RAMBLES IN IRELAND.

BY THE REV. THOMAS AVELING, (Continued from P. 175.)

No. II.

My first sabbath in Ireland was spent with mingled emotions of pleasure and pain. As the public service for which I was engaged was not held at the same hour with that of the Roman Catholic chapel, I walked to the latter, with the intention of seeing how worship was conducted there, and what impression appeared to be produced upon the people. When I entered the yard, I observed scores of persons, of both sexes and all ages, sitting in groups or alone upon the graves and stones that were visible in all directions. There was no noise or confusion. Conversation, whatever was its subject, was carried on in subdued tones, as if fearful of disturbing the dead. All were dressed in their holiday garb, and some of them very respectably. Scarcely a bonnet was perceptible; some few of the elder females wore caps, but the majority had no covering for the head, either against sun or rain, except the hood of the cloaks in which most of them were clad.

I entered into conversation with an old man, who seemed affected with solemnity in this place of sepulture. He spoke feelingly of his own departure, which could not be far distant; perhaps he had come there to meditate on the approaching event. I spoke in a similar strain, and was listened to respectfully, although I suppose my companion did not suspect what I was. In the midst of our conversation the chapel bell ceased, and the people rose and entered the building. It was of good size, I suppose capable of holding five or six hundred people, but was speedly filled. The doorway itself was soon choked up, and scores remained kneeling outside, without any apparent concern at not being able to hear the priest; (no great loss, I should conceive, as the service was in a language they did not understand.) The tinkling of a bell within was the signal for kneeling, which those without heard as well as the more fortunate inside, and with which summons to prostration there was immediate and universal compliance

-I alone remaining in an upright posture. This drew many eyes upon me, and some of them sent forth not the most amiable glances. The yard where they knelt, and where they seemed somewhat indignant that I did not join with them, was not the most inviting place in the world for the occasion, and some I saw carefully spreading their handkerchiefs on the ground before they knelt down.

It was to my mind an affecting sight, to witness vast numbers of immortal beings, as I did here, and elsewhere, in Ireland, bending with great outward reverence in the attitude of devotion, appearing to join in prayers which they could not hear, and which, if they had heard, they could not in one instance in a thousand understand; looking up, with a watchful eye, to the gesticulations of priests, some of whom in their hearts, as I was assured by competent authorities, have not the slightest belief in their creed, and whose conduct, in some instances, most painfully belies the reputed sanetity of their office. I several times expressed my utter astonishment that the people should ever consent to receive the ministrations of such; but was met by the reply, that it is the office, and not the conduct of the men, at which the people look. I believe that many of the priests are men of irreproachable manners, indefatigably engaged in their work, and, in their way, seeking, as they suppose, the happiness of the people; but, at the same time, I cannot be otherwise than confounded at the fact, that these men, who from their general intelligence, seem unlikely to be imposed upon themselves, yet inculcate upon people the belief of the most astounding falsehoods; at least, so they most clearly appear to every sober-minded Protestant. Are they "blind leaders of the blind?" Or do they see? The day will declare it.

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In the evening I worshipped in a beautiful chapel up the mountains. In the neighbouring grave-yard was a solitary mound: a mother slept there. The rest of the family, who had originally come from Scotland, returned thither: and there was no one left to plant a flower on her grave. It was indeed lonely on that mountain-side.

The next day I left Tyrone; the road from Charlemont to Portadown presented no features of peculiar interest. It was remarkable only for its terrible roughness. At the last-named place there is a railroad to Belfast, passing through a pleasant and thriving country, skirting, on the left, the south-eastern part of Lough Neagh, whose blue waters lay quiet and shining in the sunlight. This lake is the largest in the British isles, being twenty miles long and twelve broad, but is by far the least interesting; -the mountains, which at most of the other lakes give such an unspeakable grandeur to the scenery, are too far removed from these waters to aid in the effect. Slievegallion, in Tyrone, was becoming hazy in the distance; and the hills, that form such a noble background to Belfast, were also but slightly visible. The railroad passes through or near the towns of Lurgan, Moira, and Lisburn. The latter is one of the most flourishing places in the north of Ireland. The aspect of Lisburn and its environs, to an Englishman, is very cheering; strongly reminding him of his own more advanced country. Here are damask and thread factories, that greatly promote the prosperity of the town. In the church the eloquent Jeremy Taylor lies buried.

I passed on to Belfast, the tall chimneys and steeples of which soon became visible. This town is very beautifully situated at the head of the Lough that bears its name; and at a short distance seems almost overhung by the mountains to the north, which, however, are several miles from it. As I passed through the streets, it very strongly reminded me of London. I could hardly realise the fact of my being in Ireland-there was so few bare feet, and so many splendid shops and equipages. It is a place of great trade and prosperity. Its rapid growth, and the unusual increase in the number of its inhabitants, give indubitable evidence of this. Its religious advantages are many. Some of its most imposing edifices are sacred to religion, and not a few devoted and superior men minister to large congregations. There are three churches belonging to the establishment. The Presbyterians are strong here in leaders and people; they have thirteen chapels, some of them large. The Roman Catholics are weak. Other denominations exist here; but,

with the exception of the Methodists, are not very strong. There is a Royal Academical Institution in Belfast, which has had an important influence for good. Besides the buildings already enumerated, there are others devoted to literary, scientific, benevolent, and commercial purposes. No one, I think, can fail to be interested and pleased with this spirited and enterprising place.

My next temporary sojourn was Carrickfergus. The ride thither from Belfast, on the shores of the Lough, is exceedingly fine. We passed many of the residences of the wealthy merchants, embosomed in groves and woods, at the foot of the hills; some of them enjoying an extensive view of the opposite shore of the county of Down; the land gently rising from the Lough towards the interior; and above the nearest hills, the magnificent range of the Morne mountains towering in proud pre-eminence.

Carrickfergus is a place of great note, with an historic interest attaching to it, running through several centuries. Its castle is in a fine state of preservation. It is built on the solid rock, the base of which is washed by the waters of the sea. It is still garrisoned by soldiers; and with its guns pointing southward and eastward, appears quite ready to dispute the passage of the Lough.

From Carrickfergus I journeyed inland, leaving the high road to the Giant's causeway, which runs through Eden and Larne, where I afterwards again entered it. The object of my journey led me, by a mountainous road, to the secluded village of Strade. The way was a most weary one for the horse that drew the conveyance of myself and an esteemed friend from Strade. We were under the necessity of walking for a mile or two; stopping, at short intervals, to rest our panting beast, and to admire the beautiful scenery that kept unfolding itself more and more extensively, the higher we ascended. Carrickfergus lay at our feet; the castle, with its lofty square keep gleaming in the morning light, which poured upon it from a cloudless sky. We passed some large factories for making flax into yarn, worked by the water that comes from the mountains, in its course towards the sea. When half-way to Strade, we turned off into a corn-field on the left; and following a footpath, apparently but little trodden, came upon a

fine waterfall. I scrambled down the steep sides, that were here nearly two hundred feet in depth, and leaping from rock to rock, stood at the foot of the fall, and looked up at the splendid sheet of glittering spray that rolled from above with a deafening sound, and then rushed onwards with a tremendous force through the glen. The sides of the ravine were covered with grass, moss, and hazel trees, to the very summit. It is an exquisitely beautiful spot, although apparently unknown to tourists in general, very few of whom, I presume, ever travel in that direction.

After returning again to the highroad, we still continued to ascend, until we arrived at some table-land of considerable extent, over which we passed, towards a solitary farm-house, where we left our vehicle, and began again to ascend for half a mile, until at length we reached the top of Cairn mountain, one of the highest points of land in the county of Antrim. It derives its name from a circle of stones on the very summit, supposed to be of Druidical construction. A large massive rock is shown there, as the altar on which, most probably, many a human victim bled. About a mile from this, down the side of the mountain, is another cairn, called Lis Glass, of smaller dimensions.

My principal object, however, in ascending the mountain, was to enjoy the magnificent prospect which in fine weather is visible thence. In this latter particular I and my companion were highly favoured. It was one of nature's most glorious days, balmy and beautiful. The morning mists had all floated away, and every object around was bathed in soft, unclouded sunlight. A light wind gently bent the purple heather that lined the mountain's sides, and breathed softly around us; save its low music, not a sound broke the solemn stillness of the place, that was well calculated, by the memorials of the ancient dead around, and the gorgeous panorama of which it afforded us a view, to kindle the most affecting and unutterable emotions. To the south-west, beyond dark woods and deep glens, was Belfast, ten miles distant, with its superincumbent mass of smoke dimming the outline of the buildings; to the left of the town the Down coast, with the back ground filled up by the huge chain of the Morne mountains,

-the first objects of interest that arrested my eye in the earliest glimpse I gained of Ireland. At my feet was the Belfast Lough, along which steamers and other vessels of all sizes were passing; eastward were the Copeland isles, with a beautiful lighthouse gleaming in the sun, and beyond them, dim with distance, the high lands of the Isle of Man. Northward of this ran the coast of Scotland, until it was lost by the intervening hills that overlook Island Magee. Again the Ayrshire coast appeared, between an opening in the mountains; and as the eye swept round the horizon, the lofty headlands that gird the north-eastern coasts of Ireland successively presented themselves. The North Antrim and Derry mountains were next visible, and apparently at the foot of the latter, though in reality many miles distant, was Lough Neagh, now white as silver; and to the south of that the mountains that overhang Belfast, which completed the circle of my vision. The tout-ensemble was grand and beautiful. I had never, since I stood on the top of Snowdon, gazed upon a prospect so extensive, and combining such a charming variety of scenery; so that I felt unwilling to tear myself away.

On descending the mountain to the farm-house, where we had left our chaise, we were warmly invited to enter. Though I have designated it thus, let no English reader imagine to himself anything approaching to the so-called neatly-thatched, substantial buildings that abound in this country, and that in their internal arrangements and comfort, can generally vie with the conveniences of houses in town, and sometimes surpass them. This was a genuine Irish cabin, with blackened rafters, hard clay floor, and open chimney, up which the peat smoke ascended in volumes; dispensing at times, however, a few of its favours, more readily than welcome, in the direction of the door. Yet here was the ready, hearty welcome by the inmates, to their dish, which consisted of potatoes and salt herrings. The mountain air, and three hours' walking and climbing had given me a keen appetite; and I do not remember ever enjoying a meal with more zest than I did the potatoes and butter-milk which were set before me; made doubly sweet by the glad looks of the mother of the family who sat round the table, and