, Nature let down the drop curtain on the scene of all our enjoyment at Killarney. I think we all felt and looked a little blue as we took our places on the outside seats of the stage coach, and Bet forth for Tarbert, on the Shannon. Nor were the views and objects on our way such as were calculated to raise our spirits or kindle our enthusiasm. The country was a weary, boggy waste, with few-and-far-between patches of cultivation A TOUR IN EUROPE. VC and homes of comfort. The cabins of the peasants were the most miserable of imaginable and inhabitable places — the peasants themselves were yet one depth of wretchedness be- low any we had seen before. Now and then we passed an ivy-wreathed castle tower, which had once frowned in em- battled strength on hosts of assaulting foes ; or the unroofed walls and mouldering cloisters of an ancient abbey, with the black rooks circling amid the arches through which the white incense of worship once stole, and screaming harshly above the aisles down which once rolled the pious priestly chant in fuU-voluraed melody. Every where we saw repeated the same sad picture — old Ireland in ruins, young Ireland in rags. Near Tarbert our driver pointed out to us what had been a good estate ; on a rising ground stood a large, imposing man- sion, but the plantations surrounding it had an appearance of utter desolation and abandonment. This was the proj^erty of a jovial Irish squire, who for many years kept open house, and lived in a rioting, rollicking way, entertaining his sporting friends with horses, and hounds, and oceans of good whiskey punch. But during the late general distress there was a scattering among the jolly guests, and the host himself, hunted by bai- liffs, stripped of out-door luxuries and in-door comforts — car- riages, horses, hounds, plate, furniture, library, wines, whiskey, and all — was obliged to abandon his mansion for a little thatched cottage, and actually to allow his anv*estral hall to be converted into a workhouse. There is something very like re- tributive justice in the fact that, in the walls which once rung and rocked to the revelries of the improvident master, the poor tenants, whom his heartless extravagance tended to re- duce to beggary, find in sickness and old age a quiet and com- fortable home. Tiie passage up the Shannon from Tarbert to Limerick was 94 HAPS AND MISHAPS OF an absolute delight — the river, a broad, clear, shining flood, sweeping between softly undulating, emerald shores, here and there made more beautiful by noble wooded estates and fine lordly towers. We drew near to Limerick through a long and gorgeous sunset, which overspread the heavens, wrapped the shore, and floated on the water, in a fine glory of golden light. It was a scene for the sense of beauty to revel in, not alone for the hour, but which vanished from the outward vision but to become one of the soul's fair, unfading pictures — an illuminated memory. We were greatly pleased with Limerick, which we found a well-built, pleasant, and apparently prosperous town. In the morning we took a car and drove to the rapids, above the city some five or six miles. These are exceedingly beau- tiful — grand, indeed, and very nearly equal to those of Niagara. We went down several of the least dano^erous in a long, narrow skiff, much like an Indian canoe, and I shall not soon forget the wild, almost mad excitement, the peculiar, peril-zested pleasure of the swift descent, when our little fairy bark seemed to leap fearlessly from ledge to ledge, yet quickly and cunningly to avoid all fatal enticing currents, sharp rocks lying in wait under cover of white foam, and angry waters whirling in delirious eddies. On our return to the city we visited the old cathedral, of whose melodious bells a beautiful and well-known legend is told. After an outside survey of the old castle, which is in a fine state of preservation, considering its great age, we visited one of the largest lace manufactories, in which I was pleased to see many poor girls employed, but pained to find them crowded into two small and ill-ventilated rooms. While breathing the close air of those workshops, and looking on the pale, worn faces of some of the toiling young creatures around me, the delicate beauty of the richest la le they wrought had gmall charm for even my feminine fancy. A TOUR IN EUROPE. 95 In one of our drives in Limerick we passed through a sort of rag fair, which showed us where the beggars obtained that marvellous variety of color and texture so remarkable in their costume. Here we saw some strange specimens of the last dire extremity of tattered civilization — - only to be distin- guished from savage scantness of apparel and imbruted stu- pidity by greater squalor and a sullen consciousness, which has not the grace of shame. We saw one lad whose whole attire did not boast of one ordinary garment, but who was literally hung with rags, by means of a cord wound about his body, sustaining fragments of every conceivable shape and color — so his entire costume was a curious piece of festoon- ing. Ah, there is little need for the tourist to pass through this part of Ireland, " spying out the nakedness of the land ; " it is thrust upon him at every turn. Yet you must not believe tliat all this outward wretchedness is real, necessary, and help- less. By far the larger number of those who apply to the travel- ler for charity are vagabondish in their instincts and indolent in their habits, and prefer to beg rather than to labor, either in or out of the workhouse. The professional beggar dresses, for his part, with as much care and skill as any other actor ; and the whine, the limp, the melancholy tale, blindness, palsy, widow's tears, and orphan's wails are often the results of laborious practice and splendid triumphs of art. You must bear this in mind, and " set your face as a flint," if you would enjoy Ireland. I have heard here an anecdote of a wealthy American gentleman, of large-hearted and tender-hearted benevolence, who, after making a tour through some of the poorer parts of the island, and scattering pennies among crowds of ragged urchins wherever he went, dropping a tear and a sixpence into every blind beggar's extended hat, or to every " poor widdy's " hand, returned to his hotel, in Dub- lin, a saddened man, and shut himself in his room to muse on the sorrows and sufferings of the innumerable host of per- 96 HAPS AND MISHAPS OF egrinating patpers, infantile, "maternal, juvenile, and ancient, which had thronged his way through many days. Suddenly he heard, somewhere without his door, a sweet voice, and the plaintive notes of a harp. " Ah ! " exclaimed the good man, " some poor creature, having heard of my benevolence, lias followed me here, and is appealing to my sympathies through one of the mournful olden melodies of her native land. What a meUing, heart-breaking voice ! Heavens ! what a touching strain wa* that ! I can endure it no longer;" and, with tear- ful agitation, he rings violently. "Waiter, I can't stand this — give that woman half a crown for me, and send her away." The waiter stood aghast, for the harpist and singer was a noble lady in the next room. But I must not loiter by the way in this manner. From Limerick to DubHn by rail. At the latter place I was taken quite seriously ill. Fortunately, perhaps I should say prov- identially, I had brought a letter of introduction to Sir Philip Crampton, the distinguished surgeon general of Ireland, and the father of the present British minister at Washington, who in this hour of need gave me the benefit of his world-renowned skill, taking from the good office all air professional, and giving to it the grace of a kind, friendly proffer, and the charm of a gentle, high-bred courtesy, as indescribable as it is inimitable. Thus circumstanced, my sick bed and I soon parted company. What I saw at Dublin after I got about, and during a brief subsequent visit, I will strive to recall and relate in few words. Our first visit was to Jhe Mount Joy Model Prison — con- structed and conducted very much on the plan of the Phila- delphia Penitentiary. We were most favorably impressed by the order and neatness evident throughout the building, and by the intelligence and humane feeling shown by the officers with whom we conversed. From the prison we went to the workhcuse, in the admirable management and orderly regula- A TOUR IN EUROPE. 97 tion of which we were greatly interested. It is an immense establishment, yet every where a system of cleanliness and thorough ventilation seems to prevail. The poor inmates are well fed and comfortably clothed ; their wants, physical, men- tal, and spiritual, are consulted, and, as far as possible, satis *ied. On the wliole, I was gratified and cheered by tlie visit. In the Lunatic Asylum, a truly noble institution, I saw greater varieties of insanity than I had ever remarked in any similar institution in my own country. Some were melan- choly in the extreme, some terrible, some grotesque, some merry and mischievous, and some, by far the saddest of all, dull, imbecile, and idiotic. It is strange, perhaps, but I never felt a more deep and solemn conviction of the immortality of the soul than when contemplating those various forms of in* sanity. To me the great light shone with an intenser glow, a more sacred and indestructible life, thus glaring from the wild orbs of frenzy, or faintly and fitfully gleaming from the heavy misted eyes of idiocy — like torchlight in a dungeon, or a star seen through drifting clouds, all the more vividly and star- tlingly real. I there felt that to despair of one of those poor creatures, capable but of one thrill of kindly sympathy, of love, or hope, or remorse — jf smiling on a child, or at the sight of flowers, or of greeting gratefully the pitying face of the stranger — were sin almost beyond forgiveness. I felt, that to say of the mind wandering for years in the dark waste of hopeless melancholy, and of the soul islanded away from all human companionship in the stagnant sea of unconscious idi- ocy, moaning up to God its inarticulate anguish, — to say of these, "they shall utterly perish," were blasphemy. It is strange that we do not learn more meekly from Nature, who goes on ever reproducing her works in beautified and glorified forms. The rough, dull seed arisii^ to a glorious resurrec- tion in the gorgeous flower, holding m her sweet chalice the purest dews of the skies, and the butterfly, freed from his 9 98 HAPS AND MISHAPS OF unsightly chrysalis, fluttering up at our feet, bearing the glory of heaven on his wings, should rebuke the unbeliever. ShaU such as these live again and again, and that fullest emanation of the Divine — the soul of man — be flung aside, as of no worth in God's economy, after one brief trial of existence ? We visited the grave of O'Connell, in the beautiful ceme- tery of Glasneven, where Curran is also buried. The coffin of the great " agitator," covered with crimson velvet, gor- geously wrought in gold, is exposed in the vault of a tempo- rary tomb. So we stood very near the dust of him whose overmastering eloquence had once stirred and swayed the minds of his countrymen, as a strong tempest rouses the sea and drives the wild waves before it. He did much for Ire- land, and she will keep his memory green. We visited the Royal Irish Academy, where we saw many curious antiquities ; the exhibition of painting and sculpture, where we saw a few good pictures ; and the beautiful Bank of Ireland, formerly the House of Lords and Commons. Hearing that the famous Donnybrook Fair was under full headway, a few miles from the city, we drove out one pleasant afternoon, hoping to see Irish character in some new varieties. But, on reaching the ground, we soon despaired of seeing much in this way, remarking every where the presence of those patent suppressors of popular spirit and jollity, individ- ual originality and fun — soldiers and policemen. It was a novel, a bustling, and crowded, but by no means an animating scene. Tiiere was every thing to be sold, and nothing seemed to be selling. There was plenty of eating and drinking, and nobody seemed the heartier or happier. There was every where evident an awkward eflbrt at enjoyment and amuse- ment, un-Irish and lamentable in the extreme. You heard little laughter or singing, and both the fiddling and dancing were mechanical and spiritless. There w^ere half a dozen heatres, and every variety of "show;" and for an hour A TOUR IN EUROPE. 9t> before the performance commenced, managers, actors, clowns, and "P^thiopian minstrels" paraded in fi'ont of their booths, sliouting and bidding for customers with furious ringing of bells and mad beating of drums. " Ladies and gintlemin, walk in and see the Roosian Lamberts the fattest man in the civilized world." " Ladies and gintlemin, let me warn you agin a chate, in a frindly way, just — sure it's no Roosian at all, but a poor divil from Skibbereen, fatted on turnips. Walk in here, and see an ilegant collection of monkeys, and a beau- tiful famale kangaroo, all for a penny." '' Ladies and gentle- men, come and patronize the h'gitimate drama, and witness the thrilling and bloody tragedy of Jack Sheppard at tup- pence an 'ead ! " As a matter of couioe, there was on the ground a large representation of beggars. I was struck by one poor old "cratur's" peculiar and touching blessing: "May the Lord bless yer honor, and yer honor's husband, prisint or to be, and grant you both health and pace, and many happy Donny- brooks!" As we were returning to our car, through a little crowded lane, I remarked to my friends, "It is quite true what we were told in Dublin — the glory of Donnybrook has departed since the advent of Father Mathew with his dispensation of teeto- talism, and the more perfect and powerful organization of police, both throwing cold water on its ancient spirit of tight and frolic. One now hears no singing of wild ballads, and sees no swinging of shillalahs ; there is an unnatural pix)priety, a dreary orderliness, a flat sobriety, prevailing here." Just then I was somewhat rudely pressed on by a sturdy young woman, who seemed, with elbows and knuckles, to be making a rough medical examination of my spinal vertebrae, testing the elastic properties of my ribs, and the temper of my shoulder blades. Shrinking from this severe infliction, I com- plained to the gentleman on whose arm I leaned of the too 100 HAPS AND MISHAPS. pressing attentions of the person behind me ; whereupon the damsel exclaimed, " I'm not behind you at all ! " following this astounding declaration with certain spirited expressions, and finally indulged herself in some remarks which I could but consider in*elevant, consisting of comparisons between ray personal appearance and her own, decidedly unfavorable to Hie former. This was the first inhospitable treatment I had received in Ireland. To have my slight feminine attractions, my humble claims to good looks, not alone questioned, but flatly denied, at that joyous ancient gathering-place, that high festival of the kindly Irish peasantry — Donny brook Fair — by a Donnybrook fair, was an unexjjected discourtesy. The society which we were so fortunate as to see in Dublin impressed us most agreeably. All you have heard of the beauty, intelligence, tact, and charming vivacity of Irish ladies, you may believe — you cannot believe too much. The Irish gentlemen, for gifts of conversation and entertainment, and for a warm, familiar, yet polished courtesy, are absolutely unsurpassable. Yet I have somewhat against them. I have frequently found them wanting in the spirit of nationality — completely Anglicized in thought and feeling. They, many of them, speak of Ireland and the Irish as though not of it oi them. An Irish aristocrat speaks of the poor peasantry very much as the southern American speaks of the blacks. My illness in Dublin cost me the relinquishment of a visit to Galway and Connemara, and the pilgrimage which I would gladly have made to the birthplace and "the Deserted Vil- lage" of Goldsmith. My friend Mr. B , who made this lour, was greatly charmed with the wild pieturesqueness of the scenery, and reported very favorably as to the character, con- rlition, industrial pro^spects, and educational privileges of the, ' eople. CHAPTER V. WiCKi^w. — Vale of Avoca. — Devil's Glen. — Valley of thi Seven Churches. — St. Kevin. — Lough Bray. — Sir Philip Crampton. — Giant's Causeway. — Castle of Dunluce — North OF Ireland. — Belfast. — Lough Neagh. — Religious and Po- litical iJuESTioNS. — Anecdote, September 18. On the 27th of August we left Dublin for a short tour in the beautHul county of Wicklovv. We discarded the car, and travelled quite luxuriously in an easy carriage, open, but shut- able at will, with a pair of fine horses, and a driver of staid and respectable demeanor, and personal appearance slightly suffjjfestive of the elder Weller. We set forth on a lovely morning, and soon found ourselves in a country of great natural beauty, and, as compared with southern Ireland, in a fine state of cultivation. Our first visit was to the " Dargle," a dark, romantic glen, containing a swift, silvery mountain stream, and a beautiful waterfalL It is not wild enough for grandeur, — a part of Lord Powers- court's demesne, it has too well-kept an air, — but it is a pretty, picturesque, and picnickish place. We spent an hour or two very delightfully, wandering through its cool quietudes and " sun-dropped shades." Our next visit was to the Vale of Avoca, immortalized by Moore in his song of " The Meeting of the Waters." I looked in vain in the little streams Avonmore and Avonbeg, in their wedding at Castle Howard, and in their subsequent two-in-otieness, their slov, sedate, matrimonial onflow, as the Avoca, for that "purest of crystal" which gleams in the 9 ♦ { 101 ) 102 HAPS AND MISHAPS OF song. The poet's words have a more silvery flowing thaii these waters, and this valley's " brightest of green " is sur- passed by the verdancy of the romantic tourist who comes hither hoping to behold a picture of entrancing loveliness, which was "all in the eye" of the melodist. The current of the Avoca is evidently discolored by the copper mines worked on its banks — most unpoetic and unlooked-for adjuncts to that " scene of enchantment." Yet, believe me, I felt a deeper pleasure in seeing the poor countrymen of the poet earning an honest livelihood by mining in those beautiful hills — rude avocation for the " sweet Vale of Avoca " — than I could have known in the perfect realization of his most exquisite dream. We next explored the "Devil's Glen" up to its beautiful cascade. His satanic majesty seems to have been a sort of surveyor general of Ireland at some remote period, and to have indulged his vanity by giving his name to all such places as particularly struck his fancy. The desire to send his fame down to posterity with this waterfall certainly does honor to his taste ; for surely I never saw, in any cascade, a more enchant- ing combination of grandeur and grace. The glen itself, lying deep and dark between two mountain ridges, is a wild and lonely place, which art has not yet profaned, nor " cus- tom staled." On the second day of our tour w^e visited perhaps the most wonderful place in Ireland — the " Valley of the Seven Churches," or the ancient city of Glendalough. Sir Walter Scott speaks of it as " the inexpressibly singular scene of Irish antiquities ; " and it surely is the haunt of shadows and the abode of mysteries. Between black, rocky, barren moun- tains, in a narrow, gloomy valley, containing two dark and almost fathomless lakes, are the ruins of a city founded early in the sixth century by St. Kevin, a holy and potent person- age, second only to St. Patrick in the pious and popular 'egends of this country In addition to the ruins of the A TOUR IN EUROPE. 103 Seven Churches, built on a singular diminutive scale, and in a rude style of architecture, there are the sepulchres of the ancient kings and church dignitaries, and, most curious of all, one of those mysterious round towers, the origin and purpose of which has so long constituted one of the knottiest of anti- quarian problems. The almost deathly quiet, the oppressive loneliness, the strange, deep, unearthly gloom of this mouldering city of the dead are things to be felt in all their melancholy and weird- like power, but which could scarce be pictured by the sternest and most vivid word painting. We selected a o^uide from a clamorous crowd of earner applicants, in the person of George Wynder, a wild, pictu- resque, long-bearded fellow, who proved to be very much of a character, and entertained us mightily by many wonderful " lagends " of St. Kevin, the famous Irish giant. Fin Mac- Cool, and the royal O'Tooles. We first embarked with him on the upper lake for the purpose of visiting " St. Kevin'? bed.'* This is a low, narrow cell, hewn in the solid rock, some thirty feet above the water, and only reached by a difficult and some- what perilous piece of climbing. This dreary mountain eyry of the eccentric saint is said to possess peculiar blessedness for the faithful ; to hold certain potent charms for, and to bestow certain inestimable privileges upon, such devout dames as make to it pious pilgrimages, which, from its almost inac- cessible position, can only be accomplished in fear and trem- bling. It may be that the saint displayed, at the last, this especial graciousness towards our sex, in reparation for the slight he put upon it in the most ungallant yet most renowned act of his life. Legends tell that St. Kevin, then a young and handsome man, fashioned this rocky retreat as a hiding-place from a very singular persecution, in the form of loving and pressing attentions from a beautiful young lady by the name of Kathleen . The last name is not known — St. Kevin do 104 HAPS AND MISHAPS OF dining to divulge it, from motives of delicacy, probably ; but she is acknowledged to have belonged to one of the first families. Yet her conduct was scarcely in accordance wath the rules of strict feminine decorum, for she regularly offered herself to his saintsljip ; though, as our guide charitably remarked, " May be 'twas in lape year she did that same, poor cray- thur! " At all events, she made " young Kevin " the tempt- ing proffer of lier hand and heart — the first as a priest he could not. the last as a saint he dared not, accept ; so he took safety m flight, and scooped out that hollow in the steep rock, by the lonely lake, where, according to Moore, in his song, beginnuig, — " By that lake whose gloomy shore Skylark never warbles o'er. — he congratulated himself that he was at last quite out of tho reach of his fair follower and tender tormentor. But Miss Kathleen, who seems to have been an enterprising young woman, with a courage and spirit worthy of a better cause and a better reward, followed him even here ; and one fine morning when he awoke he found her bending over him, weeping, and fixing on his face " eyes of most unholy blue." Moore says, — " Ah, your saints have cruel hearts ; Sternly from his bed he starts, And with rude, repulsive shock. Hurls her from the beetling rock ! " But, according to our guide, " the saint, as he lay there on his back, coolly put his two feet agin Kathleen's breast, and, without as much as a *by your lave, my lady,' kicked her into the lake." On visiting the scene of the tragedy, the latter strikes one as decidedly the most probable version of the story. The saint could hardly have had room to " start " from " his bed " — he must have crawled into his narrow quarters, and Kathleen must have stood at the entrance, from A TOUR (N EUROPE. 105 whence he could scarcely have thrust her into the lake, with- out taking at least a ducking himself, in any but the ver^' ungentlemanlj'^ manner referred to. Our guide told us that an adventurous Scotch earl lately took a fancy to spend the night in this holy bed with his young son. Though wrapped in the ample folds of a soft, warm plaid, his lordship got no sleep — being kept awake, not by the drear solemnity, the awful loneliness, of the surrounding scene, not by the sonorous roaring of the waves below, but by the more sonorous snoring of the laddie by his side. In the rock of " the bed " I found carved the names of Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall, Tom Moore, Maria Edge worth, and Walter Scott. Gerald Griffin, the author of The Collegians, has told the story of Kathleen and St. Kevin in a poem of much power and beauty. It leaves Moore's ballad far behind, and is curious and admirable as giving to the character of Kathleen true maiden purity, and a sweet, childlike innocence, and yet winning your full absolution for that most uncivil sin of her drowning, — the "deep damnation of her kicking o^,^^ — by showing that the cruel act was one of Jiomentary frenzy^ brought on by a long and fearful struggle between human love and priestly vows and saintly aspirations. After visiting the beautiful waterfall of Powlanos, we took a reluctant and lingering leave of that valley of the shadow of ancient jiower — that desolated burial-place of monarchs — that old, old city of a forgotten and recordless past — Glenda- lough. On the morning of the third day of our tour we early left the charming country inn where we had spent the night, and drove over a magnificent mountain road to Lough Bray, and the country seat of Sir Philip Crampton, on its shores, where we were engaged to spend the remainder of the day. I would that I could give even a faint idea of the glorious 106 HAPS AND MISHAPS OF ecenery we beheld along our way on that beautiful mornIni|. Mountain, valley, lakes, rivers, and waterfalls around and beneath us — above us a delicious summer heaven, intensely blue in the zenith, but (larkcned witli drifting clouds about the mountain tops, every now and then melting down upon us in a brief, bright shower, every drop chased by a sunbeam as it fell. But the climax and crowning of the wild scenery on our way, and the keen enjoyment of the morning, was the sight of Lough Bray, a lonely lake, small, but fearfully deep and dark, shut in by high heathery hills, rocky and precipitous — the entire scene, with the exception of the beautiful cottage and grounds of Sir Philip Crampton, retaining its primeval wildness, grandeur, and desolateness. The tasteful owner of this haunt of sounding mountain airs and solemn shadoAVS has rescued, or rather created, from the boggy hillside, the ground for his gardens, lawns, and fir plantations — causing those dreary desert-places to rejoice in leafy luxuriance, and " blos- som as the rose." The loneliness of the lake is relieved by flocks of tame waterfowl, especially petted and protected by Sir Philip, and by a number of those beautiful and stately creatures, the swans. A row upon this dark water was a rare delight to me, from a peculiar, deep, low, melodious surge of its waves — caused, it is said, by its great depth, and the rocky steepness of its shores. To describe all the out-door picturesqueness of this beauti- ful mountain retreat were indeed difficult ; but to do justice in words to its in-door attractions, to the generous warmth of our welcome, to the courteous and varied entertainment, which charmed and winged alike the hours of sunshine and shower, were quite impossible. Irish hospitality is the heartiest and most graceful in the world, and Sir Philip Crampton's is the 60ul of Irish hospitality. We drove into Dublin that night, and on the following day lei out for the Giant's Causeway. The places and objects of A TOUR IN EUROPE. 107 most interest along our route were the ancient towns of Drog- heda and Dundalk — fortunate, flourishing Belfast, with its bright beautiful bay — Carrickfergus and Glenarm, with their fine old castles — and the town of Larne, memorable as the place where Edward Bruce landed, in 1315 — and, above all, Fair Head. Much of the scenery of the coast road from Carrickfergus to the Causeway is grand and beautiful beyond description ; but all fades fast from your memory, for the time, when you reach the crowning beauty of all — the wonder of wonders — the Causeway. I pray my reader's pardon, if here, feeling that discretion is the better part of valor, I in- gloriously shrink from an effort wliich I fear would inevitably result in failure. I shall not attempt to describe the Cause- way. I was most impressed by the caves, and by the various fine points of the Causeway itself, as seen at some little dis- tance from the sea. A nearer inspection increased my won- derment, but did not so powerfully affect me through my sense of the strange and awful. An object of much romantic interest, and of most feanul grandeur of site and surroundings, in this neighborhood, is the ruined Castle of Dunluce, built on an insulated rock a hun- dred feet above the sea, and separated from the main land by a chasm twenty feet broad and nearly a hundred feet deep, which is crossed by a bridge only eighteen inches wide. One should have a steady brain to venture upon this narrow bridge, the passage of wliich is peculiarly perilous if the wind be high. I came very near going over before a strong blast from Bo- reas, who sprang up from the chasm, like an ambushed foe, to dispute the pass with me. The guide told us that a young lady was lately taken off in this way by a sudden gust of wind, but was so buoyed up by an umbrella she held in her hand, and by her long, full skirts, that she reached the ground lightly and safely. A Bloomer costume would have fearfully lei^.sened her chances. 108 HAPS AND MISHAPS OF » We returned to Belfast in time to attend the meetings o1 the British Association. The Lord Lieutenant, a fine-looking elegant man, was present, on the first day, with Lady Eglin- ton, a handsome, stately woman. Lucien Bonaparte, Prince of Canino, attended regularly He is strikingly like Napo- leon, but stouter and darker. I sliould say. I was truly im- pressed by the manner and presence of Dr. Robinson, of Armagh, Archbishop Whately, Rear Admiral Sir John Ross, Sir David Brewster, and Lord Ross, of philosophic and tele- scopic renown. September 23. After three weeks of delightful travel, and three weeks of more delightful visiting, I am about to take leave of Ireland ; and it is with real sorrow at my heart that I go, quite probably forever, from a country where I have received nothing but noble kindness — a country in whose sorrows and successes 1 have now a deepened and loving sympathy — from a people for whose character I must ever feel a glowing and grateful admiration. It were scarcely possible to express the feeling of relief, con- solation, and cheering pleasure which I experienced on visit- mg the north of Ireland, after my tour in the south. The difference is wondrous to behold. I could scarcely believe such utterly different sights and scenes to exist in one and the same country ; but, as if by some potent enchantment I had been transported, in a single night, to another, a fairer and a happier realm, I gazed about me in a sort of pleasant bewilderment The north-east portion of Ireland, in the culti- vation of the country, the prosperous and business-like appear- ance of the towns, and the condition of the working people, to a casual observer, at least, falls but little behind England. The higher degree of prosperity which this section of the country has for many years enjoyed over the west and south play doubtless be ascribed in great part to Scotch emigratioc A TOUR IN EUROPE. 100 and thrift ; but much is also owinoj to its havinji: more resident and efficient landlords, and to certain privileges which tenants have enjoyed under a peculiar custom, which has almost the authority of a law, giving to them an interest in the land they cultivate and improve. This is the famous " te^iant rigltt^'' for the extension and legalization of which noble efforts have been made by Sharman Crawford, and a ^^\n other liberal landholders and true friends of the people. It was a question at the late election, but was defeated, its friends say, by the dishonorable means of intimidation, if not of bribery. The linen trade is the great feature of this portion of Ire- land. At one season you see field on field, blue with the beautiful flowers of the flax ; at another, acres of meadow and hillside white with the bleachinj? web. It is a sight to gladden one's heart, and, in beholding it, you wonder not that you are no longer pained by wayside scenes of squalid wretch- edness, or followed by crowds of ragged mendicants. Belfast is a handsomely-situated and well-built town, with many noble and admirably conducted institutions. The new Queen's College and the Deaf and Dumb Asylum are beautiful buildings ; there are also a Lunatic Asylum and a Model Prison, one of the finest in the kingdom. But perhaps the place of n\ost interest for one whose sympathies are especially with the young and poor is the Industrial School, a most excellent institution, under the National Educational Board, but establislxed and carried on by several noble-hearted and devoted women, and supported by the voluntary subscription of the citizens of Belfast, assisted by the National Board. The school numbers about one hundred children, mostly under twelve years of age, and invariably taken from the poorest of the poor. They come to the institution at half past seven in the morning; take, first, a thorough washing; then are dressed in the uniform school dress, a dark gingham frock and a white pinafore ; they then take a plain, wholesome breakfast, 10 110 HAPS AND MISHAPS OF and, after a half hour's reading of such portions of th(; Bible as are allowed by the National Board, and not objected to by Roman Catholics, are instructed in knitting and sewing, and the common branches of a good English education. These children make and mend their own clothes, and do very creditably a considerable amount of work furnished by friends and patrons. There is also a class engaged in weav- ing Valenciennes lace, of a beautiful quality, under a French teacher. The pupils all dine at the establishment, and take there a certain portion of bread at night. Before leaving, they are required to take off the school costume and to rein- vest themselves in their rags, as, in most cases, it would not be safe to allow them to return to their miserable homes and wretched families in a dress which could be pawned or sold for meal, potatoes, or whiskey. A very thorough and yet attractive system of instruction has been adopted in this school, and is carried out with the utmost faithfulness by its self-sacrificing and earnest-hearted teachers. I know not which interested me most pleasantly — the cheerful energy and enthusiasm of the intelligent and lady- like principal ; or the quiet industry, the aptitude, and the bright, happy, grateful look of her pupils. I must not forget to mention that in this excellent work Catholics and Protes- tants, the benevolent and liberal of all parties and sects, are united, and that the entire cost of its sustainmcnt does not exceed four hundred pounds a year. The country around Belftist is finely cultivated and exceed- ingly picturesque. I have rare pleasure in driving about, with my friends, on an easy outside car, — a vehicle, by the way, to which I have become especially partial, — and visiting places of remarkable beauty or interest. One of our drives was to " The Giant's Ring," an immense druidical amphi- theatre, enclosed by a high, regular mound, with the mystic number of seven openings, and containing a rude cairn, sup A TOUR IN EUROPE. Ill posed to have been used as an altar for human sacrifices by " the priests of the bloody faith." It is also supposed that the mound was once high enough to shut out all views save that of the heaven above. The place is utterly without trees or shrubbery ; yet no deepest valley, dark and cold with forest and mountain shadows, ever wore to me a more, lone- some, desolate, and solemn aspect. I shivered and shrank with a vague sense of mystery and fear as I strove to send my soul back through the Christian ages, into the far, dim, barbaric centuries ; to bid it stand among that vast surging concourse of savage worshippers, and to witness those awful rites, where, for pious chanting, were the groans and cries of the victims ; for baptismal and holy waters, the sprinkle and gush of their blood ; and where, for wreaths of sweet incense, went up the thick smoke of their burning. We made a pleasant excursion one day, lately, to the ruins of Shane's Castle, the ancient palace and stronghold of the princely O'Neills, and to Antrim Castle, the residence of Lord Masserene. Shane's Castle is a ruin surrounded by line old trees and extensive grounds, and grandly situated on Lough Neagh, the largest lake in the United Kingdom. Tradition tells us that this great body of water covers what was once a fair and fruitful valley, with snug cottages and lordly castles, and grand ecclesiastical towers ; that this valley contained a well, which was never to be left uncovered for an hour, under peril of a general inundation ; but that a certain damsel, (there is always a woman at hand, with your historians, sacred and profane, when any mischief is to be done,) being at the well, drawing water, spied her lover at the other end of the valley, dropped her brimming pitcher, forgot to cover the well, and ran to meet him, followed by a foaming flood, which rose and rose, till maiden and lover, cornfield and cottage, turret and tower, all slept beneath the shining wave. But an old cnron- icler states that this piece of carelessness is to be ascribed to 112 'HAPS AND MISHAPS OF the extreme maternal anxiety of a young mother, who " went«j to ye well for to fetche water, and hyed her faste to her childe, who wepte in ye eradele, and left ye well uncovered." I think I like this version best. But that there are in this lake submarine church establishments, and that the fish swim about at their pleasure in castle keep and court yard, and, scaly fel- lows though they are, have the entree of ancient aristocratic halls, we have the word of Moore : — , "On Lough Neagh's bank as the fisherman strays, When clear, cold eve's declining, He sees the round towers of other days In the wave beneath him shining." The princely proprietors of those submerged possessions^ who so suddenly sunk with their sinking fortunes, were after all but a degree more unfortunate than the modern lords of neighboring estates, who find it extremely difiicult to keep their heads above water. Antrim Castle is a fine, rather modern-looking building, with grounds and gardens laid out in the French style, very prettily and effectively. In the meeting and proceedings of the British Association, at this place, great interest was manifested by all classes. This would be nothing remarkable in America, where every man, and almost every woman, feels an enlightened in- terest in all matters and movements of literature, science, morality, and politics ; but here it is a fact significant and inspiring. In my light and hurried sketches of travel and society in Ireland, I have avoided entering upon those vexed and intri- cate questions of government and religion which have caused, and are yet causing, such a wearisome and melancholy amount of discussion and dissension. England is now, it is evident, honestly and earnestly endeavoring to repair some portion of *Le innumerable wronjxs and the immeasurable evil of cen A TOUR IN EUROPE. 113 turies of misgovernment, by a milder and juster rule, by a noble and impartial system of education among the poor, by the lightening of taxation, and by annulling the law of entail, and permitting the sale of encumbered estates. It is a singular fact, that by far the greater number of the lands thus thrown into the market have been purchased by Irishmen. It is to be hoped that large portions of the south and west of Ireland, left for so many years to waste and desolation by titled spendthrifts and ruined absentees, may be redeemed, cultivated, and made profitable by Ireland's worthier indus- trial sons. Yet it must be long, very long, ere green Erin smiles in the face of the stranger with any thing like universal prosperity, plenty, and comfort. The character of her com- mon people has been lowered in times past by ciA^il and religious oppression, by examples of " spiritual wickedness in high places," and of careless improvidence and selfish indul- gence in their superiors by rank and fortune. There are many who say that the regeneration of this country is to be brought about alone by emigration and immigration — the fii'st of the Irish to America and Australia, the last of the Scotch and English into the depopulated and uncultivated territory here; but I am strong in the faith that the best work for Ireland is yet to be wrought by such of her sons as are ♦ruly devoted to her good and her honor, and stay by her in her hour of need. The strifes and dissensions between the Catholics and Protestants, which ran so fearfully high during the late elections, are still carried on with much spirit, creating and keeping alive unchristian alienations and enmities among the people. The English High church, whose grasping after wealth and power, whose manifold corruptions and abuses, smack strongly of '• the world and the flesh," to say nothing of the third person in the unholy trinity, certainly displays in these contests a bitterness of denunciation and a sharpness of 10* 114 II APS AND MISHAPS OF sarcasm more partisan than apostolic; while the Catholi* church has conducted its cause with a high hand, and witL more zeal and determination than modesty or judiciousness. The Catholic party take especial pains to parade, in an exulting half-theatrical and thoroughly offensive manner, the triumphs of their faith, as manifest in the numerous conver- sions from Protestantism. The converts themselves are advertised and feted as you would feie a distinguished vocalist or brilliant performer. As an example, I give you an adver- tisement, cut from their organ, T7ie Freemaii's Journal: — '^ Saint James's New Church. — On Tuesday, the 24th instant, the Feast of St. Bartholomew, his Grace the Most Rev. Dr. Cullen, Lord Archbishop of Dublin, assisted by other prelates, will solemnly dedicate this magnificent church. " The dedication sermon will be preached by the Rev. Henry E. Manning, (late archdeacon in the Protestant church.) " On this occasion, this distinguished convert and gifted orator will deliver his first discourse in Ireland. " The ceremony will conclude with a grand pontifical high mass. " A grand orchestra, under the direction of Mr. J. Keane. "Reserved seats, £1; family tickets, £l 10s.; nave, 10*. ; aisles, 55. "To be had at Richardson's, 9 Chapel Street; Duffy's, 7 Wellington Quay ; Bellew's, 79 Grafton Street ; and from the clergymen of St. James's Chapel." This reminds me of an anecdote related to me by a pleas- ant London friend, a clever bit of satire aimed at the English church. On the Sunday preceding the great musical festival at IManchester, in 1836, the Rev. J. Gadsby, a Baptist minis- ter of great talent and singularity, preached a sermon, of which he had previously given notice, on the subject of the festival. At that time the musical festivals were of a very mixed char- A TOUR IN EUROPE. 115 acter — oratorios in the churches in the morning, with balls and concerts in the theatres in the evening — all being io^ the benefit of public charities. Mr. Gadsby commenced his ser- mon by saying, " My friends, there is to be a grand weading this week ; and as I think it improper and illegal, I intend to protest against it, and I hope that none of my congregation will sanction it with their presence. The church and the playhouse have been courting these many years, and this week they are to be married. The first objection which I make to the union is, ike parties are too near of kin." To-morrow I leave, with some kind Irisli friends, for a short tour in Scotland. I doubt not that my pulses will throb with unwonted fulness, and my heart swell with unutterable emotion, when I tread the beautiful land of Scott and Burns ; but my love I leave with Ireland, the land of warm, quick blood, and of faithful though careless hearts — the land of hospitality and quaint humor, of passion and poetry, of wit and melancholy, of laughter and of tears. CHAPTE R VI. Ate. — Allow AT. — The Bikthplace of Burns. — The Monument. — Mrs. Begg. — Glasgow. — Loch Long. — Loch Goil. — 1n- verart. — Tarbet. — Ascent op Ben Lomond. — Loch Lomond. — Loch Katrine. — Stirling. — Edinburgh. — Holyrood. — Melrose. — Abbotsford. — Dryburgh. — Newcastle upon Tyne. — York. — The Minster. — London. — Hampton Court. Eduvbuxgh, October 1. I LEFT Belfast on the evening of the 23(1 of September, with my friends Mr. and Miss N , for a short tour in Scotland. We landed at Ardrossan, a port of no particular note, and from thence took the railway to Ayr. This last is a tine, iiourishing town, but, aside from the " twa brigs," contain- in"' no objects of peculiar interest as associated with Burns. Here we took a drosky, and drove over to the old parish of Alloway. It was with the true spirit of a pilgrim that I ap- proached the birthplace of that noble poet of Love and Na- ture, whose sweetest songs I had learned from my mother's lips almost with my cradle hymns. As I gazed aroimd on the scenes once dear and familiar to his eyes, my heart, if not all ao^low with its earliest poetic enthusiasm, acknowledged a deep sympathy for, and did honor to, him who, while his soul was lifted into the divine air of poesy, withdrew not his heart from his fellows, — who shared humbly in their humble for- tunes, and felt intensely their simple joys and bitter sorrows, — who, with all his faults, was honest and manly, with all his wants and poverty, proud and free, and nobly independent, — • who, amid all his follies and errors, acknowledged God and reverenced purity. (116) A TOUR IN EUROPE. 117 The cottage in which Burns was born, and which his father bailt, was originally what is here called a " clay bigging," con- sisting only of two small apartments on the ground floor — a kitchen and sitting room. The kitchen has a recess for a bed, and here the poet first opened his bewildered baby eyes on au ungenial world. This room, it is supposed, was the scene of The Cotter's Saturday Night. I was somewhat disappointed to find this cottage standing on the road, and that it had been built on to, and whitewashed out of all character and venera- bleness. It is now occupied as an alehouse, which beseemeth it little as the scene of the beautiful religious poem above named. A few rods from the door stands the " auld haunted kirk," through one of whose windows luckless Tam O'Shanter took his daring observation of Old Nick and the witches, " as they appeared when enjoying themselves." This is a pictu- resque, roofless, rafterless edifice, in a good state of picserva- tion. In the pleasant old churchyard rests the father of the poet, beneath the tombstone erected and inscribed by one whose days should have been " long in the land " according to the promise, for Burns truly honored his father and his mother. From the kirk we went to the monument, which stands ou the summit of the eastern bank of the Doon, and near to the "auld brig" on the "keystone" of which poor Tam O'Shan- ter was delivered from his weird pursuers, and his gray mare " Meggie " met with a loss irreparable. This monument, of which the prints give a very good idea, is of graceful propor- tions and a tasteful style of architecture. The grounds about it, though small in extent, are admirably kept, shaded with fine shrubbery, and made more beautiful by hosts of rare and lovely flowers. There seemed to me something peculiarly and touchingly fitting in thus surrounding an edifice, sacred to the genius of Burns, with the leafy haunts of the birds he loved, in whose songs alone would his tuneful memory live, and with the sweetness and brightness of flowers, from whose glowing 118 HAPS AND MISHAPS OF hearts he would have drawn deep meanings of love and pure breathings of passion, or on whose frail, fragrant leaves he would have read holy Sabbath truths, lessons of modesty and meekness, and teachings of the wondrous wisdom of Him who planted the daisy on the lonely hillside, and the poet in a weary world — the one to delight the eyes, the other to charm and cheer the souls, of his creatures. Within the monument we saw that most touching relic of Burns, the Bible which he gave to " Highland Mary" at their solemn betrothal. It is in two volumes. On the flyleaf of the first, in the handwriting of the poet, is the text, " And ye shall not swear by my name falsely : I am the Lord." In the second, " Thou shalt not forswear thyself, but shalt perform unto the Lord thine oaths." In both volumes is the name of Burns, with his mason's mark, and in one is a lock of Mary's own beautiful, golden hair — a soft, glossy curl, which in that last tender parting may have been smoothed down by the caressing hand, may have waved in the breath, or lain against the breast, of the poet lover. The view from the summit of the monument is one of rare interest, embracing as it does many of the scenes of the life and song of Burns. The scenery of Ayr is not grand, surely, nor strikingly picturesque ; but this view is lovely, quiet, and pleasant beyond description — truly a smiling landscape. Per- haps something was owing to the rich sunshine and soft air of the day, and more to the wondrous charm of association ; but I never remember to have felt a more exquisite sense of beau- ty, a delight more deep and delicious, though shadowed with fad and regretful memories, than while sitting or strolling on tlie lovely banks of the Doon, half cheated by excited fancy with the hope that I might see the rustic poet leaning over the picturesque " auld brig,'' following, with his great, dark, dreamy eyes, the windings of the stream below ; or, witli glowing face upraised, revelling in the clear blue sky and fak floating A TOUll IN EUROPE. 119' clouds above ; or, perchance, walking slowly on the shore, coming down from the pleasant "braes o' Ballochmyle," musing, with folded arms and drooping head, on " the bonnie lass " who had there unconsciously strayed across the path of a poet, and chanced upon immortality. The Doon seemed to roll by with the melodious flow of his song — now with the impetuous sweep of passion ; now with tlie fine sparkle of pleasant wit ; now under the solemn shadows of sorrow ; now out into the clear sunlight of exultant joy ; now with the soft gurgle and silver trickling of love's light measures ; now with the low, deep murmur of devotion. As I lingered there, countless snatches of the poet's songs, and stanza after stanza of long- forgotten poems, sprang to my lips ; rare thoughts, the sweet, fresh flowers of his genius, seemed suddenly to blossom out from all the hidden nooks and still, shaded places of memory, and the fair children of his fancy, who had sung themselves to sleep in my heart long ago, stirred, awoke, and smiled into my face again. Happily for me, my companions fully understood and sym- pathized with my mood — so little was said, that much might be felt. One sung •' Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon ; " and whether it was that his voice, in its soft, pathetic tones, was peculiarly suited to the mournful words and air, or that the scene itself mingled its melodious memory with the sing- ing, I know not ; but never before had I been so affected by the song. On our way back to Ayr, we called to see the sister and nieces of Burns, — Mrs. Begg and her daughters, — who we had been assured were kindly accessible to visitors. This visit was altogether the most interesting and gratifying event of the day. Mrs. Begg lives in a simple little rose-embowered cottage, about a mile from her birthplace, where all who seek her with a respectful interest receive a courteous and cordial 120 HAPS AND MISHAPS OP welcome. * Mrs. Bcgg is now about eighty years of age, but looks scarcely above sixty, and shows more than the remains of remarkable beauty. Her smile could hardly have been sweeter, or her eyes finer, at twenty. Her sight, hearing, and memory seem unimpaired ; her manners are graceful, modest, and ladylike, and she converses with rare intelligence and animation, speaking with a slight, sweet Scottish accent. Her likeness to Naysmith's portrait of her brother is very markei — her eyes are peculiarly like the idea we have of his, both by pictures and description — large, dark, lustrous, and chan- ging. Those eyes shone with new brightness as I told her of our love for the memory of her beloved brother, our sympathy in his sorrows, and our honor for his free and manly spirit — when I told her that the new world, as the old, bowed to the mastery of his genius, and were swayed to smiles or tears by the wondrous witchery of his song. But when I spoke my admiration of the monument, and said, " What a joy it would have been to him, could he have foreseen such noble recog- nitions of his greatness ! " she smiled mournfully, and shook her head, saying, " Ah, madam, in his proudest moments, my poor brother never dreamed of such a thing ; " then added that his death chamber was darkened and his death agony deepened by want and care, and torturing fears for the dear ones he was to leave. I was reminded by her words of the expression of an old Scotch dame in our country, on hearing of the completion of this monument: " Puir Rob; he asked for bread, and now they gie him a stane." Mrs. Begg says that Naysmith's portrait of her brother is the best, but that no picture could have done full justice to the kindling and varying expression of his face. In her daughters, who are pleasant and interesting women, you can trace a strong family resemblance to the poet. The three *ons of Burns are yet living — two are in the army, and one has a situation under government, at Dumfries. All three A TOUK IN EUROPE. 121 are widowers. When I saw her, Mrs. Begg was expectlnji daily the two youngest, the soldiers, who as often as possible visit Ayr, and cherish as tenderly as proudly the memory of their father. It was with deep emotion that I parted from this gentle and large-hearted woman, in whose kindred and likeness to the glorious peasant I almost felt that I had seen him, heard his voice with all its searching sweetness, and had my soul sound- ed by the deep divinings of his eyes. It seems, indeed, a blessed thing, that, after the sorrow which darkened her youth, the beholding the pride of her house sink into the grave in his prime, broken hearted by the neglect of friends, the contempt and cruelty of foes, by care and poverty, and, bitterest of all, by a weary weight of self-reproach, that she has lived to see his children happy and prosperous — his birthplace and his grave counted among the world's pilgrim shrines — to be her- self honored and beloved for his sake, and to sun her chilled age m the noontide of his glory. From Ayr we took the railway to Glasgow, which place we did not reach till after dark. In the mornins: we rose early, took a carriage, and drove to the cathedral, to which we were so fortunate as to gain admittance, even at that un- usual hour. This is a commandingly situated, vast, and gloomy edifice, chiefly remarkable as the only cathedral in Scotland spared by Knox and his compeers at the time of the reformation. It is more massive than beautiful, but has a certain heavy grandeur about it, that, seen as we saw it, in the chill and grayness of the early morning, oppresses one to a painful degree. In the extensive, dark, and melancholy crypts beneath this cathedral is laid the scene of a meeting between Francis Osbaldistone and the Macgregor in Scott's Rob Roy. On a height back of the cathedral is the Glasgow Necrop* 11 122 HAPS AND MISHAPS OF olis, containing some fine monumental sculjjtures, particularly conspicuous among which is a statue of John Knox. Glasgow, for a manufacturing town, makes a very hand- some appearance. Many of tlu; public buildings are of a fine style of architecture ; and the planted squares, those fresh breathing-places off the crowded business streets, are truly beautiful. In Waverley Square stands a noble column, crowned with a statue of Scott. About eight o'clock we took the steamer to go up the Clyde, Loch Long, and Loch Goil. The air was fresh, and somewhat too keen ; but the sunlight was brilliant, and we greatly enjoyed the trip. The first object of particular in- terest which we passed was the grand old rock-seated Castle of Dumbarton, famous from the earliest periods of Scottish history, and most sadly memorable as the scene of the betray- al of Wallace by the " fause Monteith." It was not until we had passed up Loch Long into Loch Goil that the true Highland scenery began to open upon us in its surpassing loveliness and rugged grandeur. The shores of Loch Goil are rough, barren, and precipitous, but now and then we passed green-sheltered nooks and dark glens of in- describable beauty. I grew more and more silent and uncon- scious of my immediate surroundings, for my very soul seemed to have gone from me, to revel abroad in the wide, varied, enchantins: scene. At Loch Goil Head we took outside seats on the stage coach, to drive through (I beg pardon, but I give the name as it was given to me) " Big Hell Glen " to Inve- rary, on Loch Fyne. Our driver on this occasion proved to be a decided charac- ter, having a rich, comic humor of his own, a good memory, a fine voice, and admirable powers of mimicry. He told a story well, and recited poetry like a tragedian. After inform- ing us that Loch Goil Head was the scene of Campbell's fine A TOUR IN EUROPE. 123 ballad of " Lord Ullin's Daughter," he recited the poem v^ry effectively, though when he came to the pa?.sag3, — " One lovely hand was stretched for aid, And one was round her lover," — he took the liberty of making a slight change in the text, his version being, — " One lovely hand was stretched for aid, And ye may a' guess where was th' ither." This glen, of name unholy, is one of the most beautiful passes I ever beheld — a wild, winding, shadowy, magnificent place. Verily, indeed, O Juliet, " what's in a name ? " To me it certainly seemed, on that lovely day, that " Nickie Ben," in annexing this mountain pass, had imprudently laid claim to a choice bit of Heaven's own territory. Inverary is a very small village, but we found there a nice, well-ordered hotel, where we were exceedingly comfortable — a far better inn, surely, than the one at this place, on which Burns perpetrated this witty and wicked epigram : — "Whoe'er he be who sojourns iiere, I pity much his case, ^ Unless he come to wait upon The lord, their god, His Grace." The Duke of Argyle's castle and grounds are now, as then, the chief features of the place after the scenery, which is certainly very beautiful. It is truly a princely residence in site and surroundings, though the castle itstlf is built neither in a style of feudal grandeur nor modern elegance. After dinner we took a stroll through the noble park, and ascended a hill nearly eight hundred feet high — in all, a walk of over five miles. The next morning proved stormy, and we were obliged to post in a close carriage round the head of Loch Fyne, through Glen Croe, past the head of Loch Long to Tarbet, on Loch Lomond. Tlie weather cleared up, so thai 124 HAPS AND MISHAPS OF we were able to have a little stroll by the lake in the evening; and the next morning, which was clear and bright, we walked before breakfast over to Loch Long, where we took a drive along the shore in a peculiar, indescribable vehicle, called a " dog cart." The morning air was a trifle too frosty, and we were on the shady side of the loch, or this drive along a most picturesque road, with some new beauty of scenery present- ing itself at every turn, would have been deliglitful beyond compare. As it was, we soon found ourselves obliged to nurse our rapture to keep it warm, and only by heroic efforts could we restrain the zeroic tendency of our enthusiasm. So per- fectly benumbed did we become, that we were only too happy to resign our state, descend from our " dog cart," and do the last two miles on foot, cheerily inspired by thoughts of the glowing fire and the hot breakfast which awaited us at the pleasant inn at Tarbet. The ascent of Ben Lomond from Rowardennan is not per- ilous or very difficult, but is exceedingly tedious. The distance is about six miles : we rode the whole way on ponies trained to the business — strong, quiet, 'and surefooted animals, for- tunately for us, as, after the heavy rain of the preceding day, the path was in an usually bad condition, with loose stones, slippery rocks, deep mire, and shaky bogs. We started, well wrapped in cloaks, shawls, and furs, fearing the breezes of the air on the mountain summits ; but we soon found ourselves obliged to lay aside one after another of these articles, for as we reached the heights we found the upper day there not only as resplendently bright, but as soft, and still, and summer-like, as the sweet, unseasonable morning we had left in the valley. About half way up, we paused to revel ip a glorious view of Loch Lomond, smiling up to heaven in all its entrancing beauty of silvery waters, verdant clusterirg islands, and moun Jain-shadowed shoi'cs. A TOUR IN EUROPE. 125 I cannot believe that any most sweet and wondrous vision of earthly loveliness or grandeur will have power to banish that fair picture from my memory. But from the summit what a mighty, measureless panorama — what a world of light and shadow — what a glory of nature — what a wonder of God lay beneath and around us ! Words can only give you an idea of the extent, of the vast circumference, of that view. To the east are the hills and valleys of Stirlingshire and the Lothians, Stirling Castle and the windings of the Forth, the Pentland Hills, Arthur's Seat, and Edinburgh Castle. In the south, tlie peak of Tinto, the city of Glasgow, Lanarkshire, Ailsa Craig, the Isle of Man, and the Isles of Bute and Arran — and, gazing down beyond the outlet of Loch Lomond, you see Dumbarton. But on the north I beheld the grandest sight that ever met my gaze — mountains on mountains, stretching away into the distance, and seeming like the mighty waves of a dark sea stayed in their stormy swell, petrified and fixed forever by the word of Omnipotence. Vexed indeed, and tu- multuous, must have been that awful chaotic ocean, ere its vast billows and black hollows were resolved into the ever- lasting- rock — for amon^; these mountain forms there is a wondrous and endless variety. Our guide, a bright young laddie, seemed nowise awed by the imposing presence of the mountains, but pointed out the chief of them, Ben Ledi, Ben Voirlick, Ben More, Ben Lawers, Cairngorum, Ben Cruachan, and Ben- Nevis, as familiarly as he w^ould speak of other and lesser Bens of his acquaintance. Beneath us shone Loch Lomond, Loch Katrine, Loch Ard — the wild country of Rob Roy* — the scene of the enchanting romance and song of Scott. Yet here, for the first- time, all the associations of History and poetry lost their charm — I was above and beyond them. On that sublime and lonely height, on whose still, pure air floated no sound of hump.n life, the thoughts and emotions of my heart were reverential and religious. The stupendous 11* 12G HAPS AND MISHAPS OF mountain peaks, the eternal hills around, seemed altars for Nature's perpetual worship — towering types of the might and majesty of God ; while the lakes with their silver shining, and the green valleys with their still shadows and golden gleams of autumnal sunlight, in all their wondrous beauty, spoke sweetly to the awed spirit of divine love and protecting rare. Even while tremblingly acknowledging God from tliose awful mountain summits, the soul strove in vain to ascend into " the place of the Most High ; " it seemed to grow blind and dizzy, and to flutter like a spent bird down into the abysses of doubt and despair. But from the valleys, the quiet, sheltered, lux- uriant valleys, the happy heart could look up confidingly, and say, '• Abba, Father." On the morning of the day following this memorable ascent, we took the steamer for the head of Loch Lomond, passing Rob Roy's Cave, and beholding much beautiful scenery. Re- turning to Inversnaid, we took a drosky and drove across a rough, wild country, to Loch Katrine. On our way we were shown the ruins of a Highland hut, the birthplace and early home of Helen Mac Gregor. At the head of Loch Katrine we embarked on a funny little steamer, which certainly did not hurry us past scenes on •which our imagination delighted to'linger. The head of this lake is not particularly beautiful, but I found that my most glowing conceptions had not surpassed the exquisite loveliness of that portion which forms the opening scene of The Lady of the Lake, Ellen's Isle, the Mountains Ben An and Ben Venue, and the defile of the Trosacks. Here island, and shoie, and hill are richly clad in magnificent foliage ; and the gran- deur of rocky heights and dark ravines is so pleasantly re- lieved, so softly toned down, that you feel neither wonder nor awe, but drink in beauty as your breath — lose yourself in delicious dreamings, and revel in all the unspeakable rapture of a pure and i)erfect delight. A remembrance which is an A TOUR IN p:urope. 127 especial joy to me now, " and ever shall be," is of a walk taken with my friends that night along the shore of the lake, to the pebbly strand opposite Ellen's Isle, which seemed sleeping in the moonlight, afioat on the still waters, even as its fair vision had floated before my soul on the silver waves of the poet's song. A stage-coach drive to Stirling, the next day, was over the ground of the chase followed by Fitz-James. We passed the once " bannered towers of Doune," now ruined and ivy-grown — a fine, picturesque old castle. Crossing the bridge over the Forth, on entering the ancient town of Stirling, reminded me of a characteristic anecdote I had lately heard of a sturdy Scotch dame, who once, during a stormy season, had occasion to cross the river at a ferry some twenty miles below. Tho ferryman told her that the. waters ran high, and the wind promised a hard blow, but that, as her business was pressii