ANOTHER RAMBLE IN IRELAND.

EARLY one morning my companion and I directed our steps to Mucross Abbey. The road thither passes by Lord Kenmare's house, and, crossing the river Flesk, whose waters rush along their rocky channel into the Lower Lake, skirts Castle Lough Bay, until the village of Cloghreen is reached. Here, on the right of the road, a gate leads into Mr. Herbert's demesne, in which the abbey stands. The path to it is along an undulating ground, carpeted with the richest velvet grass. Every object that meets the eye denotes the care which is taken by the proprietor of the domain to make the place beautiful, and in keeping with the exquisite scenery of the neighbourhood. The abbey itself is a very venerable ruin. It is embosomed in the midst of trees, whose long gnarled roots cross the pathway that leads to the building, while their luxuriant branches afford a pleasant shade from the heat of a summer's day. We rang a bell at the entrance, and were at once admitted into the building; which, upon examination, appeared to us less dilapidated than we had imagined. Some parts were in an excellent state of preservation; this is in some degree attributable to the attention which the owner of the property gives to it. We went first into the church, the eastern window of which, in its stone framework, is nearly entire, and, like most other parts of the building, it is covered with ivy. A great many tombs lie scattered about, some of them very ancient. This seems to be a favourite burial-place with many-as indeed all ruined abbeys and churches are in Ireland-for the The regraves were very numerous. mains of the convent, with its chambers, cells, and kitchen, are sufficient to give a very correct idea of the place. The guide showed a recess in the wall, that appears to have been a fire-place, in which a stranger slept for years-a hard and cold bed for any one. Who he was, and why he selected such an uncomfortable dormitory, no one ever knew. This occurrence happened many years ago. There is a very fine yew-tree, growing near the cloisters, whose branches spread from wall to wall, and completely overshadow the vacant space. We were greatly pleased with our ramble amidst these ruins, which will well repay the attention of the tourist.

Leaving the abbey, we retraced our

steps to the high-road, and passing Roche's hotel, where a number of guides were waiting the egress of the inmates, to obtain employment, we, after declining their proffered company, went on to the Torc mountain. Our intention originally was to walk to the Eagle rock, to hear once more the marvellous sounds that are there awakened, the remembrance of which had clung to the soul even in the dreams of sleep, and kindled an intense longing again to thrill under the sweet musical enchantment. But our purpose was frustrated for want of time. Near the Torc cascade, we were besieged with entreaties to purchase goat's milk and whiskey, by some of the peasants, who obtain a precarious livelihood by attending at the several places of especial interest, to waylay the visitors with their importunate appeals. We got into conversation with them upon topics of solemn importance. It was truly affecting to observe the calm indifference, as well as utter ignorance, that was displayed upon the fundamental truths of religion. Every thing was left to the priest; his performance of mass, his absolution after confession, were regarded in the light of a complete removal of the consequences of sin. Beyond this, all sense of personal responsibility seemed to cease. In answer to my remonstrance with them on this subject, quoting the words of the apostle, "So then every one of us shall give a、count of himself to God," and the passage, "Who can forgive sins but God?" one of them, a peasant girl, said, “ Why, your honour, what are we poor creatures to do? we must believe as the priest tells us. Sure he is sent by God."

"But," said I, "we are commanded to search the Scriptures for ourselves, and to prove all things-taking the word of no man. We have no right to conclude because a man is a priest, that he is sent by God; there may be, and there doubtless are, good and bad priests. We are commanded to try the spirits, whether they be of God, because,' as in the apostle John's days, many false prophets are gone out into the world.' Christ said,

6

By their fruits ye shall know them.'

"I know nothing about it, Sir," replied the girl; "I dare say you are right, but I cannot read; and if I could, it would not be of much service to me, as I never had a Bible."

"But why not, during the long winter evenings, get some one to teach you to read," I asked, "and obtain a Bible,

K

that you may ascertain for yourself what God has said? Ask the priest to instruct you, and if he will not, look round for some one who will."

"He!" exclaimed the girl, with a smile of mingled derision and amazement, "he would be much more likely to box my ears. He cares for nothing much,

except money."

"Strike you!" I rejoined, with a look of surprise, and a tone that indicated incredulity.

"Yes, sir," said the girl, undaunted, "and I am not the only one; men as well as women feel his hand."

"And do they submit to it? do they not return the insult? An Irishman is the last man I know who is likely quietly to receive a blow."

"Strike a priest! sir," said she, with a look of horror; "why, who dares?"

And such is the superstitious reverence attaching to the office of the priesthood, that even while there is a profound contempt for the man, his word is obeyed; his anathema, and even his frown, is dreaded as a terrible calamity; and his person invested with a kind of sacredness. This feeling is confined to no one particular district, but I believe exists throughout most parts of the country.

We found our auditors much more inclined to recommend their wares than to prolong this conversation, and so we left them. We walked in the direction of Kenmare as far as the tunnel, where the road is cut through the solid rock, and after feasting our eyes with the view of the lakes which is obtained here, retraced our steps to the cottage at the foot of Torc mountain, where we obtained admission to the private grounds in which the waterfall is situated. The footpath winds by the side of the stream, which, after the great fall, proceeds pretty leisurely on its way. Near the cottage, and for some distance up the glen, it is almost hidden by the overhanging foliage, that, wet with dew, was now glistening in the rays of the sun, which was looking down from the summit of the mountain, as if rejoicing to obtain a glance at that scene of verdure and beauty. Presently, after passing through an alley of evergreens and shrubs and young trees, we came out upon the brink of a precipice, where we had a fine view of the splendid cataract, which comes leaping and thundering down from a ledge of rocks in two or three columns of water, that unite in a basin at their foot; and then, after a suc

cession of minor falls, glides onward, much more quietly, as if exhausted with the efforts it had made in descending the chasm, and in finding its way amid opposing rocks that confronted it in all directions. We descended from our position by a somewhat precipitous path, and crossing the torrent by the help of the overhanging branches, passed along the rocks on the side of the glen, until we reached a spot close to the principal fall. It was very grand just here, the light softly gleaming on the crest of the water above, while all below was gloomy in the deep shadow of the gigantic rocks. After satisfying our curiosity, and getting pretty well saturated with the spray for our pains, we returned, and ascending the winding path, obtained another view from a much higher elevation. The proprietor of these grounds has most kindly ministered to the enjoyment of visitors, by cutting openings in the foliage at different spots in the zigzag walk that leads to the top of the fall, thus giving the opportunity of beholding it under different aspects. Seats are provided on some of the landing places, generally on the brink of the precipice. From one of these we obtained a most magnificent view of the lakes, blue now as the cloudless sky above them, with their sweet islands and verdant mountain barriers. Ever welcome, ever fresh, was that enchanting vision!

We at length emerged from the glen by a gate not far from the head of the fall, near which a slight bridge crosses the descending stream, just before it takes its bold leap into the depths below. We found ourselves now on the old Kenmare road, covered with grass; its rival, one far more commodious, and far more beautiful, having entirely superseded it. Crossing this, we directed our steps to a farmhouse, on the side of Mangerton mountain, intending to inquire our way to the top. Pressing on through a young wood of fir-trees, we at length got into the right track, but, unfortunately for us, time had outstripped us, and we were obliged reluctantly to descend, after having climbed about half-way, without paying a visit to Lough Kittane, or the Devil's Punchbowl. We were greatly disappointed in not being able to obtain the splendid view from the summit, but we were expecting a friend by the Cork coach, and feared lest our absence when he arrived should disconcert his plans. Returning by a different road from that by which we had come, and after a

turbed district. The large and castellated structure which has been erected at Nenagh as a prison, seems to announce to the traveller by its strength and size that he is in a neighbourhood where there is a stern necessity to stretch out the iron hand of the law. A gentleman who resides near the town of Roscrea, and is the owner of landed property in Tipperary, gave to me and my fellow-travellers on the coach some curious illustrations of the state of society in this county. He asserted that at Nenagh there met, at stated periods, a secret conclave of men from the surrounding country, who formed themselves into a kind of court for the trial of the character of every landlord. They appoint one of their number to preside as a judge; two are selected as counsel for and against the arraigned party, and others constitute a jury. Witnesses are examined according to the custom of courts of law; and, after a regular hearing, a verdict is given, and judgment pronounced. If he be a landlord against whom there can be alleged no evictions of tenantry, or seizure of property for non-payment of rents, etc., then his name is not noted down; if, on the contrary, he be one who has offended these self-constituted authorities, a letter is sent to him, warning him to beware, lest his malpractices (such they are in their estimation) should bring upon him some serious evil. If this be disregarded, a second letter is sent, still more significantly hinting at probable consequences; and if this be disregarded, a third, with a rough sketch of a coffin, or death's-head, intimates that he may expect the assassin's bullet, as he is a marked man. One of the number of his judges or jury, or some other more blind and reckless villain, easily persuaded, and indeed sworn, to obey the commands of this secret junta, is chosen by lot to execute the deed of blood; and it not unfrequently happens, as the reports of trials for murder will show, that the victim is utterly unknown to his intended murderer. Gentlemen who have been so warned are obliged to go about armed, or to have some of the rural police stationed in or near their dwellings. I give these statements verbatim, as they were told me by my fellowtraveller, whose demeanour and language bespoke the utmost truthfulness. Human life among the Tipperary men appears to be held very cheap; and terrible as is the crime, and appalling the conse

quences to himself, if discovered, the assassin goes about his dreadful work with a cool indifference, and will wait patiently for days and weeks, until a suitable opportunity for accomplishing his object presents itself; and as coolly will the murderer go to his death. A short time before my visit to these parts, a man had been seized by the police, after a desperate resistance, in which he had wounded two of his pursuers; and when visited by his father in prison, was asked by the old man, "Did you fight like a man?" "I did," was the reply. "Then die like a man,' was the only injunction the parent deemed requisite under circumstances so affecting and terrible.

It has already been stated, (page 167, for 1846,) that almost all the outrages of an extensive character, arise out of the tenure of land. Protestants and Catholics are alike visited by these self-elected avengers; so that to religious differences alone they cannot be ascribed. We passed a fine piece of land, near Moneygall, without gate, or hedge, lying between other cultivated fields, from which some former tenant had been ejected, and no one had dared to hire it of the landlord, from a dread of the expected consequences. All this is sad in the recital, and affecting and awful in the reality; for the result of this state of things is most mischievous. Tipperary is one of the finest counties in Ireland for fertility, and its peasantry are as noble-looking a race of men as I ever saw, with energies and abilities sufficient to compass any object; and yet here insubordination abounds to a fearful extent, and property and human life, especially the latter, from the causes named, are placed in perilous jeopardy. Who will not breathe the prayer, that wisdom may be given to our senators; and a deep sense of the folly and wickedness of their doings to the misjudging people, who are inflicting a curse upon their own land, which must immediately or ultimately affect themselves?

The

This county is rich in objects of interest to the antiquarian, and the explorer of nature's wonders and beauties. Among the latter, the caves of Mitchell's-town are most deservedly in repute. celebrated Rock of Cashel, crowned with its noble ruins of a cathedral, castle, abbey, Cormac's chapel, and a round tower, has often been described and delineated by the painter and the engraver. It is the lion of the county. The beautiful ruin of the Abbey of Holy Cross, on

My arrangements rendered it necessary to stay a night on the road, so that I was compelled to travel by the packet-boat that plies on the canal between Mountmellick and Dublin, a mode of conveyance which my experience led me to resolve never to attempt again. The boats are so slimly built, and the rate at which they go is so rapid, that a collision with other boats or any portion of the banks is likely to be attended with great danger. A few months after my visit to Ireland, a catastrophe occurred, of the very kind that I more than once apprehended would befal us, by which a large number of persons lost their lives. We, like these unfortunate persons, were fastened in the cabin, and had the boat capsized, escape from death would have been impossible. But the good hand of our God was over us. The canal skirts for several miles the bog of Allen, which stretches right across the country. This immense tract of land is by degrees being brought under cultivation, and the time, perhaps, is not far distant when, through the wise expenditure of means and money, many of Ireland's waste places may be made most productive. May it be so to the fullest extent in the darker and more dreary moral wastes that present themselves to the eye of the Christian traveller, chilling the heart, and awakening the deepest sorrow at the ruin which sin has wrought! Oh, let every one who reads these pages pour forth a prayer for benighted Ireland, crushed beneath the intolerable weight of ignorance and superstition, and bleeding at every pore; her children's energies dissipated, misemployed; and myriads annually perishing, with the upbraiding exclamation on their dying lips, uttered with their parting breath, "No man careth for our souls." That terrible wail is becoming more distinct; British hearts are thrilling at the solemn sound; and even now, amid the

THE REFORMERS BEFORE THE

REFORMATION. No. XIII.

WHILE things were in this state at Prague, the voice of reason could scarcely be heard there. The archbishop proceeded from threats to acts; he put an interdict on the whole city, and on every place in which Huss might remain.

This severe measure was but feebly put in force, and the preaching in the celebrated chapel of Bethlehem was not interrupted. Yet Huss judged it prudent once more, and for some time, to withdraw from the fury of his enemies. He retired to his birthplace, the village of Hussinetz, where he had a devoted friend in the nobleman to whom it belonged; but there, as at Prague, he showed himself always intrepid, and unwearied in what he considered the cause of truth.

At this period he wrote several remarkable treatises. The most renowned of these was that concerning "the Church," which will be mentioned hereafter, and from whence were drawn most of the articles for which he was condemned. About the same time he also published a very brief but powerful treatise, called "Six Errors." The first error was that of the priests, who boasted that they made the body of Christ in the mass, and were the creators of their Creator! The second was upon the words, "I believe in the popes and the saints." John Huss maintained that we should believe in God only. The third was on the priestly assumption of power, to give to whom they pleased remission from the guilt and penalty of sin. Obedience to superiors, without discrimination as to their commands, was the fourth error. The fifth, was the not distinguishing in the effect between a just sentence of excommunication and one that was undeserved. Lastly, the sixth was simony, which Huss designated as a heresy, and he charged the greater part of the clergy with being guilty of it.