must cluster around, and become consecrated in others to which no such melancholy reminiscences are attached. Of those whose affection knew no shadow, no coldness but that of the grave, from which their voices still seem to speak to us in love. Of the absentthe unchanged-the friend and companion of our dream-haunted childhood-the guide and counsellor-the lover of our youth! How the heart throbs at the silent resurrection of long buried thoughts! How it revels in the sweet past, conjuring back, as by a soothing spell, old memories and affections; while tears drop fast and silently on the page before us-tears from which time has stolen away all bitterness. Oh, well may the poet designate such records, "a priceless store!"

content to remain. Who would not instantly fling aside the finest poem that was ever written, for one tiny note, traced by some kind and well known hand. The author, let him be ever so gifted and experienced, sends forth his work with fear and trembling, having a name to win or lose. What years of toil and study have been expended in its production, and yet he cannot be quite sure how it will be received. While the letter-the loveful task of a few hours at most, is despatched, in all trustfulness, to its destination. The first may possibly bring fame and new friends; but the sure guerdon of the last, is love and kind remembrances from our old ones! If we must needs choose between the two, who would not prefer the rose before the laurel ?

And now we hasten to conclude; not in weariness of a theme which might, indeed, be spun into volumes, but lest we should weary others. The antiquarian, the philosopher, the connoisseur, may rave about old medals and manuscripts, old paintings and sculpture; but the human heart, in all ages and countries, breathes forth a silent blessing upon old letters!

FLORENCE.

"HAPPY is the bride that the sun shines on," is a proverb generally applied to a blushing and timid lady, clad in virgin white, with a flowing lace veil and orange flowers, when the beams of the god of day brighten her marriage morn: but no lovely girl is now before us, about to sever the ties of home, of kindred, and to bid farewell to the old familiar faces she had known and loved from childhood, to dwell with the elect of her heart. We stand at the source of a river, which, small at first and feeble as the infant, grows stronger and bolder as it approaches maturity, and sweeps along in silver sheets in its prime, now skirting waving woodlands, now bursting through the narrow glen-the spreading tree overhead lending a dark shadow to the water, and anon swelling into a lakelike expanse. We propose, dear reader, to guide you along the banks of another Munster river, to lead you pleasantly through lovely yet lonely scenes; and there are many such, unknown save to those who had been hunters in the days of their youth. There are many unexplored districts in Ireland, full of beauty; many, which only want the aid of trees and roads to render them attractive haunts to every lover of nature.

The source of the Bride is in a wild mountainous district, in the proximity of a range of highlands, called Nagle's Mountains, in the County of Cork. The Irish name of the district, Lurg anoireagha, signifies "the excellent plain," though what was the nature of the good quality does not distinctly appear. It seems a tract of unreclaimed land, where Irish kings might have indulged their martial or sporting propensities, in fighting or hunting; or, in later times, where the rapparee might seek refuge, or the whiteboy have his berth. A wild and picturesque district is this mountains stand steeply over smiling valleys, where cultivation is scanty, but vegetation bountiful. Even where the ploughshare has invaded the simplicity of nature, and the husbandman disturbed the repose of the glens, neither has been able to deprive the VOL. XXVII.-No. 157.

scenery of its original character of a land fresh from the hand of the Great Creator.

Like the land, the inhabitants are a primitive race, partaking much of the nature of their secluded dwellings. Vague and strange traditions come down like shadows from the lofty hills, as unreal and unsubstantial; tales of fairy elves dancing on the heath beneath the moonbeams-of the wailing banshee, foretelling the approaching death of one with an ancient name-of the gigantic phoocha, or the tiny leprehawn, shoemaker to the fairies;themes like these are rife. A beetling mount, on the summit of which is a mossy stone and well, is called Sighen na feighe, "the fairy of the mountain's top;" and the story is told of an enchanted princess doomed to dwell on the height of the mountain, until the lord of the opposite hill could reach his hand across to help her down. How the lady was seen frequently arranging her flowing tresses by the side of the well-the glassy water her only mirror; and how the lord of the opposite hill often tried to stretch his hand across in vain, until a benefactor, in the shape of an old beggar-woman, supplied him with an arm that would have shamed Artaxerxes Longimanus, and he released the enchanted princess from one thraldom, to bring her into another and happier one.

The river wends its way through the lonely mountains towards the hill of Gleannasach; and on the highland on the south bank is Glenville, a small village in the parish of Ardnaghahy. Close to the village is the residence of the Dean of Armagh, who has expended a large sum of money in improving the appearance of this part of the country. The soil in this neighbourhood is not very productive-chiefly rough pasturage, sprinkled with bog. A good system of tillage obtains when the ground admits of agriculture. The church is a neat structure close to the village, and at some distance are the ruins of an ancient church romantically situated.

From the side of the hill, on the

D

summit of which Glenville is built, the sight enjoys a lovely scene. Here is a charming valley of considerable extent, the Bride winding its silvery course along the plain-now bright and shining in the sunlight, anon lost amid clumps of trees or shady bowers. To the left rises the lofty ridge called Glonnasack, clearly defined against the sky, showing dark lateral dells richly clothed in wood. In front is a hill called Toureen, stretching to the base of which is a furzy heath, redolent with the fragrance of wild thyme and blossomed furze. Suffering the eye to follow the course of the Bride, we behold fertile lawns dotted with thriving plantations, until a range of blue misty mountains mingles with the horizon.

The road now leads abruptly down hill to the river, over which a good bridge of three arches conducts. There are a few cottages by the road side; and close to the water's edgeindeed so close that the river washes the foundation-stand a wall and gable, indicating the mouldering remains of a dwelling, once tenanted by Barry Yelverton, Lord Avonmore, and Chief Baron of the Exchequer in 1805. Methinks there is always something touching in looking on ruined buildings, consecrated by recollections of the good and great, who have left memories more enduring than monuments could bestow. Here, in this retired nook, at some period of his lifetime, dwelt a master mind. Nature is never trammelled by classmen of all ranks have been objects of her bounty. No "tenth transmitter of a foolish race" can pretend to secure a monopoly of her favours. She

sows the seeds of genius far and wide; and while the young aristocrat may exhibit only briars and thorns, the peasant youth may receive the heavenly nourishment, and develope talents, spreading a luxuriant growth over his humble origin. Yelverton, as well as his celebrated cotemporary and friend, Curran, were natives of the county of Cork. Curran was born at Newmarket, a small town, situated in a wild and picturesque district. Here Curran, when celebrated and rich, purchased a place called the Priory, from his rank as Prior of the monks of St. Patrick, or the Screw, and used to spend his long

As

vacations after the Cork Assizes. we find Lord Avonmore, with some other members of the Munster circuit, constantly in the habit of visiting Curran at the Priory, it is not at all improbable that Yelverton occupied the house near the Bride during the summer months. That he was a member of the Munster circuit, and went once to Tralee, is well authenticated. His career at the bar was most distinguished. He figured in the foremost ranks of the great men of the epoch of the Irish parliamentary independence; and there were giants in those days. He was the founder of the Order of St. Patrick, numbering from fifty to sixty of the men of Ireland, most remarkable for intellectual powers. All those who

have left on record their estimate of Lord Avonmore's character and abilities, fully corroborate the fidelity of this picture.

Bidding farewell to the venerable wall, we trace the stream in its onward course. The road follows the windings of the river through a pretty glen. On the north is a heath-clad hill, affording scanty herbage to the flocks doomed to seek nutriment on its surface; the south bank is low, and probably flooded in winter, which accounts for the richness of the vegetation ; clumps of trees, in many-tinted foliage, are scattered through fertile lawns. Another neat bridge spans the Bride near Killuntin, and forms a foreground for a landscape. Behind the bridge rises a high conical hill, with a beetling front, rocky and barren. Opposite is a wooded dell, watered by a mountain rill which joins the Bride. In the valley is Mr. Ryan's paper-mill, turned by the streamlet, which joins the river at Kain's-bridge. The demense of Killuntin is well wooded, and the view from the house extensive. A handsome mansion, called Bridestown, lies on the north bank; the offices in the rere of the house remind one of a French chateau, and are striking from their novelty. A small stream now becomes tributary; it is called Clash na breac, "the sporting or the diverting of the trout," and from its name should afford amusement to the lover of the angle. To the north of the river is an old residence, formerly occupied by Mr. Roche, father of E. B. Roche, M.P., Kildinan; and

close to the river are the ruins of Shanacloch Castle, which was one of the defences of the Barrys in that quarter. It was a square tower, and the massive walls bade fair to defy the tooth of time; but the disregard of the neighbouring farmers for relics of antiquity was more injurious than war or wind. Several breaches were effected by the cupidity of men anxious to secure good corner-stones for building, and every year increases the dilapidations. The traditions relate, that on some one of the unfortu nate occasions which have been only too frequent in our history, this eastle was gallantly defended by the Barrys, and their enemies gave up the siege in despair. While on their march from Shanacloch, the English met a man on horseback with a basket full of shoes. He was questioned as to his route, and replied that he was on his way to the Castle of Shanacloch, with brogues for the Barrys. On the promise of a reward, he stated that, as he was to remain all night in the castle, he would let in the enemy in the dead of the night, which he effected, and eighteen of the Barrys were stabbed-they never awoke. The story continues, that on demanding from the victor the stipulated reward, "you shall have it," he said, "and a trifle over; an' when he ped [paid] the money down on the nail, he struck off the villain's head for betraying the noble fellows, whose blood flowed through every room of the castle." From thenceforth Marcach-na-Seancloch, the horseman of Shanacloch, was constantly seen with his head neatly tucked under his arm, haunting the scene of his treachery.

Nearly opposite, on the south bank, is Bushy Park, a well wooded demense. Continuing our progress towards the oast, we reach a fine extent of country, diversified by such scenery as only the realms ruled by our gracious Queen can show. Vast lawns, broken by clumps of ancestral trees, giants of their kind-the streamlet winding its wild way round the mossy knoll on which the rustic cottage is erected. At the end of the spacious alley stands an Elizabethan mansion, with pointed gables and many a chimney; this is Lisnegar, Lord Riversdale's sweet abode. The south bank boasts its share of lawn, and tree, and dwelling.

The

superb seat of Kilshanic stretches its wide woodlands along the river's brink, and crowns the hill with the wellfinished house, said to have been designed by Inigo Jones originally.

Rathcormac, the first town which lies contiguous to the Bride, is a good inland town, in a fertile and populous country. It is not of any great extent, boasting of but one street, and contains 1,574 inhabitants. In the centre of the street is a large house, formerly the barrack of the South Cork militia, of which corps Lord Riversdale is colonel. There is a neat Roman Catholic chapel nearly opposite; and a turn to the east leads to the parish church and graveyard, wherein many of the ancient families of the neighbourhood have their burial places.

Previous to the Union, Rathcormac returned two members to parliament, Curran became one of its representa tives at the general election in the spring of 1790, and continued until his secession in 1797. This town formerly belonged to the branch of the Barrys known as the Mac Adam Barrys, who were located in this district for nearly six hundred years. David de Barry, of Rathcormack, sat in the upper house, in a parliament held 30th of Edward I. anno 1302. To the north of the town is a range of mountain, terminating in a hill of considerable altitude, termed CairnThierna, or the Lord's Heap. This cairn consists of a huge heap of stones, with several raised elevations of stone which have puzzled the curious. Antiquaries are of opinion that this was the place where the tribes in this district elected their chiefs, when tanistry prevailed in the country; others say, the lord or chief was accustomed to preside here in judicial dignity. It then assuredly was a high court of justice. Some are strongly inclined to think these cairns were the funeral monuments of some high family of note, more especially as a few years since, on removing a number of stones from one of these heaps, a large flag-stone was reached, and underneath were two antique urns containing ashes. The men who discovered them broke one in order to ascertain if any money was deposited within. The other is in the possession of the Rev. J. B. Ryder. It is composed of a baked clay, and seems scored with a rude pattern.

This hill is very conspicuous from many parts of the country, which lead persons to consider that these heaps are the remains of speculæ, or places for signal-fires, such as Virgil mentions in the Eneid, xi. 526

"Hanc super in speculis, summoque in vertice montis."

But not alone is surmise confined to the searches into the records of past times. Tradition hangs its legend on the mountain's brow, and the Lord's Heap gains a sad remembrance from the narrative.

LEGEND OF CAIRN-THIERNA.

It was the evening of a brilliant day in the autumn of 1592. The sun had sunk behind the purple range of Nagle's Mountains, and his parting rays yet lingered, sending a stream of light along the course of the Awbeg, that, reflected by the mirror-like waters, shed effulgence through the valley, and gilded the tall keep and battlements of stately CastletownRoche. The air was heavy with the heat of the day; but, at intervals, the sighing of the evening breeze awoke the slumber of the wide old woods stretched to the water's side. It was a sweet and tranquil hour, when the mind, undisturbed by external objects, looks into itself, and, like a glassy lake, unruffled by the wind, gives back the images, with fidelity, by which it is surrounded. In a tastefully-erected Gothic summer-house, within view of the graceful river, since celebrated in Spenser's song, sate Lord Roche and his lady. They listened to the sounds of glee and youthful merriment which rung from one of the turrets; yet, as the laughter came upon their ears, a cloud of anxiety seemed to darken the brow of the nobleman, and he hurriedly brushed away the tear which had fallen on his cheek.

"My dearest lord," said the lady, "wherefore this depression of heart? All nature smiles around us.

Be

I know that some secret woe hangs heavy at your heart. Confide in me, my husband, and if I cannot soften the grief which preys on you, permit me at least to share it."

"Oh, Eleanor, ask not this," re plied her lord; "seek not to unlock a secret which conceals unspeakable woe. I alone am the depositoryyou shall know it too soon-alas! too soon."

Mournfully repeating the last words, the noble would have risen; but gently laying her fairy fingers on his doublet, the lady restrained him.

"Maurice," she exclaimed, with tenderness," since I left my father's halls at Ashby, and sailed the sea with thee, I have ever studied to bear myself towards you as a fond wife should."

The noble pressed her hand to his lips with fondness.

"When 'leagured by the kern, I never blenched; when taken by the gallowglass, I cried boldly till you came to the rescue. At thy bidding, I braided my hair with pearls, and wore my brocade stuffs at the court of the lord deputy, though I fain would content me in this castle of

thine. But why recur to these thoughts? I ask-nay, I demand your confidence, dear husband. The wife should be to man as the ivy round the tree, clinging the closer when the wind blows keenest."

Lord Roche rose to his stately height, and clasped his fair wife to his breast.

"Faithfully and fondly, dearest Eleanor, hast thou ever comported thyself to me," he replied; "and, did evil of mortal kind haunt me, to none would I confide it more readily than to thee, or from none would I gain clearer counsel, or sager advice, to help me through the strait, be it ever so sorely beset. Alas! no kern or gallowglass threatens our fortunes now. Would that it were so! My men-at-arms and gallant knights would soon scatter them like chaff before the wind."

"Nay, then, I must know the secret that robs thy bosom of its rest."

"Well, Eleanor, be it so. I tell thee most unwillingly, for nought earthly can avert the decrees of fate, and to heaven we commit our child."