UCSB UBRftEY
 
 AS WE SAW IT 
 
 IN 
 
 '90 
 
 GRACE CAREW SHELDON 
 
 BUFFALO 
 
 PUBLISHED BY THE WOMAN'S EXCHANGE 
 298 MAIN STREET 
 
 MDCCCXC
 
 COPYRIGHT uv 
 GRACE CAREW SHELDON.
 
 
 FRIEND, 
 
 F. A. GRAND ALL.
 
 " Go, little book ; God give thee good passage." 
 
 CHA UCRR.
 
 NOT A BENE. 
 
 WHEN a child, I used to think prefaces were 
 invented for the especial convenience of children, 
 who loved to say on the heading, "Peter Rice 
 eats frogs and catches eagles," and backwards 
 ad libitum ; hence this N. B. 
 
 'Tis only to say, however, that these letters 
 were originally written for the Courier, during 
 the summer of 1890, while "on the wing." 
 This meant writing late into the night to catch 
 a steamer, in the barest of rooms, by tallow-dips 
 or bougies, on trains, in stations in fact, when- 
 ever and wherever a quiet spot was obtained. 
 
 They, therefore, make no pretense, but would 
 gladly be of assistance to future travelers, who 
 may be fortunate enough to tread the same 
 paths they tell of. 
 
 I desire to thank, in this public manner, every 
 man, woman or child, no matter how humble, 
 who in any way contributed to our comfort or 
 enjoyment while abroad ; trusting any word of 
 praise I may have said, will bring its own 
 reward. Also, to thank home-keeping friends 
 for prayers and good wishes, which followed us 
 everywhere. G. C. S. 
 
 THE EVERGREENS, 1094 Main Street, 
 BUFFALO, N. Y., Dec. 12, 1890.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 LETTER I. PAGE. 
 
 ON SHIPBOARD, i 
 
 LETTER II. 
 IRISH SCENES, 14 
 
 LETTER III. 
 KILLARNEY'S LAKES, 31 
 
 LETTER IV. 
 SIGHTS IN IRELAND, 48 
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 NEW TlPPERARY, 69 
 
 LETTER VI. 
 THE CAUSEWAY, 88 
 
 LETTER VII. 
 BURNS AND SCOTT, 107 
 
 LETTER VIII. 
 THE SCOTTISH LAKES, 128 
 
 LETTER IX. 
 IN THE GRAMPIANS, 146 
 
 LETTER X. 
 ON THE CONTINENT, 163 
 
 LETTER XI. 
 DELIGHTS OF PARIS 180 
 
 ADDENDA. 
 OBERAMMERGAU THE PASSION PLAY, ... . . 198, 219
 
 LETTER I. 
 ON SHIPBOARD. 
 
 Some of the Queer Fellow-Passengers A Troupe of Stage 
 People Arrival at Qiieenstown Warm Welcome from an 
 Old Woman. 
 
 STEAMSHIP CITY OF CHICAGO, June 18, 1890. 
 THIS is our seventh day at sea. We know the 
 Majestic, which sailed the same hour as we did, is 
 no doubt two days ahead of us, yet those of our 
 party who are good sailors lie back in our steamer 
 chairs and contentedly wish for nothing better than 
 to go on for seven days more. The voyage thus 
 far has been an unusual one, as we have encount- 
 ered very little fog. and absolutely no stormy 
 weather. The sea is far from calm, however, as 
 we are getting the tail of a storm, which for 
 thirty-six hours, aided by a strong southwest 
 wind, has kept our ship actively engaged in bath- 
 ing first her right and then her left side in the 
 sea. Fortunately she is broadly built and takes 
 no " wicked water," to speak nautically. This 
 gives her a dactylic style of motion, one long and
 
 2 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 two short rolls, which is much more restful than 
 the monotonous motion usual to narrower and 
 faster steamships. To those desiring a steady ship 
 I would heartily recommend the Chicago. I am 
 told by authority that during the severest winter 
 passages she seldom ships water, and that the 
 percentage of food consumed is greater, and the 
 breakage of crockery less, on her than on any 
 steamer of her size afloat. 
 
 During this trip the tables have been filled even 
 when she was pivoting about the worst, and while 
 she certainly rolls she does it in a style of her own 
 that is not conducive to sea-sickness or loss of 
 appetite. 
 
 Her officers are all courteous, and have done 
 a great deal for the comfort of our party. The 
 head steward, Allan McLeod, or " McLeod of 
 Dare," as we have christened him, being an old 
 friend, gratifies our every wish, and as a kindly 
 head steward can do much more for a passenger 
 than even the ship's captain, since he carries the 
 keys, we are certainly fortunate. The chief engi- 
 neer is the senior engineer of the Inman line, and 
 Mr. Kavanagh, the purser, also enjoys seniority ; 
 but he prefers the Chicago to either the New York 
 or Paris, and so say we all of us. 
 
 As to the passengers, they have furnished us a 
 fund of amusement. By degrees we have become
 
 ON SHIPBOARD. 3 
 
 acquainted with most of them and have selected 
 as friends a dozen, whom we hope to know better 
 in the future. The survival of the fittest obtains 
 here as on land, and there does not exist a more 
 favorable place in the world for developing mean 
 and hidden personal traits than the raging main. 
 
 To begin with, there is Signor Sing-a-Ninny. For 
 the first few days he appears on deck only towards 
 evening, and as he speaks to no one and is " dark 
 complected," we conjecture he is only able to use 
 his native Italian tongue. By an unconscious pro- 
 cess we discover later that he is not only an 
 Irishman, but was born in New York. 
 
 We shall ever remember him in three attitudes. 
 First, as he came above, attired in an exceedingly 
 shabby steamer cap, faded ulster, and antique and 
 spotted trousers. As he emerged upon deck he 
 would take two cotton wads from either coat- 
 pocket and deposit them in his ears, and since he 
 always kept his mouth closed, we concluded this 
 was to prevent any of his expensive tenor voice 
 from escaping. After a brief and evidently painful 
 stroll on deck he would assume the second attitude. 
 Donning a pair of woolen gloves, the sight of which 
 put one's teeth on edge, he would wrap himself in 
 two Italian silk rugs, and recline his head against 
 a " greenery yellery " silk-covered pine pillow, 
 embroidered with something about "soft breezes"
 
 4 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 and "pine spills." Thirdly, we remember him at 
 supper, the usually jolly fourth and last meal of 
 the day, with his Chinese style of moustache 
 drooping about his mouth, as he consumed beer 
 and ate Welsh rarebit, while leaning his pom- 
 aded head upon a begemmed hand. 
 
 When our charity concert came off he refused 
 to sing. We all knew he would, but the next 
 afternoon he was prevailed upon to raise his 
 voice by an Englishwoman we have named Miss 
 Flitter, who has been actively engaged, much to 
 our amusement, in flitting after him during the 
 trip. He certainly is made of heroic stuff, and 
 proved it by insulting one of the passengers, an 
 editor of the New York Herald, who he dared 
 to accuse of taking a soiled red-silk handker- 
 chief, saying if it could not be found he would 
 hold him responsible for it at Liverpool. When, 
 two minutes afterwards, it was found, he neglected 
 to return and apologize. The editor, in deference 
 to his wife, did not mop the deck with him, but, 
 no doubt, a day of reckoning will come when 
 Perugini least expects it. There ! I did not intend 
 to tell his name, but as it has escaped me I'll let 
 it stay said, although our nickname we felt was 
 perfect. 
 
 T. Hurley, Esq., was another character. If you 
 have never met him, you should hope to do so ;
 
 ON SHIPBOARD. 5 
 
 and if you have, you know exactly what a loyal 
 American he is, and how cleverly and logically he 
 defends his country from the word attacks made 
 upon it by John Bull, and his son or daughter. 
 These have perhaps seen only New York, and con- 
 sequently feel they know all there is worth know- 
 ing about the United States. He travels always 
 with a full-fledged American flag, once taken by 
 Rebels and then left behind in their flight. It is 
 scarred and tattered, but has probably made as 
 many, if not more, journeys than any other flag 
 of its age. " I carry a paper upon me saying, if I 
 die suddenly, wrap me in this flag, and slide me 
 into the sea or earth, wherever I am," said Mr. 
 Hurley one day. Eccentric but loyal Mr. Hurley, 
 we honor you ! 
 
 From the South we had cotton-growers and horse- 
 dealers going out for Percherons. One of their 
 number was a man who got to be as great a curi- 
 osity as the " Man in the Iron Mask." He never 
 appeared at table, on deck, or at a card party, 
 given by his set, without his hands in a soiled pair 
 of dark-red kid gloves. Both hands were his own, 
 as we could tell from the way in which he used 
 them, and even the men were anxious to know 
 the reason for this strange freak, but we never had 
 our curiosity satisfied. 
 
 A Dr. G and his daughter entertained us
 
 6 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 immensely. He has a college for missionaries at 
 Bow, by Whitechapel in London, and has been for 
 a trip to Australia. He brushes his hair all off 
 his face in imitation of Henry Ward Beecher and 
 has the most sactimonious countenance I ever 
 beheld. He certainly did not speak to a dozen 
 people on board, but when he and his daughter 
 took their walks abroad they were heard to rave 
 over Ruskin or Beethoven (she being very mus- 
 ical), or he repeated some of the profound poems 
 or sermons he had been inspired to write that day. 
 I am quite sure they hardly realized they trod the 
 vulgar deck of a steamer, so above the common 
 herd were they as they chewed their intellectual 
 cuds in unison. 
 
 No doubt the doctor is a profound student, 
 and they say his book, " The Approaching End 
 of the Age," is worth reading, but I cannot 
 appreciate people who look ready to be trans- 
 lated at any moment. They are too uncanny 
 for this age of a-go-as-you-please scramble for 
 bread and butter. The daughter did not know 
 where cotton came from I did want to tell her on 
 cotton sheep and she said, "It must be awfully- 
 jolly to be beautiful." 
 
 She approached one of the loveliest young 
 women on board one day and said : " Do you 
 belong to God ? "
 
 ON SHIPBOARD. 7 
 
 " Yes, ma'm, I hope so," she answered meekly. 
 
 After this we used to say, "Do you belong to 
 God or the troupe ? " for among us were a num- 
 ber of specialists, returning from a fourteen-weeks' 
 trip under Tony Pastor's management. It was 
 known they were on board when we sailed, and 
 each group suspected every other group of being 
 the troupe. At last it was possible to identify them, 
 and we found them very amusing. The men of 
 the party were five in number, two wonderful 
 gymnasts and three who did " the leg business," 
 as they called it high kickers, in other words. 
 
 Then there was Miss Rose S , the greatest 
 
 Irish ballad singer, and Mile. V , a contor- 
 tionist. The latter invited us to her state-room 
 one morning to see her exercise. This she is com- 
 pelled to do every day, for fear her muscles will 
 stiffen. I really never saw anything more extra- 
 ordinary. She twisted herself into every attitude 
 imaginable, with the greatest ease, and said she 
 "would just as soon stand on 'er 'ed or 'er 'ands 
 
 as 'er feet." She, with Miss S , make the 
 
 round of three theaters nightly in London, or, as 
 she explained it in her own words : " We goes to 
 the first theeater, gets hinto hour tights, goes on 
 the stage, does hour hact, goes hoff, hundresses, 
 jumps into a .'ansom, goes to the second theeater, 
 gets hinto hour tights, goes on to the stage, does
 
 8 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 hour hact, goes hoff, hundresses, jumps into a 
 'ansom, goes to the third theeater, gets hinto hour 
 tights, does hour hact, goes hout, gets into hour 
 
 'ansom and then 'ome." Mile. V gave me her 
 
 photograph, and we all promised we would go to 
 see her do " 'er hact " in London. 
 
 The Delevine brothers, who were with her, per- 
 form only seven minutes, and one of them, who 
 seemed a gentleman, told me that finding he 
 could earn as much every evening in seven min- 
 utes as he could by hard work in seven days, 
 much against his parents' wishes, had gone on the 
 stage. He played the mandolin and sang pleasing 
 melodies, and altogether they entertained us and 
 varied the usual monotony of an ocean trip. 
 
 We had, of course, the Rev. Mr. Psalm-Creed. 
 He belonged to " the church " and regularly 
 talked you sleepy. He was the essence of polite- 
 ness, had traveled everywhere, and knew every- 
 body, or some one related to them ; but his con- 
 versations were as long as the litany on a hot 
 Sunday, politeness barring your right to exclaim, 
 except mentally, " Good Lord, deliver us ! " It 
 took practice to take a nap and wake up in time 
 to say yea or nay in the correct place, and he 
 filled one's ideal of the type of mankind de- 
 scribed in " Patience," viz. : 
 
 " What a most particularly pure young man, 
 This pure young man must be."
 
 ON SHIPBOARD. 9 
 
 Of course we had the aristocratic lady from 
 Baltimore and her daughter, who neglected to be 
 polite, and the lady and simpering daughter from 
 Brooklyn, who had a most unhappy trip. Sitting 
 beside her the first day out, a gentleman acci- 
 dentally saw she had written in her diary : " We 
 do not think there are any people on board 
 we shall care to know." The next morning I 
 rescued a sheet of letter paper, well written over, 
 from going into the sea. In order that I might 
 return in to the owner I glanced hastily down 
 the first page, and hereon found this same idea 
 expressed in a more prolix manner. Under the 
 circumstances I felt rather awkward in handing it 
 to her, but we all found out it was her first trip, 
 that her husband was rich and owned a yacht, and 
 that they did not know how long they should be 
 abroad or where they were going. We called her 
 " Mrs. Miller " and the daughter " Daisy," and the 
 younger brother quite completed the trio, as he 
 was very restless and inclined to know people. 
 
 Mons. La Grippe had sent a number of his 
 victims to sea in this boat. They came on board 
 as a last resort, and I am happy to state we will 
 have all of them walking about and feeling very 
 cheerful before we land.
 
 io AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 CORK, June 20, 1890. 
 
 This letter was interrupted by the many things 
 that were crowded in at the last attending to 
 luggage, feeing stewards, saying good-bye, with 
 honest regret to many, and finally on Friday at 
 noon seeing, quite as soon as the captain, the first 
 Irish bull ever made, a huge rock which, with the 
 cow and calf, tell us our journey is almost over. 
 Five hours of drifting past the huge inlets of the 
 Irish coast brings us to Queenstown, and we leave 
 the ship at 12 o'clock on the tender Flying Fox. 
 From the Daily Corkscrew or Examiner we learn 
 that Mary Anderson, the pale and stately, has 
 wedded been, and that some nine has beaten the 
 Buffalos. Such interesting and depressing news r 
 all in one paper, gives us a clear idea of what has 
 transpired in our country during the last ten days. 
 
 Amid cheers, good-byes, and waving handker- 
 chiefs, we leave our good ship, with her myriad 
 port-holes glaring with light, and are soon at 
 Queenstown. We enjoy an easy passage through 
 the new and perfectly appointed custom house, 
 thanks to Mr. Manifold and his kind attentions, 
 and by 1.30 A. M. are in the Queen's Hotel. 
 Here we can keep gangway in the corridors and 
 soon find ourselves in a bed which doesn't rock 
 beneath us. The first night's rest is heavenly ! 
 We love the sea, but we also love the land !
 
 ON SHIPBOARD. u 
 
 Early the following morning we discover a 
 grand yachting race is on. The harbor of Queens- 
 town, one of the very finest in the world, is alive 
 with crafts of many kinds, brilliant with bunting, 
 and yet we must not linger. Up the River Lee 
 we go in a steam-yacht part way to Cork, and 
 then quite there by train. Exclamations burst 
 from all at the beauty of the scene, and at last 
 Cork is reached. From here we drive out to 
 Blarney Castle, a few rods from the station of 
 Blarney. The ruin is everything that a ruin with 
 any pride about it should be, and we, of course, 
 kiss the famous stone blessed by Father Prout 
 seven times, each kiss adding seven years to our 
 lives. Good-natured Mrs. Ford, who shows us 
 about, assures us we are sure to be married now, 
 and hopes we may return with our husbands to 
 prove her words come true. 
 
 We gather shamrock and yellow vetch and pick 
 up crow's feathers in the castle, and bright yellow 
 taraxicum (the English dandelion) in the fields 
 beyond. It is twice the size of ours and has three 
 nicks on the edge of each petal. After a glimpse 
 of the Tower through the " peep-hole " in the old 
 stone bridge of the village, we have a luncheon 
 in a quaint hotel, over which we wandered ad 
 libitum while the hostess prepared our food. Her 
 kitchen ceiling is ornamented with flanks of bacon.
 
 12 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 It must hang there in dust and mould for a 
 twelvemonth, she says, and then, being soaked 
 twenty-four hours, cuts like glass and is delicious 
 to eat. 
 
 Once more in Cork, we take a jaunting-car, 
 "and have the mostest fun " driving about to see 
 Queen's College and by the Sunday Well road to 
 Shandon Church, whose bells would have sounded 
 very grand on the River Lee if they had only 
 chimed for us. As it was we became interested 
 in a strayed or stolen red heifer, which was adver- 
 tised by placards stuck up on every spare spot 
 on wall or fence, and in the remarkably old men 
 and women we met. The former wear huge 
 black circulars. If married, this has a hood ; if 
 single, a cape. 'Tis the event in a woman's life 
 when she gets this garment, for it costs five and 
 six pounds sterling and must last a lifetime, being 
 of heavy cloth. 
 
 Three o'clock finds us in a third-class railway 
 carriage for Bantry. We have as companions 
 opposite us two women, a little girl, a boy and 
 a typical old Irishman, wearing an antique silk 
 hat, with his belongings done up in a red-cotton 
 handkerchief. One of us offers the boy tup- 
 pence for his seat by the window. He rises at 
 once, changes seats with her, but, to our amaze- 
 ment, refuses the reward. This act puts him
 
 ON SHIPBOARD. 13 
 
 beside a comrade, and we discover, after several 
 questions, that they are on their way to join the 
 training ship, the Shannon, in Bantry Bay, and 
 have come all the way from Galway that day. 
 
 During conversation the old woman opposite 
 discovers we are not as other folks are, and in a 
 moment of enthusiasm rises, and, seizing me by 
 the hand, cries out : 
 
 "Are yez from Ameriky ? Then welcome to 
 ould Ireland ! " 
 
 This completely breaks the ice. I give the 
 small girl an American penny, we answer no end 
 of questions, and finally my old friend says : 
 
 " Have yez no elastic on yer hat ? " 
 
 " No," I answer, and, drawing out my hat-pin, 
 I completely transfix her mentally with it, and 
 had it not been my only one, she should have 
 had it for her cleverness in observing. As she 
 approaches her station she rises, and saying, " Me 
 name's Mrs. Haley; what might yur name be?" 
 she points out her house, not far off from the 
 r road, and politely invites us all to come and see 
 her if we return that way. Should I live for a hun- 
 dred years, I shall never forget her unexpected 
 welcome, and trust it is an omen of many good 
 times to come in this sunny Emerald Isle.
 
 LETTER II. 
 IRISH SCENES. 
 
 The Dreadful Poverty of the Peasantry A Priest up 
 Before a Court He is Accused of Incendiary Speeches 
 Against an Episcopal Clergyman. 
 
 GLENGARIFFE, COUNTY CORK, IRELAND, 
 June 23, 1890. 
 
 IN my last letter I left you at Bantry. Here 
 our third-class carriage drew up exactly opposite 
 the stage-coach stand, where an Irish Jehu stood 
 ready to help us mount his red-wheeled vehicle. 
 This we did with alacrity, getting front seats, 
 while our more stylish friends were coming from 
 their first-class cars, up in the front of the train. 
 How glad we were to be once more in the fresh 
 air, which here was salt from the sea, I need not 
 emphasize. Suffice to say, when under way we, 
 found our driver civil and witty and wide awake 
 to all the often-seen beauty of his native land. 
 
 In answer to my question : " Have you any 
 relations in America ?-" he replied : 
 
 " I have, Miss thray brothers, and they are all 
 coachmin."
 
 IRISH SCENES. 15 
 
 " You should come over, too, and try your luck. 
 You seem a good whip/' 
 
 " I am, Miss, be nayture. Me fayther had fur 
 sons, and every wan of thim clung to the tail uv a 
 horse."' 
 
 After this, between chirruping to his four horses 
 and pointing out the various beauties of the 
 country, he confessed that, being "tharty-wan," 
 he had concluded 'twas " time to sittle down," 
 and that, having selected "a sinsible gurrl 
 should she be willin' he 'ud go over to Ameriky 
 when the sayson was over." Of course I assured 
 him it was the very best plan. 
 
 Since then I have learned that, in order to get a 
 husband, every Irish girl in this part of the coun- 
 try has to earn or obtain in some way thirty-five 
 shillings English money with which to pay the 
 marriage fee. With that once in her hand she 
 can easily be the belle of the county and marry 
 any disengaged man. Let us hope his sweetheart 
 has her dot and that their wedding may come off 
 in the autumn. 
 
 I am going to tell you a little about this very 
 rare drive from Bantry to Glengarifte. American 
 tourists in Ireland do not as a rule take it, since 
 to get to Killarney from Cork by rail, via Mal- 
 low, is so easy a matter. With an atlas you can 
 follow me, and, I am sure, should you ever land
 
 1 6 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 at Queenstown, you will be glad to know of such 
 a route in advance. 
 
 Leaving Bantry at 6.30 we were two hours 
 winding in and out about the three arms of Bantry 
 Bay which intervene between Bantry and Glen- 
 gariffe. Our path was a gradual ascent, our guide- 
 post a tree upon a high and distant hill. Each 
 turn of the road gave us new views of sea and 
 land, and the incoming tide murmured a sea-song 
 in perfect harmony with the sunset glow that 
 beautified each rock and tree. Nearly out at sea 
 on Widdy Island sat the " Old Maid of Erin " in 
 her stone chair. We would not have her inter- 
 preted by our guide to be " nought but an old 
 ruin, mum." At a turn in the road about half-way 
 to Glengariffe he pointed out to us the most 
 miserable hut, I verily believe, in existence. 
 
 "'Tis there, Miss, lives auld Catherine Shay. 
 She's nearly ninety years auld. See the schmoke 
 cuming out av her chimbley. No doot the auld 
 leddy is now preparin' her tabble-de-hote," he ex- 
 plained. 
 
 As for seeing the pig in the parlor, " the gin- 
 tleman who pays the rint," or the Irish canary, 
 as they call him, "because he sings so sweet," 
 such a sight grew too common to notice. 
 
 We have some well-kept horses in front of us, 
 to change the unpleasant scene, until after passing
 
 IRISH SCENES. 17 
 
 through a fairy-like grove between walls covered 
 with rare ferns, and topped with rhododendrons, 
 creepers of great variety, roses in profusion, holly, 
 arbutus, and yew, we draw up before our hotel, 
 " The Eccles." 
 
 Now I am not going to recommend this hotel, 
 for the reason that it is fashionable, expensive, 
 and, worse than all, important. The fact is, the 
 Prince of Wales, or Whales, as we call him, once 
 "stopped here "some fifteen or twenty years ago, 
 and ever since then the hotel and its proprietors 
 have had a very bad case of " La Grippe " or, in 
 English, "the grip" upon the purse of the trav- 
 eling American. In fact we concluded the " grip " 
 originated here. Be that as it may, after being duly 
 fleeced, we tried another of the three hotels here, 
 and found it suited in every way to cater both 
 to our appetites, tired bodies, and letters of credit. 
 Yes, the Bellevue is well named ! It had " liss 
 furnitoor than the Eccles, to be sure, but more 
 views, mum," as the landlord put it, and that was 
 what we wanted. 
 
 From our windows Glengariffe Bay, with its 
 many odd-shaped islands, one of them a perfect 
 triangle, could be seen at its best, and the view at 
 once claimed our attention. Perched on the top 
 of its most distant and rugged peninsula, stood
 
 i8 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 the ruin of a martello tower built 'in 1815 by the 
 English. A visit to it was at once planned. 
 
 Once on the bay, Glengariffe Castle loomed 
 in sight. 
 
 " Is that a castle ? " I asked of the guide. 
 
 " It is, mum." 
 
 " Who lives in it now ? " 
 
 " Payple, mum." 
 
 " What's their name ? " 
 
 " Mr. Whitemum." 
 
 " Mr. White ? " 
 
 " Mr. Whitemum." 
 
 " Is his name Mr. White ? " 
 
 " Mr. Whitemum." 
 
 Query What was the owner's name ? 
 
 As we approach the old tower I spy a hut 
 beneath it in the rock. 
 
 " Who lives up there ? " I asked. 
 
 " Folks, mum," he answers. 
 
 " How did those goats get on that island ? " 
 I ask, seeing some animals a long way off from 
 any habitation. 
 
 " They boats 'em over, mum." 
 
 "Who the people in that house over there ?" 
 
 " Don't know, mum," and don't care either, 
 he might have added. 
 
 In the rector of the picturesque Episcopal 
 Church, the Rev. Mr. Carey, we found and made
 
 IRISH SCENES, 19 
 
 a friend. His is a quaint house, covered with 
 roses and -ivy, in the midst of a genuine old-fash- 
 ioned flower-garden. He courteously welcomed 
 us to, and gave us, the freedom of it, filling our 
 arms with rarest flowers. These, of course, have 
 faded, but the memories they accentuated will 
 always remain. 
 
 Monday morning was warm and fair, a repeti- 
 tion of what we have had since landing, but we 
 did not carry out our plan to coach to Killarney. 
 We had received an invitation from Mr. Cecil R. 
 Roche, R. M., to attend a trial that day at Bantry 
 of a priest, Father Crowley of Goleen, for intimi- 
 dating the Rev. Mr. Hopely of the same place, 
 an Episcopal clergyman between seventy and 
 eighty years old. 
 
 In a jaunting-car we took the same enchanting 
 road back to Bantry we had traversed Saturday 
 evening, only this time we stopped to gather ferns, 
 iris, bog cotton, and various flowers, and finally 
 drew up before the hut of Mrs. Shay. "She was 
 standing on the turf near the road, the picture of 
 wretched neglect. I went towards her and won 
 her heart by saying : " How do you do, Mrs. 
 Shay," as I shook her hand. " We have come to 
 see you." 
 
 " Arragh, and I've sane ye before, me dear," she 
 replied.
 
 20 AS IV E SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 Without contradicting her, I asked : " How old 
 are you, Mrs. Shay ? " 
 
 " Ninety, going on wan," she answered in a 
 tremulous voice. 
 
 " May we go into your house, Mrs. Shay ? " we 
 asked in chorus, so anxious were we all to see 
 what the interior could be like. 
 
 She showed plainly she was ashamed " for the 
 loikes of us," as she said, "to see it ;" but this did 
 not deter us. I had to stoop at the entrance, and 
 my body made the windowless hut perfectly dark. 
 Once in, I could see a glimmer of light which 
 came down the chimney, under which a three- 
 legged iron pot looked at home among some 
 smoldering bits of peat. The smoke was circu- 
 lating about the room, the floor was dirt, and I 
 peered about to find a bed. This I discovered, at 
 an arm's length from me, was merely a pallet of 
 rags, and nestled beside it two tiny kittens ! As 
 I exclaimed, the mother cat came out of the bed, 
 purring as happily as if in a palace. Mrs. Shay 
 entered just here, evidently anxious to get me out, 
 and I was glad to go, after a glimpse at the 
 ceiling and walls, from which hung small stalac- 
 tites of smoke deposit. I assure you that it is my 
 earnest wish that never again shall I see such an 
 evidence of a creature forgotten by humanity. 
 " I've a lot of childer in Ameriky, but they niver
 
 IRISH SCENES. 21 
 
 writes me anny more," she wailed out, and in fact 
 she was rather misty upon the subject of their 
 whereabouts. 
 
 A short drive brought us to Bantry, which was 
 alive with people on the qui vive to see all there 
 was to see. The women, barefooted, unkempt, 
 and with big circulars thrown about them, kept 
 pace with the men, who brandished shillalies and 
 wore a green leaf in their hats, or a green ribbon 
 in their button-holes. 
 
 By innocent questions I got a variety of infor- 
 mation from the different people standing near me. 
 
 " What is going on to-day ? " I asked a woman. 
 
 " Well, ye see, they are going to thry a praste." 
 
 " Indeed ; for what cause ? " 
 
 " Well, Miss," she answered, with rather a 
 perplexed face, "they do say he forbade the 
 young gurrls of his congregation goin' wid the 
 constabulary." 
 
 "Why?" I innocently asked. 
 
 " Oh ! these polacemen can dance on us whin 
 they loike, ye see." 
 
 Two other excited women were in such a state 
 that all they could say was : " Won't there be a 
 ritin' at the day of jidgment." 
 
 Just here the old clergyman, Mr. Hopely, gray 
 "and bowed down with years, quietly approached 
 the court-room door, at which we were standing,
 
 22 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 under the care of a sergeant of police. As he 
 entered the door a young clergyman joined him 
 and handed him a note. 
 
 The large square in which the court-house, a 
 queer-shaped plaster building, was situated over- 
 looked the Bay of Bantry.* All streets leading into 
 the town converged here, and at each street was 
 placed either police, marines from the flag-ship 
 Shannon, then in port, or soldiers from the garrison 
 at Cork. The first attempt to pass the guard was 
 made by a party of mounted men. They were 
 turned back and told to dismount. Then came 
 the priest in a cart with a body-guard of mounted 
 men of every kind and description. In their hats 
 were green leaves, and the foremost held a green 
 banner, on which was printed " No Surrender." 
 As they dashed into the square, the people waved 
 and hurrahed ; but their progress was stopped by 
 the marines, and they were bid dismount. 
 
 Now, since I went to this trial quite unprej- 
 udiced, with a desire to get some idea of the state 
 of feeling between the contending parties in this 
 ill-fated country, I shall tell the story of what 
 happened before my eyes. 
 
 Just after the advent of the prisoner we were 
 admitted into the gallery opposite the reporters' 
 
 * From out of this bay, in 1859, sailed the Great Eastern, with" 
 the first ocean cable, the invention of which created a new era in 
 the world of news.
 
 IRISH SCENES. 
 
 gallery, reserved for my party. It was about the 
 size of a family pew, and from it we watched the 
 two judges enter, and then the plaintiff, with 
 witnesses on one side and the defendant on the 
 other. The lawyer for the defendant, Mr. Shinkwin 
 (or, as the journals of the day got it, Sherkwin 
 and Shirkwin ), was 
 very busy arranging 
 his papers, and his 
 reverend client be- 
 gan at once to hob- 
 nob with him and 
 make penciled notes. 
 Opposite sat the Rev. 
 Mr. Hopely, and by 
 him two ponce ser- 
 geants, his witnesses, 
 his lawyer, Crown 
 Counsel Ronan, and 
 the local solicitor. 
 As soon as they were seated a few people, all who 
 could be seated, say one hundred, were admitted. 
 The constabulary were numerous, one to at least 
 every five persons present. 
 
 As soon as the case was called Mr. Shinkwin 
 complained that all Father Crowley's witnesses 
 had not been admitted. 
 
 Justice Roche said if he would give a list of 
 
 JUSTICE ROCHE.
 
 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 those missing they should be admitted, but that 
 the peace of this trial should not be broken by 
 men who desired to ride 
 nto court on horseback. 
 At this Mr. Shinkwin sat 
 down, giving no list. 
 
 Mr. Ronan now pre- 
 sented the case in terse 
 language. He was a pale- 
 faced, wiry man and more 
 than a match for Mr. 
 Shinkwin. 
 
 The trouble had all 
 
 DURING CROSS-EXAMINATION. arisen from bad whisky, 
 
 to wit: A man named Bagley, having been evicted, 
 
 erected a hut on a piece of land belonging to the 
 
 Established Church, 
 
 opposite the Rev. Mr. 
 
 Hopely's parsonage. 
 
 On this same piece 
 
 lived a man named 
 
 Dunovan, who drank 
 
 and was worthless. 
 
 Upon returning one 
 
 day from church, Mr. 
 
 Hopely Was approach- LISTENING TO TESTIMONY. 
 
 ed on the high-road by this man, who, being 
 wild with drink, flourished a whip over his
 
 IRISH SCENES. 25 
 
 head, and was restrained fortunately from any 
 violent act by a sergeant who was coming 
 down the road, taken to the lockup and held 
 for trial. 
 
 Strange to say, and perhaps not so strange 
 either, having always lived at peace with Mr. 
 Hopely, who was his pastor, he called him, along 
 
 ANTIQUE PRISONERS' DOCK IN BANTRY COURT HOUSE. 
 
 with Sergeant Ross, as a witness for him. Being 
 duly sworn to "tell the whole truth and nothing 
 but the truth," the Rev. Mr. Hopely and Sergeant 
 Ross gave their statement of the case. As a result 
 Dunovan was fined five shillings, or sentenced to 
 jail for one week. He chose the latter. When 
 this became known, Father Crowley took up the 
 case, and for three Sundays, after mass, made 
 speeches, in which he was reported to have 
 used incendiary language ; and for this he was 
 arrested.
 
 26 
 
 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 NOT A KERRY BEAUTY. 
 
 A week before this the case had been called 
 for trial in Goleen ; but so great was the disturb- 
 ance raised by Father Crowley's 
 friends, in the court-room, that 
 it was decided best to adjourn 
 
 (sj 7/i/lll lt ' removm S the trial from that 
 
 V/Jlll district .< Bantr >'- H Hen the 
 
 precautions to guard each ave- 
 nue of entrance into Bantry 
 Square which I have mentioned. 
 While the witnesses were on 
 the stand I occupied myself in observing the 
 audience. It was at first a picture of animation, 
 consisting of a fair proportion of both sexes. I 
 thought they had come 
 with a purpose, so de- 
 termined were they to 
 get in, and so they 
 had, for as soon as the 
 novelty of the situa- 
 tion began to wane, the 
 day being warm, most 
 of them settled down 
 for a nap. Our artist, 
 with a quick pen, 
 
 ... , A DREAM. 
 
 sketched at will, they 
 
 being none the wiser, beginning with Judge 
 
 Roche, she took in the prisoner's dock en passant,
 
 IRISH SCENES. 27 
 
 and finished with some of the sleeping beauties 
 forninst the wall. The women's heads were mostly 
 hooded. I felt sorry for thei* faces that they 
 could not cover with hair ; but why should I, 
 when their husbands exposed all the upper lip 
 they could, while they covered their cheeks and 
 throats with "County Antrims " and "Galloways." 
 
 It was truly the occasion of my life for the 
 study of physiognomy, since no greater contrast 
 could be imagined than existed between the faces 
 of the handsome and dignified judge and those 
 in the audience. And yet the sajne blood flowed 
 in their veins, they were of the same religious 
 faith in fact, they were all Irish. 
 
 While these thoughts and many more which I 
 will not mention, since they might be misunder- 
 stood were passing through my mind, a number 
 of witnesses had been examined and cross- 
 examined, and the testimony they gave did not 
 tend to raise one's opinion of the young and 
 well-fed looking priest undergoing trial. 
 
 Crown Counsel Ronan, while the other side had 
 the floor, was also a study. He yawned, and 
 fidgeted, and looked bored ; but the moment it 
 was his turn to talk he was alert, and in every way 
 a changed man. He stood with both hands in his 
 pockets, and part of the time with one foot up on 
 a bench, and in this undignified attitude seemed
 
 28 AS WE SAHLIT IN '90. 
 
 to claim the attention of every spectator. The 
 fact was, his every word and question told, and yet 
 he seemed perfectly unconscious of how clever 
 he was. 
 
 The lawyer for the defense was choleric to a 
 degree, and since the Court was not allowed a 
 stenographer, the judge had to write all the testi- 
 mony. This delayed his questions, and made him 
 more and more nervous, until his brogue made 
 his questions almost unintelligible. He succeeded 
 in getting the information that Father Crowley 
 had made three most unguarded addresses to his 
 congregation after service, in which he told them, 
 " If ye get a measure of local government, no 
 more rent will have to be paid to landlords, agents, 
 or other wild animals," and that "when Dunovan 
 got out of jail he would become a Catholic, and 
 that the men, women, and those who had children, 
 should meet him on his return, and those who 
 failed to do so, might as well leave auld Ireland 
 and go live in Cape Clear ; " and he added, " if 
 we can't afford a brass band, I will buy you one 
 thousand tin whistles to use instead, and old 
 Hopely will be killed of fright." 
 
 After this, and a great deal that was more 
 incendiary, had been testified to, and which Mr. 
 Shinkwin had failed to overthrow by his cross- 
 questions, the Court took a recess of an hour.
 
 IRISH SCENES. 29 
 
 Mr. Shinkwin was anxious to go right on, and said 
 that Mr. Justice Stevens sat recently until 3 A. M., 
 to which Justice Roche replied, " Well, we don't 
 intend to follow his example." 
 
 It was now 3.30, and as Court went in at 12 
 o'clock, we were glad enough to be out once more 
 in the pure air and sunshine, away from the sight 
 and sound of brothers disagreeing, especially in a 
 land and at a time when good-will is needed. 
 
 After an informal luncheon at the hotel, during 
 which we met the Associate Justice, Major Welsh, 
 and Crown Counsel Ronan, we went up through 
 the town to see what it was like. From the hill, 
 at which the main street terminated, we could 
 overlook Bantry Bay. Close at hand were many 
 mills. I asked a cottager, near by, what was made 
 in them, in order to get a little inside her door-sill 
 to see the quaint and clean interior of her house, 
 and she replied, " They makes clots (clothes) and 
 fryzes (freizes) in them, they do." Just here, the 
 most pitiful specimen of humanity I ever beheld 
 approached. A mass of rags and tatters, with 
 long, tangled hair, he was an ideal " wild man of 
 Borneo." Of course I asked his name, and she 
 replied, " Jack O'Leary, they calls him mostly." 
 So, I suppose, that is what we had better call 
 him, mostly.
 
 30 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 The streets swarmed with people, as they would 
 on fair-day, and yet no one in the crowd seemed 
 to have any business except to look on. 
 
 Again we go winding in and out among Bantry 
 Bay inlets ; * again we pass beneath the entranc- 
 ing verdure of the drive through the grounds of 
 Roche's Hotel, near Glengariffe ; and, once more, 
 are comfortably dined and rested in the hospitable 
 Bellevue. 
 
 Such a moon, and such a gradual decline of day 
 as we had that evening ! As soon as the twilight 
 died, all the mountains about blazed forth with 
 bonfires, for it was the " Eve of St. John's." 
 This custom is a remnant of the fire-worshipers 
 that still exists. They say, " If your cattle can 
 walk through the fire without being burned, you 
 will have good luck all the year." 
 
 I spent the evening in an endeavor to explain 
 the whys and wherefores of our American politics 
 and customs to two Devonshire lads off here for a 
 holiday. One, an architect, knew dear friends of 
 mine in Plymouth, Devon, and, as we chatted, I 
 realized, as I often do, how very small our big, 
 round, bustling world is after all, and how many 
 delightful people one meets during a holiday like 
 the one we are now enjoying. 
 
 * This drive passes under the one wire connecting the cable 
 with Dublin.
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 KILLARNEY'S LAKES. 
 
 A Visit to Them Under Very Pleasant Circumstances 
 Guide O'Connor s Bubbling Fun The Throng of Bare- 
 footed Girls -who Accompany Visitors Muckross Abbey. 
 
 KILLARNEY, June 27, 1890. 
 
 IT was not my intention to write much about 
 Ireland, but, despite all that has been written and 
 all I have read about it, Killarney and the neigh- 
 borhood have been a perfect revelation, and I 
 anticipate what is before me will be equally new. 
 
 It has been said, and I have proved the truth 
 of the saying, that the drive from Bantry via 
 Glengariffe to Killarney cannot be excelled. The 
 day after the trial at Bantry, amid sunshine and 
 blue skies, we left Glengariffe. As we were 
 whirled up the road past the parsonage, the 
 rector stood at the gate to bid us Godspeed. The 
 coach was loaded with English and Americans. 
 Our four sat directly behind the driver. With 
 him was a Welshman and an Englishman, behind 
 us our two Devonshire lads, and on either side
 
 32 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 of them a Boston man ; then an English parson 
 and his bride, a papa and three daughters, etc. 
 The parson had breakfasted opposite us off a 
 goodly supply of " 'am and heggs," the national 
 breakfast stand-by, and a pot of tea. This tea is 
 our bete noire. After it is boiled as black as ink, 
 to do the correct thing you must dilute it with 
 boiling water and hot milk, and when sufficient 
 sugar is added, I am sure all will agree with me, 
 it is neither fit for man or beast. Still the natives 
 drink and apparently enjoy it ! A hunk or loaf, 
 so called here, of bread, eighteen inches around, 
 is placed .before him, and off this he hacks pieces 
 as best he may. His toast is stone cold before 
 he gets it, and butter never changes color or shape 
 when pasted on it. 
 
 Just here his wife, in pink gingham, comes in. 
 We shiver! As she seats herself at a most uncom- 
 fortable distance from the table, to imitate him, 
 she says : 
 
 " Had you a dip, dear ? " 
 
 He " Yes ; a very jolly dip." 
 
 She " Was it cold, love ? " 
 
 He " No. Not a bit. I only saw one jelly- 
 fish, and that was dead." 
 
 At this juncture the waiter quiets her with a 
 twin supply to that of her husband, and we silently
 
 KILLARNEY'S LAKES. 33 
 
 wonder if he realized the jellyfish was like himself, 
 viz., soft. 
 
 While I have been telling you of our companions 
 our coach has arrived, after various turnings and 
 climbings, on a steep mountain road, below the 
 edge of which yawns a terrible gulf, and above 
 which tower rocks. Afar on the highest mountain 
 lies a lake, explored only by those who can climb 
 to it, and before us is the mouth of a gruesome 
 tunnel. 
 
 The coach halts, and our driver, who by this 
 time has proved himself most tantalizing with his 
 terrible brogue and lack of aptitude to give us 
 any information, tells us he will wait here " tin 
 minits." At the roadside is a miserable thatched 
 hut, and in an adjoining part we discover a man, 
 looking more like a gnome, so old, weazened and 
 pale was his face, in darkness, save what light 
 crept in at the very small opening. He was seated 
 before a loom, and as we stood in silence before 
 him he clamped away at the treadles, never chang- 
 ing a muscle. 
 
 " What is that linen ? " I asked. 
 
 " Flannel, mum," was the answer. 
 
 He looked as if a " hatti-sheriff " had been 
 served upon him by fates high in authority, and 
 because he was the first unsolicitant we had
 
 34 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 encountered, we each left him a small monetary 
 remembrance. 
 
 The cry " To coach ! " interrupted our visit, and 
 in a moment more we were within the tunnel. It 
 was just long enough to be dimly lit from either 
 end. As we gazed at its ceiling, decorated with 
 ferns, we had to dodge the water that in one place 
 fell in a shower, and it was amusing to notice how 
 such incidents tended to increase the friendliness 
 of all on the coach. As we emerged, a rare pano- 
 rama was spread for our delectation. Directly 
 before us, distant and darkly blue, just a glimpse 
 of McGillicuddy Reeks. On either side were the 
 lesser hills that shut in the Gap of Dunloe and 
 the Lakes of Killarney, and to our left Kenmare 
 Bay, with its pretty town, separated from us by 
 a bridge. 
 
 Our driver cut a dash as we drew up before the 
 principal hotel ; but, being warned not to patron- 
 ize it, we wandered with our companions down its 
 broadest street, which ends at the monastery. 
 Here they investigated its salesroom for laces, 
 while our four returned to a cleanly little shop 
 kept by " Mary Ann," as we were informed, who 
 in just a jiffy had prepared for us a most eatable 
 luncheon. 
 
 She told us that the town was in mourning for 
 a young man just dead, who was much beloved
 
 KILLARNEY' S LAKES. 35 
 
 and was to have been married in a month. He 
 had left a fortune of fifteen thousand pounds. 
 
 The remainder of the trip to Killarney was 
 full of interest, although we left all sea views 
 behind us. 
 
 Not far from Kenmare, our first view of the 
 lower lake was obtained. This resembled the nar- 
 rowest parts of the St. Lawrence River with its 
 many islands. Then we climbed around Manger- 
 ton, with Lake Cutane to our right by way of vari- 
 ety, and after many tantalizing glimpses through 
 the dense forests, between our road and the middle 
 and upper lake, we reached Muckross Abbey 
 Hotel. 
 
 We were weary enough to descend here, and 
 would have done so had not our trunks been in 
 Killarney, for the hotel was the picture of neat- 
 ness embowered amid roses and fuchsia hedges, 
 and, after a rest and supper, we could easily have 
 walked to the Abbey, instead of which we had 
 to return there from Killarney, a distance of 
 two miles. 
 
 At the Lake Side Hotel we were met by a 
 motley number of so-called "touts," who all 
 yelled at once a plea for their hotels. But our 
 destination was predestined, from the fact that the 
 agent of the Great Southern Railway, Mr. Mani- 
 fold at Queenstown, had transported our baggage,
 
 36 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 free of charge, to the Railway Hotel, and upon our 
 arrival there we found it in the hall to welcome us. 
 
 For the benefit of those who may come after 
 me I can sincerely recommend this hotel, and yet 
 in the town there are those quite as clean, less 
 pretentious, and much cheaper, where anyone 
 would be made comfortable, among them the 
 Ennisfallen and Palace. 
 
 When you have always anticipated having a 
 perfect day for Killarney's lakes, it is rather a 
 damper to be awakened, on the morning set apart 
 for your trip, by the tap of rain upon your window- 
 pane. With a heavy heart you find yourself re- 
 peating : " If it rains before seven it will clear 
 before eleven." And sure enough, by 11.30 o'clock 
 the clouds break and the sun comes out. 
 
 Let me remind you just here that a party of 
 four or six can see the lakes for about seven 
 shillings apiece, whereas three or five are charged 
 nine shillings each. My experience was that the 
 excursion from the Railway Hotel was perfectly 
 managed, and yet those who went out from the 
 Ennisfallen Hotel at the same time went at least 
 one dollar cheaper. 
 
 With our party was sent a guide, James O'Con- 
 nor, as intelligent, droll, quick-witted, and amus- 
 ing an Irishman as I have yet met. He assured us 
 that "when the mist hung on the mountains 'twas
 
 KILLARNEY'S LAKES. 37 
 
 a sign of fair weather," and when the day, at the 
 end of it, was pronounced to be the finest in all 
 respects for the excursion they had had this sea- 
 son, we were most flattered, and felt well repaid 
 for the exertion it cost us. 
 
 In order to reach the Gap of Dunloe our 
 " machine " took us past fine estates, around the 
 northern and down the western shore of the 
 upper lake. This is broad, and is full of well- 
 wooded islands, of which we at this time only had 
 glimpses. Just before the Gap was reached we 
 were met by men and boys on ponies, who solic- 
 ited our patronage for a ride through the glen. 
 The fair weather beguiled us into making the 
 three miles, more probably five, on foot, which 
 only a resident of Albany, or an equally hilly town, 
 could do with impunity. As a result we were 
 painfully reminded of all sorts of unknown mus- 
 cles for a week after, in our down-sittings and 
 up-risings. 
 
 The refused pony-men were supplemented by 
 girls and women with immense yarn socks for sale, 
 and they looked dumfounded no, incredulous 
 rather, for they never ceased to talk when you 
 said : 
 
 "Alas ! I have no husband to buy socks for." 
 
 " Then take a glass of goat's milk and moun- 
 tain-dew, me butiful leddy."
 
 38 AS WE SA W IT IN '90. 
 
 " Is it called poteen, because it's put in ? " we 
 asked. 
 
 " Sure 'tis, me leddy." 
 
 Barefooted and eager, they followed our wagon 
 for miles. If one thing failed to sell, they at once 
 tried something new. 
 
 " Buy an Irish canary that pays our rint, me 
 leddy, just to remember ' Colleen Bawn,' shure, or 
 a picture of meself, if ye plaize." 
 
 "But you're not ' Colleen Bawn,' " I replied. 
 
 " No, I'm not, but I'm livin' in place av her," 
 she quickly answered. I bought the picture at 
 once. 
 
 At Kate Kearney's cottage we were solicited 
 by her great-granddaughter, aged seventy, to buy 
 pictures, mountain-dew, and what not. Our guide 
 suggested "That's a very bad kind of whisky 
 when you can't get it," and I that the milk was 
 from a cow and not a goat. 
 
 We drank to the health and success of our party, 
 O'Connor adding, in his whimsical way, " May you 
 never die, until the skin of a gooseberry makes a 
 coffin for ye, and that will be niver ! " 
 
 Between this halt and the entrance to the Gap 
 he repeated the legend of "The Colleen Bawn," 
 and how " Daddy Man," who drowned her, was 
 executed, besides playing some Irish melodies on 
 a cornet, which were echoed three times distinctly.
 
 KILLARNEY'S LAKES. 39 
 
 At the halt we find the inlaid-wood shops and 
 manufactories established by O'Connor's father, 
 now ninety years old, who still works at his busi- 
 ness. His cheery-faced sister attends to this shop, 
 and showed us some most expensive pieces of fur- 
 niture made to order for a gentleman in Australia. 
 The arbutus wood grows on all the islands in the 
 lakes, and this, as well as the bog-oak and other 
 colored wood, is just at their hand. Altogether 
 the Gap cottage was a most attractive and allur- 
 ing place. 
 
 Here the parties from different hotels dis- 
 mounted, and, with the guides carrying our 
 wraps, we proceeded up-hill for our walk through 
 the Gap. 
 
 It was comparatively an easy matter for us 
 to get rid of the persistent natives, but several 
 good-looking men were besieged by Bridgets, 
 Marys, and Ellens, who carried socks under one 
 arm, and a bottle of milk and mountain-dew 
 under the other. Although O'Connor said he 
 would tell Father Somebody on them, they fol- 
 lowed still, past Cushvalley Lough in the bot- 
 tom of which can be seen on a clear day a box 
 containing the last snake killed by St. Patrick in 
 Ireland and on into the Black Valley. Here we 
 leave the road, and over rocks and marsh, finding 
 glorious bell-heather, we descend into its heart.
 
 40 AS WE SAW 77' IN '90. 
 
 The amphitheater formed by the hills here is the 
 grandest I have ever seen. One thatched cottage 
 alone, of which our artist makes a water-color, 
 detracts from the solitude of the place. O'Connor 
 makes one of the Sullivan girls say " Black Val- 
 ley" in Irish Cush-ma-duve is what it sounds like 
 and we wish among the group of girls there was 
 one fair to look upon. They are strongly built, 
 but outside of honest blue eyes, they have tawny 
 complexions, snub noses, and straight and often 
 short hair. Then when they smile, the worst 
 comes to view. Such teeth ! and if perfect teeth, 
 such dirty ones ! It's all very well for novelists to 
 tell of rustic beauties with pearly teeth and ruby 
 p;. If there were such ever in existence, they 
 have long since gone where their faces were their 
 fortunes, leaving their plainer and more honest 
 sisters to wear short petticoats and show brown 
 ankles and bare feet. 
 
 They seem quite as unaware of their accent as 
 a Bon Silene does of its perfume, and if you imitate 
 them they are vastly amused at your failure. 
 
 By degrees we reach the gate, beyond which 
 they cannot go, and here their persistence is 
 appalling. 
 
 " Just another glass of poteen to remember your 
 swate smilin' face, me leddy," they urge. 
 
 To a rather stout and good-natured Boston
 
 KILLARNEY'S LAKES. 41 
 
 physician one of them says : " Take another glass, 
 sir. You're a nice stout gintleman, and I shan't for- 
 get yez." And thus they persist to the bitter end. 
 
 After the privilege of walking price one shil- 
 ling through some lord or another's grounds, we 
 come out upon the lower lake, which we had seen 
 first the day of our arrival. Here four men await 
 us with a huge row-boat, and as it is three o'clock 
 the sandwiches sent from the hotel are most 
 refreshing. 
 
 This is the pleasantest part of the excursion, as 
 we are pulled in and out among these beautiful 
 islands, while O'Connor relates a legend of this 
 or that one, or plays under Eagle's Nest " The 
 Star Spangled Banner," which echoes and re- 
 echoes for our pleasure. 
 
 Before we go into the middle lake, which is 
 only a connecting link between the upper and 
 lower lakes, our boatmen pull up at a rock, and 
 from it we see three openings. 
 
 " Now, guess which is the right channel out 
 of this basin," they say. 
 
 Only one, a Rochester man, guesses correctly, 
 and he chooses a different part from that to which 
 they have directed our attention. 
 
 O'Connor gets the oldest boatman quite riled, 
 saying : " Now, Mick, you must pay" for the 
 drinks."
 
 42 AS IV E SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 " Faith, I won't," he replies. 
 
 " Oh, that's because you're a soured auld bach- 
 elor," says O'Connor in reply. 
 
 As we drifted on toward the " meeting of the 
 waters " and the Weir Bridge, the oldest in Ire- 
 land, where the boat goes through the rapids, 
 O'Connor sings a weird Irish drinking song, and 
 the boatmen join in the chorus, the wail of which 
 will hang by us for many a day. ' 
 
 The excitement of doing the rapids and the 
 entrance into the upper and largest lake being 
 over, we are shown a house where the Queen 
 lunched when here. 
 
 " Mick " informs us he was one of the men to 
 row her that day. 
 
 " It was just afther me returnin' from Ameriky." 
 
 " Did you run away for fear of the War, Mick 
 Thornton?" says O'Connor. 
 
 " Faith, I wish I had not, because now I might 
 be a captain or phat not, if I had remained," 
 replies Mick, begging the question. 
 
 As we glide up this grand lake in the most 
 perfect weather, each peak that surrounds it 
 stands out in individual glory, and our heads 
 fairly swim with the legends of O'Donohue's 
 exploits hither and yon, of how the devil drinks 
 out of his punch-bowl each Christmas eve on 
 one mountain, and of how seven white mice on
 
 KILLARNEY'S LAKES. 43 
 
 beautiful Ennisfallen, Killarney's rarest isle, can 
 be seen every Sunday after mass, until we say in 
 chorus : " Mr. O'Connor, do you never tire telling 
 all this?" 
 
 " Yes, sometimes," he answers. "When I have 
 stupid people, I am so tired that I'd like to die 
 if I was prepared," he answers, with a gleam in 
 his honest blue eye that shows he will be capable 
 of much enjoyment still to come. 
 
 "Where is the devil buried, Mr. O'Connor?" I 
 asked. 
 
 "Buried !" he exclaims ; " in hell, I suppose." 
 
 "No, I am referring to an old song my Irish 
 nurse used to sing to me years ago," I answered. 
 " You see when I had been naughty and then 
 became good again, she used to say the evil one 
 had gone out of me, and would croon to me an old 
 Irish song 
 
 ' Humph la ! the divil is dead, 
 
 Humph la ! the divil is dead, 
 
 Humph la ! the divil is dead, 
 
 And buried in Killarney.' " 
 
 "Well, Miss," he laughingly replies, "faith I 
 niver thought of that before, altho' I've known 
 the old song all my life. I think I'll have to inves- 
 tigate the matter for future tourists. It certainly 
 will be a new thing to tell, and I'm much obliged 
 to you for the suggestion."
 
 44 AS WE SAW 77 1 IN '90. 
 
 Here we have our last Irish song, which shouts 
 back at us from the ruined walls of Ross Castle, 
 Cromwell's last capture. Our boatmen pull for us 
 white water-lilies, with which the lake is clothed 
 here, arranging them daintily on a lily-pad and 
 tying the stems into a true lover.'s knot. We are, 
 I assure you, so full of all we have seen and of 
 happiness at our perfect day, that O'Donohue's 
 library in the rocks, which we had expected to be 
 agape over, seems a very small part after all that 
 has gone before. 
 
 On Ross Island we disembark, and, after a visit 
 to the castle, we are driven home. En route 
 O'Connor tells us about Puck Fair, held on every 
 eleventh of August at Killorglin, about thirty 
 miles from Killarney. Here girls go to be hired, 
 and the sensation of the hour is to dress up a 
 goat and put it on the tower of an old castle. He 
 told us the village priest could be seen at the fair, 
 of course, and that on one instance he said to 
 a former servant: "Where be ye livin' now?" 
 " Sure, your riverence, I ain't livin' at all, at all 
 I'm married," says she. We laugh heartily, of 
 course, over this, despite having heard it before. 
 
 " The young bucks have their fun, too," he adds. 
 " One time coming home they sang such a chorus 
 to their song, it actually shook the handle off the 
 pump on the roadside."
 
 KILLARNEY'S LAKES. 45 
 
 Near the town he shows us the house where 
 once lived Jeffrey Lynch, who cruelly evicted his 
 master's tenants. Failing to pay his own rent, he 
 was evicted, too, and at this he went over to 
 America. Failing in that country, he returned 
 home to die. From both Heaven and Purgatory 
 he was said to be turned away when it was dis- 
 covered what his record was on earth, and at last 
 he went down to the nether regions, when, to his 
 surprise, Satan said to his demand for entrance 
 there : " Whist, go away, Jeffrey Lynch, if I was 
 to let you in here you'd evict all me tinnents." 
 
 Just a word about Muckross Abbey. After 
 seeing all the grandest ruined fabrics of which old 
 England can boast to-day, I was amazed to come 
 upon anything so exquisite as this. The " care- 
 taker," or guardian, has been twelve years there, 
 being paid by the gentleman on whose estate it is, 
 and no doubt his ruin, for entrance to which we 
 all paid one shilling each, is a better inheritance 
 than all his land. Mr. Moriarty let us wander at 
 sweet will into all its quaint nooks and corners, 
 as he followed at a respectful distance. 
 
 "Where do you come from?" he asked as we 
 descended to the exit. 
 
 " From America," we answered. 
 
 " Faith, and I was sure you were not Irish. No
 
 46 AS IV E SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 one over here would see so much. You've been 
 in corners no one ever finds." 
 
 He had photographs for sale instead of taking a 
 fee, and confessed, after so long a service, this was 
 the first, year he had been in that trade. This was 
 a striking illustration of the lack of forehandedness 
 of his race. 
 
 Lord Kenmare has the most extensive demesnes 
 here. For the privilege of entrance he charges 
 sixpence each. You, of course, expect to see the 
 new castle, he mortgaged all he had to build in 
 order that his spouse .should be gratified ; but 
 no, upon approaching the house you are charged 
 sixpence more to go on the terrace only. In our 
 case, after a very long walk to the house, we were 
 informed that his lordship was going in to dinner. 
 " Didn't we hear the bell just after ringing?" We 
 had heard what had sounded like a locomotive 
 bell, and so we were turned back. Not even a fee 
 would soften the heart of the huge Irishman who 
 stood as a bulldog in our way, we were informed 
 on our tickets. But meeting him the next day, he 
 slyly confessed "a fee might have done some 
 good." 
 
 We concluded at this to take even the printed 
 tickets cum grano salis, when we had an object to 
 accomplish in Ireland. As it happened we saw
 
 KILLARNEY'S LAKES. 47 
 
 the house from, several directions after that and 
 were glad we kept our sixpence. 
 
 The moral to this trip is, if ever you are at 
 Killarney and I sincerely trust you may have 
 that rare good fortune pray for fair weather and 
 O'Connor for guide.
 
 LETTER IV. 
 SIGHTS IN IRELAND. 
 
 The Home at Youghal of Sir Walter Raleigh An Inter- 
 esting Old Church The Trip Up the Black-water and a 
 Visit to a Cistercian Monastery. 
 
 MALLOW, IRELAND, June 29, 1890. 
 As we persevere in our investigation of the 
 beauties of Irish scenery, no exclamation seems 
 better suited to our state of mind than that used 
 by Alice in Wonderland, " Curiouser and curi- 
 ouser " ! In the first place, rain precedes us 
 everywhere, laying the dust, which is fortunate 
 for our sight-seeing proclivities. It knows enough 
 to keep out of our way, you see, and when we 
 are told "it has been raining up to date," we 
 reply with assurance : " Look out for pleasant 
 weather now we are here," and, sure enough, Old 
 Sol beams upon us, as the wind, his enemy, 
 blows hard in the face of the clouds that some- 
 times lounge across the heavens, until they get 
 black in the face, burst, and disappear. Still it 
 is very cold. Heavy flannels, fur-lined wraps,
 
 SIGHTS IN IRELAND. 49 
 
 even seal-skins, can be worn with comfort, and 
 so far we have had weather in contrast to that 
 reported in America. 
 
 We buy the daily papers in hopes of getting 
 American news. The dispatches in them, how- 
 ever, are not worth the price, since they are 
 generally of a sporting nature, or too exaggerated 
 to be believed. For instance, " Chicago has had 
 such hot weather that the people, and horses 
 especially, dropped by the hundreds in the streets. 
 Not having enough ambulances to carry the dead 
 away, an epidemic of typhoid fever was raging." 
 This all in one day ! Experience has, therefore, 
 caused me to cease to wonder at the ignorance 
 about our country shown by really cultivated 
 people in Great Britain. If the papers would 
 print more general news regarding the world at 
 large and less about the murders and general 
 wickedness in this or that country, the people, 
 like quarrelsome children, would have their minds 
 diverted to some purpose and filled with useful 
 information, which could not but tend to broaden 
 their naturally cramped intellects. 
 
 In Youghal we found plenty to interest us. Its 
 patron saint may be called Sir Walter Raleigh, since 
 he lived here and in its neighborhood for years. 
 And yet a few miles off no one could tell us about 
 this picturesque town, except that it was a water-
 
 50 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 ing-place and was recommended 'Vas a pleasant 
 excursion from Queenstown or Cork." Fortu- 
 nately we had enough originality to discover it 
 led to much that was very interesting beyond. 
 Hence I write to tell you about it. 
 
 In the first place, I could make money on its 
 name at only a cent a guess as to how it is pro- 
 nounced. Now try. 
 
 You-ghal ? No ! 
 
 Youg-hal ? No ! 
 
 Yough-al ? No ! 
 
 " Well, how ? " I hear you ask. Simply " Yawl," 
 and nothing more. This I discovered when I tried 
 to buy my ticket to it from Killarney. It is the 
 swell southern watering-place of Ireland and on 
 its "strand," not beach, can be seen "mashers," 
 and humanity of all kinds. 
 
 This strand lies directly opposite the station, 
 and at four o'clock in the afternoon we found it 
 occupied by the visiting swells, among which a 
 " masher," as they denominate a " dude " over 
 here, stood out prominently, dressed in everything 
 that was loud and new. The women, with much- 
 frizzled bangs, wear very small white sailor hats, 
 set so high on the head that we have longed for 
 one to blow off in order to see if what held it 
 at such an absurd distance from the head was 
 a mat or something else. They walk with a
 
 SIGHTS IN IRELAND. 51 
 
 mincing gait, aided by huge crook-handled sticks, 
 and behind all is an immense bustle, more ele- 
 gantly called " confusion," which really deforms 
 them. 
 
 Bridgets and Ellens take care of the children, 
 who, with spades and buckets, amuse themselves 
 in the sand or ride on donkey back, while their 
 parents are bathing. Bath-houses form a back- 
 ground, and what with the old women in chairs 
 being drawn along the beach one might well 
 imagine herself the "gentle reader" in one of 
 Dickens's tales, as this unconscious procession of 
 humanity drifts by. 
 
 Dinner hour being near, we take the advice 
 given us at the station by the only omnibus-driver 
 there, to go to the " Devonshire Arms." Woe is 
 me, that we did ! Kindness was no name for the 
 hostess, and the hotel had a fine and prominent 
 situation in the principal square, surrounded by 
 curious old houses ; but hostesses and houses 
 did not make honors easy in this case, for the beds 
 were most unsatisfactory, and the entire place 
 one to be avoided. Suffice to say, after dinner, 
 such as it was, we went out for a stroll, and dis- 
 covered in the main avenue the " Green Park 
 Hotel," as neat as a pin, charmingly situated 
 upon a bluff overlooking the sea. About the 
 park from which it gets its name runs a high
 
 52 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 sea-wall, massive in construction, about which 
 one may walk while obtaining views of sea and 
 river. 
 
 The sun was setting, and the harbor, made by 
 the Blackwater which empties here, was alive with 
 fishing-craft of various kinds. 
 
 Nearly a mile away, on the other side of the 
 harbor, we could see forninst us the County Water- 
 ford strand, and had it only been a little earlier, 
 would have ferried over, just for fun, to see how 
 it seemed to ride that distance for a ha'penny, 
 this being the fare we were told by some boys at 
 play on the wall. From here we go down on to 
 the strand and gather sea-weeds, shells and what 
 not. The incoming tide is sweet with sea-odors, 
 and there is a fascination about a new moon that 
 should put a spirit of romance in any one. 
 
 Our homeward (home-ward is good ! If you 
 could only have seen the Devilshire Arms, as we 
 nicknamed it) way was up the main avenue, which 
 wanders in a most original manner through the 
 town for about one mile. As far as our square 
 it was kept in order by rows of the grandest elms 
 imaginable. These ceasing, the square is entered 
 by a jog in the road. It is alive with people, and 
 many women, with oriental-looking jugs on their 
 heads, are standing about the town-pump to await 
 their turn.
 
 SIGHTS IN IRELAND. 53 
 
 Further than our hotel we were too done-up to 
 investigate, and nothing but tired brains and 
 weary bodies ever enabled us to forget we were 
 not on beds of flowery ease the livelong night. 
 
 To-day we have had a great treat in more ways 
 than one. In the morning we went on to inves- 
 tigate the street of Youghal, and, after many 
 questions, found following our noses the best plan. 
 This brought us to the Clock Tower, a quaint, 
 four-storied brick period in the street, surmounted 
 by a cupola. So we went under it and came to 
 a ruined tower which- attracted our attention by 
 its massive front. This is used as a flour-mill, 
 and as we ask permission to climb an unused pair 
 of stairs, half covered with chaff and other refuse, 
 the miller smiles and says: "Yez air the furst 
 payple that iver went up thim stips since I had 
 the mill, I can tell yez. Indade yez may do so, 
 for the view will repay yez." And indeed it did. 
 From it we got our bearings, and by his help, for 
 he had followed us, his face aglow with curiosity 
 and good nature, we saw from one side, first the 
 sea, then the harbor, and then the Blackwater, 
 a river we were to explore on the morrow, the 
 "Rhine of Ireland," he told us. Crossing to the 
 north and west sides of the tower, the town, with 
 a garrisoned hill behind it and here and there 
 bits of the ancient wall, lay bathed in the glow of
 
 54 slS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 the sun. At its feet was the ancient church, 
 amid grand old trees, and quite close to it 
 Raleigh's house, Myrtle Grove. Tuppence ha'- 
 penny (five cents) more than satisfied our floury 
 friend, and even without it, we felt we were 
 enough of an oddity to have afforded him genuine 
 amusement. 
 
 The streets one of them, Friar street, for- 
 merly called " Hell " were full of excursionists 
 from Cork, and I wondered at the poor display 
 made by the shops. There was actually nothing 
 to tempt one excepting Pears's soap, advertised 
 for four pence ha'penny, when it always sells 
 for sixpence. 
 
 We gazed long and furtively at an Irishman 
 in a shop, as we stood before its windows filled 
 with pipes and tobacco. He was a picture, as he 
 sat on ft barrel swinging his legs, which were 
 encased in the tightest of tight linen trousers. 
 His vest was red, his coat drab, and on his head 
 was a hat the diameter of an ordinary stove-pipe, 
 brimless by nature and black in color. In his idle 
 hands he swung a "broth of a sthick," while a 
 pipe occupied his mouth. Whence he came, or 
 whither he tended, we shall never know ; but 
 he was an ideal reprsentative of the " Paddy from 
 Ireland, Paddy from Cork " of the song of our 
 childhood.
 
 SIGHTS IN IRELAND. 55 
 
 The street was full of genre pictures, and we 
 snapped our memory's camera at them, in the 
 hope of retaining some for future use. 
 
 At last the ancient Church of St. Mary's was 
 reached. Here the sexton's wife went about with 
 us, giving an intelligent account of the Soo-year- 
 old pulpit and font, showing where the Irish oak 
 roof had been discovered amid a mass of Reforma- 
 tion plaster and whitewash. She let us take our 
 time among the antique tombs, and their nearly 
 obliterated inscriptions she patiently aided us to 
 decipher, when we manifested real interest. In 
 the town we had inquired, but in vain, for a 
 guide-book, and hence we fully appreciated Mrs. 
 Hayes's intelligence. 
 
 The church forms a Latin cross, and in the 
 angle of the north aisle and north transept was 
 built a massive square tower at least fifty feet high. 
 She told us the bases of the arches rested on the 
 stone coffin-lids of some eighth century inhabitants 
 of that part of the country, and that the pointed 
 style of its architecture placed the building of 
 the present edifice in the thirteenth century. The 
 choir contains the largest window in Ireland, filled 
 with modern and yet most beautiful stained glass, 
 representing the coats-of-arms of its ancient 
 patrons, among them, on a red shield, the five 
 white diamonds of the house of Raleigh. This
 
 56 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 stood roofless for three hundred years, being only 
 restored some thirty odd years ago, and I honored 
 the people who appreciated so rare and interesting 
 a piece of architecture, enough to make it again a 
 place of worship. 
 
 In a side chapel were many old tombs, among 
 them that of Sir Edward Villiers, Lord President 
 of Munster for many years. It was dated, " Anno 
 Dom. 1600," and upon its face was the following : 
 
 Munster may curse (quite defaced) 
 The time that Villiers came 
 To make us worse, 
 By leavinge (sic) such a name. 
 Of noble parts 
 As none can imitate 
 But those whose hearts (sic) 
 Are married to the state. 
 But if they presse (sic) 
 To imitate his fame, 
 Munster may blesse (sic) 
 The time that Villiers came." 
 
 Opposite this plain sarcophagus was the gaudily 
 painted and amusing tomb of the first Earl of 
 Cork. It reaches from floor to ceiling. In the 
 center is the Earl, and on either side his first and 
 second wives. Beneath them are ten little off- 
 springs, all kneeling with folded hands, excepting 
 one, which lies down, because he fell into a well 
 and was drowned. Above the two wives are the
 
 SIGHTS IN IRELAND. 57 
 
 two mothers-in-law husbands of to-day take 
 notice and above them are kneeling angels, and 
 still higher, as the monument gets nearer heaven, 
 cherubs ! Any one who desires a detailed account 
 of this most extraordinary relic of antiquity, can 
 have it from me upon application. 
 
 This church by right holds the bones of the 
 long-lived Countess of Desmond, who must have 
 been a character in her day. She, with her husband, 
 helped materially in reconstructing the church, in 
 1468, with money from an indulgence granted by 
 Pope Paul II., and, after living for one hundred 
 and forty years, through the reigns of seven 
 English kings and queens, she fell from a cherry- 
 tree and broke her neck. Moral : never climb 
 rees, especially after you become a century plant. 
 
 This visit puts us in the humor to enjoy the 
 sight we are promised on the morrow of some of 
 the ruins of these grand people's former homes. 
 Just at present we are anticipating much pleasure 
 from a visit to Sir Walter's house. So, bidding 
 Mrs. Hayes a substantial good-bye at the church- 
 yard gate, where she lives in the lodge, we are at 
 once in front of the high green gate which com- 
 pletely hides the house from our gaze. A red- 
 cheeked milkmaid raps in vain, and finally tells us 
 it is doubtful if we get admission, as a party of 
 tourists from Cork the day before had not only
 
 58 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 picked flowers in the garden, but actually uprooted 
 the bushes. This caused us to strengthen our 
 resolve to get in, and just here a neat maid 
 opened the gate. To our demand for entrance, 
 she said she was sure the family who lived there 
 would not allow it. But the milky way of our 
 companion had enabled us to get within the gate, 
 and we told her to say we were Americans and 
 had come a great distance to see the house. 
 
 As she neared the front door an elderly lady 
 leaning on a cane came out, and without wait- 
 ing for the maid to intercede I stepped forward 
 and pleaded my case. She had been joined by 
 her daughter, and at once they gave us a most 
 charming and cordial welcome, explaining that the 
 place had always kept open doors and gates to 
 all visitors until that day. When we saw the signs 
 of the visiting vandals, we were glad they had 
 been Irish people and not Americans. 
 
 We were taken up the grand old stairs, whose 
 walls were lined with rare prints and paintings of 
 Sir Walter or scenes from his career, such as his 
 grand Elizabethan cloak act and his being show- 
 ered by his servant when he smoked his first pipe 
 on his return from America. W T e also learned our 
 hostesses were the mother and sister of Sir John. 
 Pope-Hennessy,* the present owner of the mansion. 
 
 * Sir John Pope-Hennessy has just been nominated as member of 
 Parliament by the McCarthy faction as representative from Kilkenny.
 
 SIGHTS IN IRELAND. 59 
 
 The library in which Sir Walter wrote invited 
 our attention, especially as we knew Spenser had 
 visited him here, and no doubt written some of 
 his " Faerie Queen " within these very walls. 
 
 The ceiling and walls are of dark Irish oak 
 cleverly carved and paneled. The cabinets, con- 
 taining rare old books, and the mantel-pieces had 
 over them mottoes in ancient spelling and figures 
 of Faith, Hope and Charity. The small-paned 
 bow-windows, which, with the exception of one 
 other window, lighted the room, made a study 
 for an artist. 
 
 The outside of the house, strange to say, 
 resembles in form and style of pointed windows 
 the home he came from in Devonshire. Yet he 
 bought it, as is supposed, from the monks, who 
 once inhabited it, and perhaps the attraction was 
 its resemblance to his former dwelling. In the 
 rear of the house, which is long and shallow, rise 
 three huge chimneys covered with ivy, which in 
 this part of the world does its best to hide the 
 defects of time and ravages of humanity. With 
 a cordial invitation to come again, we at last bade 
 adieu to the two gentlewomen who had kindly 
 entertained us, they telling us the name of Carew 
 had proven an open sesame. 
 
 To the town we descend by a queer and 
 rambling by-path which should really be called
 
 60 A S WE SA W IT IN '9G. 
 
 a street. Its houses were a study, with their 
 round and painted chiseled doorways, moulded 
 corbels and mullions, heraldic badges, friezes, 
 drip-stones, trefoiled windows, and other vestiges 
 that exist in abundance to prove the antiquity of 
 Youghal. 
 
 After all this it is wonderful that we can again 
 lie down to peaceful slumbers. Yet such is the 
 case, and it seems but a short time, until the 
 next morning we find ourselves on the steamer 
 that is to take us up the river to Cappoquin. 
 
 We buy third-class tickets, and this enables 
 us to be in the forward part of the craft and 
 throws us into companionship with a very agree- 
 able Irish lady who has a guide-book. 
 
 I ask her where she bought it, and she replies, 
 " I have had it some time, and I think it is out 
 of print, but if you will accept it I shall be 
 pleased, as I know the river by heart." This 
 unexpected piece of luck enabled us to enjoy the 
 ruins which nestle on either hand, and just enough 
 excitement was created by a brisk shower, which 
 only sprinkled but did not injure us, to make 
 the trip exhilarating. 
 
 A Welsh gentlemen became interested in us, 
 when he saw the shower did not drive us below, 
 and we were able, during a conversation which 
 followed, to convince him that American gentle-
 
 SIGHTS IN IRELAND. 61 
 
 men did not go about their daily vocations armed 
 with either a shot-gun or a brace of pistols, as 
 he averred they did. Being interested in tin 
 mines, he bemoaned the tax he feared might, in 
 course of time, be put on such ware, and he 
 added rather emphatically : " If that tax does 
 come, we'll go over to America and make it 
 there ! " I advised him to do so by all means, 
 saying we liked nothing better than a man who 
 could add to the income of our country, rather 
 than one who became dependent upon it. 
 
 As we near Cappoquin the river is more pic- 
 turesque. Before us is Mount Melleray, to which 
 we will pay a visit as soon as we land. On either 
 side we have the counties of Cork and Kerry, 
 and beneath us as romantic a stream as ever 
 flowed into the sea. Spenser calls it in his " Faerie 
 Queen " : 
 
 "Swift Awniduff, which of the English man 
 Is calde Blacke-water." 
 
 He knew every inch of it, and its romances 
 furnished him many of the ideas expressed in 
 his wonderful and unmatched poem. We confess 
 we have been impressed by its legends, and yet 
 how very dead and turned to clay are the once 
 powerful families that enlivened its banks. At 
 Cappoquin it is no further navigable by steamer, 
 so we leave our craft, and after arranging to
 
 62 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 have our luggage sent to the station, we take a 
 jaunting-car. We only had our choice of two, 
 and are soon on our way, up, up, up over hill 
 and dale to the Abbey of Mount Melleray. Here 
 dwell a community of Cistercian Monks driven 
 from France in the Revolution of 1830. We are 
 told they maintain perpetual silence, and are sur- 
 prised to be met by a chatty monk at the door 
 who ushers us into the drawing-room. He then 
 informs us "it is, being Friday, a fast day, and 
 that we must not expect more than fish, omelet, 
 bread, jams, tea, sherry, port or stout for our 
 luncheon." We answer, "We will try to make a 
 meal out of this," as he proceeds to give us 
 glimpses into the corridors belonging to the 
 monks. Then he takes us to a church, where a 
 service is being chanted, and leaving us up in the 
 gallery which overlooks the garden, but from 
 which we could not see the monks, he takes my 
 brother and the Welshman in among the brethren. 
 There he kept them till after dinner, the women 
 visitors dining in a separate room, and when they 
 met us again, after an hour, I never saw two more 
 relieved-looking men. 
 
 Our dinner was an amusing one. Brother Law- 
 rence, assisted by the driver who brought us up, 
 set the dishes on the table. Not a sign of a 
 woman servant was there. Then, as he paused,
 
 SIGHTS IN IRELAND. 63 
 
 one of our party at the head of the table, said : 
 "Will you ask a blessing?" "No, please do it 
 yourself," he replied. We bowed our heads as 
 she said : "Oh, Lord, bless this food to our use, 
 and us to Thy service, for Christ's sake, Amen." 
 Scarcely was she through, when he clasped his 
 hands enthusiastically and said: "Beautiful ! beau- 
 tiful ! we say quite the same," and hastily repeated 
 one in Latin. This made quite an impression 
 on him, as well as on the Irish women at the 
 table with us. 
 
 Our forks were horn-handled and three-lined 
 of steel, but the wine was of the very best quality, 
 and he offered it freely. 
 
 Afterwards, during a walk in part of the grounds 
 where we were allowed, I asked him about their 
 silence, and he said that when put on duty, as he 
 was at present, they were commanded to speak. 
 We passed two monks, big, fine-looking men, and 
 he said they were the librarian and music master. 
 Two forlorn-looking objects, with gowns rolled 
 up, were driving pigs down a lane before us. 
 
 " Why are those monks driving pigs ? " I asked. 
 
 " For penance," he answered. 
 
 " Does your highest brother ever drive pigs, 
 as those are doing ? " I asked. 
 
 " Of course not," he replied, rather scornfully. 
 
 t% Would it not be a good penance ? " I continued.
 
 64 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 "Ah ! there are other penances they can get more 
 suited to their birth and breeding," he replied. 
 
 He was clever and jolly, and seemed quite of 
 this world, with his beard, moustache, and unton- 
 sured head. He took whatever we chose to give 
 him for dinner, and before I left presented me 
 with a huge bouquet, picked from their cemetery, 
 of the most antagonistic flowers that grow, begin- 
 ning with tiger-lilies and ending with the pansy, 
 as a souvenir of the place. 
 
 The school has hundreds of pupils from all 
 parts of the world, for which they charge the 
 modest sum of about two hundred and fifty dol- 
 lars a year. School had closed the day previous, 
 and the theater, where a farce had been enacted, 
 was shown us, the scenery of which had been 
 painted by one of the students. Altogether, I 
 should imagine it would be as safe a place to 
 put a boy of the Roman Catholic faith as could be 
 imagined, and we shall always have pleasant and 
 amusing memories of our visit at Mount Melleray. 
 
 From its height we went again into Cappoquin, 
 and then, by advice of our driver, we arranged for 
 our luggage to go by train, in order that we might 
 drive to Lismore, three miles distant. Had I been 
 able to get the least information upon the possi- 
 bility of going from Cappoquin to Mallow by rail, 
 I should have left our luggage at Mallow on our
 
 SIGHTS IN IRELAND. 65 
 
 way to Youghal from Cork. This is a hint for any 
 one in future who may wish to make the trip with 
 hand-bags, as we desired to do. 
 
 The drive to Lismore was all our Jehu had said 
 it would be. With grand estates on one side and 
 the Blackwater on the other, we were all too soon 
 at the bridge over the stream, above which tow- 
 ered the Castle of Lismore, one of the Duke of 
 Devonshire's many residences. Its entrance and 
 court reminded us of Warwick, so perfectly is it 
 preserved and kept in order, and we obtained 
 permission to enter by application at the keeper's 
 lodge. He was an Englishman, and as we waited 
 for admission, I asked : 
 
 " Does the Duke ever come here ? " 
 
 " No, me leddy, 'e's a bit groggy in 'is legs, 
 and caun't get habout much, you see." 
 
 "Who will inherit this when the Duke dies ? " 
 
 " Lord 'Arlington, but 'e don't take much hin- 
 terest in hit ; 'e's a single man, you see, me leddy." 
 
 "Oh, is he?" I explained, as I saw the house- 
 keeper coming towards us through the brass peep- 
 hole on the big front door. " A single lord is just 
 what I am looking for. So I think I'll give the 
 castle a thorough investigation while here." 
 
 "You are so droll, me leddy," he articulated, 
 during a half laugh. " Hi'm sure you're not 
 Hinglish, you know."
 
 66 A S WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 "No, I am not," I replied, most emphatically, 
 " I am an American species of the genus angel." 
 
 The round of the castle was quite like that of 
 any other, except that from the bay-window we 
 saw an Irish funeral procession crossing the bridge. 
 This window nearly made one of the English kings 
 of old famous, viz.: in looking down from its dizzy 
 height into the swift stream below, he almost, but 
 not quite, fell out. 
 
 Can you fancy a funeral procession of jaunt- 
 ing-cars ? They couldn't look sad ; and so, but 
 for the hearse which preceded, we should have 
 thought it a wedding jaunt. 
 
 The antique corporation sword which belongs 
 in the empty case on the walls of the old church 
 in Youghal is here ; also a bishop's crosier, dug 
 up in the " year one," for all I can remember, 
 which our attendant said was "very rare." 
 
 In the street, on our way to the station, we asked 
 whose funeral procession had just gone by. 
 
 " Some unmarried person, I expect," was the 
 reply. 
 
 " How do you know ? " is the natural inquiry. 
 
 " Why, didn't yez see the white streamers on the 
 driver's hat and over his coat ? Well, that's a sign 
 the corpse was single." 
 
 We took a bird's-eye view of Lismore town on 
 our way to the station. This took us through its
 
 SIGHTS IN IRELAND. 67 
 
 square, containing a curious sun-dial and fountain, 
 and past an old church, whose graveyard con- 
 tained some rare old tombs with curious epitaphs. 
 The station was a pretty one, and, after a short 
 wait, we were whirled off to Mallow. 
 
 This proved to be a forgotten watering-place. 
 The old spring bubbles three hundred gallons per 
 hour of just as drinkable water as when it was 
 fashionable, but the drinkers, where were they ? 
 The care-taker, a forlorn woman of asthmatic 
 build, tottered down to the well's mouth with us, 
 and over its bubbling contents registered a vow, 
 how that but for drinking a gallon of it during 
 every night she long ago would have been dead. 
 I drank upon her recommendation and was con- 
 vinced that at least it was cold and delicious. 
 
 As we drove back to the hotel in a jaunting- 
 car, whose owner was the personification of jollity, 
 Lysaght's old rhyme jogged naturally through our 
 heads : 
 
 " Beauing, belleing, dancing, arinking, 
 Breaking windows, damning, sinking, 
 Ever raking, never thinking, 
 Live the Rakes of Mallow " 
 
 or, rather, " Died the Rakes of Mallow," as we 
 interpolated. 
 
 Marsh mallows are good, but Mallow sans 
 marsh, even with a well, I should never advise
 
 68 AS WE SA IV IT IN '90. 
 
 to any one who has a sharp appetite. The only 
 hotel by the station is kept by a very polite and 
 meek-looking man, but these qualities are of no 
 value when one has a lady cook and gentleman 
 butler. The latter was evidently disgusted because 
 we did not partake of his table d'hote dinner, and, 
 when we asked for toast for four, brought three 
 pieces very small and very thick. When, like 
 Oliver, we asked for more, he, with a flourish and 
 by the aid of a toast-rack the Evil One's inven- 
 tion to cool toast brought two pieces more. After 
 consultation we begged to trouble him for more, 
 and after some delay, and more toast-rack accom- 
 paniment, he dignifiedly sauntered in with two 
 more quarterings of partially heated bread. This 
 made only seven small pieces for four hungry peo- 
 ple. After we had all urged each the other to 
 take the toast, one of us troubled his majesty 
 again. By this time he looked really grieved and, 
 with a most insufferable air, said : " She says there 
 is no more." This was too much for me. I rose- 
 to the occasion and proceeded to the office. 
 Result, plenty of toast, which we sit and eat, 
 although we are almost too full of laughter by 
 this time to enjoy it. 
 
 When I came into the coffee-room in the even- 
 ing to write, his lordship at once brought me a 
 blotter, ink and a quill, which I have duly used.
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 NEW TlPPERARY. 
 
 A Visit to the Settlement of the Evicted Tenants Occupying 
 O'Srien's Old Room The Pottery Btisiness at Belleek A 
 Sailor Guide through Derry's Streets. 
 
 PORTRUSH, IRELAND, July 3, 1890. 
 
 TO-MORROW I am to pay my respects to Fin 
 MacCoul at his residence, down at the Causeway 
 he has never completed, and before committing 
 that act I desire to chronicle some of the events 
 of my last week in Ireland, which, in more ways 
 than one, has been a great delight. 
 
 In my last letter I left you at Mallow, whence I 
 made a pilgrimage to Kilcolman Castle, or all that 
 remains of it, in order to become better acquainted 
 with Edmund Spenser. To accomplish this we 
 had to go by rail to Buttevant, and there take a 
 jaunting-car. The ride of three miles is an enjoy- 
 able one, but the detour will not pay the average 
 tourist. In fact, most people would never know 
 the place existed, since from the time I landed at 
 Queenstown until I reached Mallow, I was unable
 
 70 AS WE SA W IT IN '90. 
 
 to get the least information regarding it, or the 
 manner of getting there. Neither do the guide- 
 books mention it. However, before leaving New 
 York, I had spent an afternoon in the Astor 
 Library, and from different lives of Raleigh and 
 Spenser had found Youghal and Kilcolman were 
 sacred to them. Hence my determination was 
 strengthened to see both. 
 
 Alas, the very country which nurtured and 
 inspired that unique poet, seems to have forgotten 
 him ! Of his castle, granted him by Elizabeth, 
 but one tower remains. Its grounds are a pasture 
 for cows and sheep, and its lake, whose praises he 
 sang, and upon which he loved to gaze at sunset 
 with his mainspring, Raleigh, is but a marsh. 
 
 The next scene in our day's pilgrimage was laid 
 in Tipperary. Leaving the cars at Limerick Junc- 
 tion we were driven thither. As we jolted over 
 the stony road, I was filled with thankfulness for 
 natural teeth, otherwise I should never have dared 
 open my mouth for the following interview with 
 the driver : 
 
 " Are you a Land Leaguer ? " 
 
 " I am." (Pronounced yam !) 
 
 " Is it perfectly safe for us to drive about the 
 town ? " 
 
 " It is, wid me, sure. Mebbe yez didn't hear av 
 the man who was shot yisterday ? "
 
 NEW TIPPERARY. 71 
 
 " Shot ! " in chorus by our quartette. 
 
 "Yis, shot dead ! " 
 
 " Why ? " from us. 
 
 " Because he was suspicted." 
 
 " Do you think we will be suspicted ? " 
 
 " No, mum, not whin yer wid me, didn't I tell 
 yez." 
 
 As we approached the New Town he explained 
 confidentially that the evicted tenants were to be 
 its inhabitants. 
 
 "What are evicted tenants?" I asked. 
 
 " Thim's the payple Smith-Barry has tried to 
 force to pay ground rints." 
 
 "Were their shops and houses on his ground ? " 
 
 "They were." 
 
 " Why should they not pay him, then ? " 
 
 " Because the league tould them he charged 
 too much." 
 
 Here we drive in upon the New Town of Tip- 
 perary. It is built quite outside of the Old Town, 
 upon a piece of useless land, which up to date 
 has been a common. The twenty-six new houses 
 are two stories high, some of brick and more of 
 wood, and face a square, one side of which is 
 occupied by an arcade. This building has a town- 
 clock, and on either side of the passage extending 
 through it are the shops of the evicted. 
 
 We got down here and went into the arcade.
 
 72 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 Out of the thirteen shops on either side, every 
 other one, at least, was for the sale of liquor or 
 cigars. Over the first waved a white banner upon 
 which, in red letters, we read : " Every demon 
 runs its course." This referred to Smith-Barry, 
 and not to the demon of drink, of course. From 
 the neighboring cloth-shop the proprietor stepped 
 out to solicit our patronage. Over it was the 
 motto : " There is no joy without affliction." 
 He seemed a very decent man, and I gave him 
 the chance I saw he wished to tell his story. To 
 my inquiry, as to why he was there, he replied : 
 
 " Yis, I was evicted ; that is I wint out." 
 
 " Had you built your own shop ! " 
 
 " Yis, it cost me six hundred pounds " ($3,000). 
 
 "What was your ground rent ? " 
 
 " Well, it was not for the mather of that, ye 
 see, but becase I owed six shillings ($1.50) on me 
 ground rint, that I was bound not to pay till Smith- 
 Barry rejuced it." 
 
 " Are. you a member of the league ? " 
 
 "I am." 
 
 " Do you think it was wise to lose a shop valued 
 at six hundred pounds for six shillings ?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Becase if I had not done as the others did, 
 I would have been bycotted ! "
 
 NEW TIPPERARY. 73 
 
 " What does that mean ? " I demurely ask. 
 
 " Cut by every mimber of the leygue, and 
 perhaps I would not be allowed to sill goods at 
 all, at all." 
 
 " And what would have happened if there were 
 enough people who chose to buy of you who were 
 non-leaguers ? " 
 
 " Both thim and meself would be bycotted 
 by the leygue, and it's very uncomfortable not to 
 be spoken to or associated wid by your friends. 
 Thin, too, if I failed in this course and went to 
 the league and asked to be taken in again, they 
 wouldn't take me back." 
 
 As we come out to get into our car, a ragged 
 woman invites me to give her something in ex- 
 change for shoe-strings or paper ballads with 
 which she makes a flourish. Taking a penny 
 ballad, for which she blesses me as she grabs the 
 two cents charged for it, I say, "I only take this 
 of you because you have it to sell, not because I 
 want it." 
 
 Here a dirty fellow, whose feet don't seem to 
 be mates, so badly does he shamble, lounges 
 up and says, " Gimme a penny." 
 
 "What for, your laziness or impertinence?" I 
 ask. With a growl he curses me and moves off. 
 
 The Old Town is much larger than I supposed 
 it was. And, with a flourish, Paddy drives us up
 
 74 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 and down the streets which, with their closed and 
 boarded shops, are as solemn and deserted as 
 Pompeii. Upon them were huge placards read- 
 ing, " Evicted. On the cause must go." Many 
 of the windows in the buildings were smashed, 
 and some showed signs of having been set 
 on fire. One had an extra sign which said, 
 " Mrs. Cotter has closed out her premises and 
 resumed business in New Town." The shops 
 that were sandwiched in among the evicted 
 ones looked very uncomfortable and lonely. 
 Paddy explained that they were not on Smith- 
 Barry's land, as his tenants alone were evicted. 
 He also showed us a boycotted shop whose owner 
 was not a Land Leaguer, and, had time allowed, I 
 think we would have bought something of the 
 clean but weary-looking woman who stood in the 
 front door. 
 
 On our way back to Limerick Junction, I asked 
 the driver who owned the common on which the 
 New Town was going up. 
 
 " Stafford O'Brien, sure." 
 
 " Is he a Land Leaguer ? " 
 
 " He is that." 
 
 " Are the people to have the new houses and 
 shops free of rent?" 
 
 " They are, until they are able to pay fur them. 
 So I have been tould."
 
 NEW TIPPERARY. 75 
 
 " And what if they consider the new price too 
 high ? " 
 
 " Arragh, then I suppose they will build a new 
 New Tipperary." 
 
 In Dublin the first tram-car we employed had a 
 most remarkable blue ticket. For a penny we 
 get the following : On one side, the streets it 
 traversed and its destination ; on the other, " Dub- 
 lin Street Tramway, 103. Would you know the 
 value of money ? Go and borrow some," followed 
 by the picture of a shoe and the name of the 
 maker. Beneath this was, " Calamity is man's 
 true touchstone." This motto, which many might 
 not read, since as soon as punched and given you, 
 it seems to be the fashion to throw the ticket on 
 the car floor, caught my eye, and, with my mind 
 filled with the scenes of Southern Ireland's pov- 
 erty and old Tipperary's woe, I wondered what 
 would be the outcome of such calamity as seems 
 widespread at present in as beautiful a country as 
 was ever created. 
 
 Fate was my close companion, for at the hospi- 
 table Imperial Hotel I was given a very quiet 
 room, by request, as we were to be there for Sun- 
 day. When the housekeeper ushered me in, she 
 said : 
 
 "I hope you'll be comfortable, Miss; Mr. Wil- 
 liam O'Brien, M. P., always had this room before
 
 76 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 he was married and was here for a night only 
 yesterday." 
 
 Newspapers, from which items had been clipped, 
 were on the large-writing table, and an easy chair 
 stood near it. I threw myself into its depths and 
 sincerely wished for the power to read men's 
 minds. Then would I know the innermost thoughts 
 of this idol of the Land League, by whose best 
 adherents he is considered the soul of honesty. 
 He certainly is the Paul of their faith, for he has 
 suffered imprisonment and many hardships and 
 trials. 
 
 The papers were full of the trial I attended at 
 Bantry, and editorial comments differed according 
 to the politics of the journal one read. Father 
 Crowley had the choice between a fine and six 
 months' imprisonment, and chose the latter. 
 
 I wish for you no better luck than to go to the 
 Imperial in Dublin. The women guests are under 
 the especial surveillance of one Richard Heather- 
 stone, who is perfect in his department. After a suc- 
 cession of meals, of which you had partaken merely 
 to keep life in your body, fancy the delight of 
 sitting down unexpectedly to a daintily-laid table, 
 just for four ! As the covers are lifted there is a 
 tenderloin of beef for each, and fried potatoes, 
 without even asking for them, because you have 
 been refused everywhere else. Then comes an
 
 NEW TIPPERARY. 
 
 underwaiter, with tinkling cymbals in the shape of 
 glasses of water with ice, chiming a merry tune to 
 his tread. We look about for the good fairy, 
 and find him in Heatherstone, who has been stand- 
 ing at a distance to enjoy our exclamations of 
 unsuppressed glee. 
 
 In this hotel is the largest round table I ever 
 saw. It is formed of four pieces of polished 
 mahogany, joined in the center, and is enough to 
 awaken envy in the breast of the wraith of King 
 Arthur. Upon it I found a guide-book to the 
 United States, edited by Bradshaw in 1886. It 
 gave the population of Buffalo as 156,000, and 
 said tramways ran through the public streets (five 
 cents). This price must amuse people over here, 
 for in this country or England one can go almost 
 any distance for one penny (two cents). It went 
 on to say the places of amusement were St. James 
 Hall and Music Hall. Under the head of bankers 
 it gave the First National (long defunct), and it 
 said that Buffalo's best physicians were Doctors 
 Graves and Bevan. (?) It also advised a drive to 
 Fort Porter, whose ruins (razed some years since) 
 enable one to get fine views of the river. 
 
 Of course we did Dublin, and found much to 
 interest us. About Phoenix Park we had an intel- 
 ligent driver who knew personally all the men con- 
 victed of the murder of Lord Frederick Cavendish.
 
 78 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 He told us he received fifteen shillings a week for 
 his yoke (the car he drove) from the owner, and 
 through the kindness of passengers he was mostly 
 able to make it come up to one pound sterling, 
 Out of this five dollars he kept a wife and three 
 children. Their home-grown meat was very dear, 
 he told us, seven pence, or fourteen cents, a pound 
 for the poorest cuts, while round cost one shilling 
 (twenty-five cents) a pound, and tenderloin thirty- 
 three cents of our money. For our American meat 
 he paid much less, and vastly preferred its flavor. 
 
 Sunday morning we attended service in the old- 
 est church in Dublin, St. Audoeons. I carried a 
 letter of introduction to its venerable canon and 
 curate, and after service met both. They gave us 
 a most cordial greeting. The curate went out into 
 the ruins of the cathedral, part of whose nave is 
 now roofed and in use, and, having made it a 
 study, he was able to give us a most interesting 
 word sketch as well as a written account of its 
 history. 
 
 During excavations some years since it was 
 discovered that walls had been built over beau- 
 tiful frescoes, one of which in an arch was prob- 
 ably the patron saint of a side altar. High above 
 it in the outside wall had been uncovered small, 
 slanting windows which, it is supposed, were 
 used by lepers or persons with foul disease, who
 
 NEW TIPPERARY. 79 
 
 inhabited a hospital built against the cathedral, 
 to enable them to see into the cathedral during 
 service. 
 
 The congregation we worshipped among was 
 small but devout, and our four silver pieces stood 
 out among the coppers in the collection plate, 
 which was in the vestry after service. Of course 
 they have a rare old Queen Anne communion ser- 
 vice. I was thankful for the thought of the Irish- 
 American friend, who formerly belonged to this 
 parish, and whose many hints helped me to see 
 Dublin so comfortably. 
 
 On Sunday the streets were gay with the many 
 soldiers in uniform, parading idly up and down, 
 and on Monday, which chanced to be a field-day, 
 we saw a sham battle in the park. 
 
 Dublin shops are enticing, and one, to catch 
 American trade, hoists an American flag. Excess of 
 tournure is all the rage here, and the latest fad is 
 a beauty-spot veil, only a bit of thin, black net, 
 with one spot of black chenile to come against 
 the left cheek. 
 
 Before departing I bought round-trip tickets to 
 Belfast, via Enniskillen, Portrush, and the Antrim 
 coast, of the great agent Cook, because every one 
 assured me they were cheaper. I took the precau- 
 tion to ask the price qf tickets from point to point, 
 and found it saved me barely twenty-five cents, 
 if that.
 
 8o AS IV E SAW 77' IN '90. 
 
 The cost of riding on a rail in Ireland is a 
 luxury. For third-class cars we pay at the rate of 
 two cents a mile, and for first-class four cents. If 
 they tarred and feathered us, I can't imagine what 
 the bill would amount to. 
 
 Disaffected members of the community give us 
 freely public hints with regard to the state of 
 their minds, by writing on the grained wooden 
 backs of the car seats such sentiments as these : 
 " Home Rule and more rum ! " " Down with the 
 Pope, up with the jug ! " 
 
 At a small station on our way to Enniskillen two 
 young men got into our car. One was sober, the 
 other drunk. They were going to Derry to sail 
 for America, as was evident from the crowd at the 
 station of men, women and children. The poor 
 old father called out : " Be a good by, Teddy, and 
 write your mither." "That's sail right," mumbled 
 Teddy. As the train moved out of the station 
 such a howl went up from the assembled multitude 
 as I never wish to hear again. The women cov- 
 ered their faces with aprons and shawls, and the 
 men's tears were allowed free play down their 
 browned cheeks, as they strained their eyes to 
 catch a last glance of the poor boy. He staggered 
 to the car door, and taking off his round black hat, 
 waved it at them until he dropped it, as I felt sure 
 he would. He then called out : " Kape it for me
 
 NEW TIPPERARY. 81 
 
 sake. Good-bye ! 'Rah for Prisident Harrison, to 
 h 1 with Queen Victoria and aller subjecs ! " 
 and with this supreme effort he sat down hatless. 
 
 It was a pitiful sight, and his companion's 
 "Teddy, lad, be quiet," seemed to bring him to his 
 senses, for he began to apologize to the car, and to 
 fumble in a carpet-bag for a woolen cap, after 
 donning which he went to sleep. 
 
 Enniskillen ! This place we rather regretted 
 reaching, as we had met in our car two charming 
 Irish ladies, wives of army officers, who were re- 
 turning from a day at Rosstrevor on the eastern 
 coast of Ireland. But we were at the same time 
 full of anticipation, especially after they had told 
 us of beautiful Lough Erne, upon which it is 
 placed, and of all there was of interest to see. 
 The Royal Hotel, kept by two pretty Irish women 
 who are cousins, made us very comfortable, and 
 the following morning we were rowed to Devinish 
 Island to see the most perfect of the seventy-three 
 remaining towers out of the original one hundred 
 and eighteen. It stands in strength and beauty 
 beside the ruins of a cathedral, through whose 
 crumbling arches rare views of lake and mountain 
 can be had. Sunshine and blue sky added to our 
 excursion, and as we leave fair Enniskillen, we 
 sigh for more time and money in order to linger 
 where we are most pleased.
 
 82 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 At Bundoran (pronounced Bundorn) we found 
 wretched hotels for a watering-place, and I con- 
 cluded lodgings would be preferable, if one were 
 to remain any length of time. After supper we 
 followed the tide on its outward course for three- 
 fourths of a mile over rocks and sea-weeds and 
 were able to go about points and into caverns that 
 were in the water when we arrived. Quite out at 
 sea, we climbed the highest rock within reach, and 
 watched the sun sink and full moon rise, at the 
 identical moment. Then between moonlight and 
 sunset-light we had a picture worth crossing the 
 ocean to see, and when by eleven o'clock we sought 
 our hotel it was still twilight. Until this day the 
 season had been so cold and rainy, the poor shop- 
 keepers told me that they had feared there would 
 be no season. 
 
 Early the next morning we were off for Belleek 
 in a jaunting-car, the day being fair, in order to 
 economize time. This drive enabled us to see 
 several villages better than we could from the 
 train, and in the doors of the huts we saw women, 
 busy with embroidery. They ran to us the mo- 
 ment we stopped, and one fine handkerchief, ele- 
 gantly embroidered with the trefoil, they would 
 sell for seven pence (or fourteen cents) to the 
 buyers, and to us " for one and six, not forty cents, 
 if \ve would be so kind as to give it." I had seen
 
 NEW TIPPERARY. 83 
 
 one almost like it in a shop for one dollar and fifty 
 cents, and in America the same would bring two 
 dollars, if not much more. 
 
 Our driver, a young man, inquired a great deal 
 about America, and told us he was paid nothing 
 by the hotel for his services. He received his bed 
 and grub from the proprietor, and outside of that 
 "took his chances" for fees from passengers. 
 
 The road was lively with cars full of people in 
 Sunday best attire going to a fair near by, " and 
 also much cattle." One old couple sat on the 
 front seat, while piggy occupied the rear. Here, 
 too, we saw very small donkeys, loaded with pan- 
 niers filled with vegetables, until they were almost 
 hidden, which women drove as well as men. 
 
 Our driver said : " The throuble over here now 
 is that our min are women and our women min. I 
 don't know what will be the result. See that gurrl 
 driving that kyar? Well, she can kyart or do the 
 loikes of that as well as anny man, and bether." 
 
 He also told us the difference between an in- 
 side and an outside car. An outside car has its 
 wheels on the inside, viz., beneath the seats, and 
 an inside car (a covered vehicle) has its wheels 
 on the outside. For his politeness and informa- 
 tion of course he got a fee, when he had safely 
 landed us at the only factory now in Belleek. 
 Here a man took us through the works, explaining
 
 84 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 every part of the process, from the pulverizing of 
 the flint in huge vats to the firing. The kilns are 
 immense affairs, and every two weeks- are heated 
 for a firing of forty-eight hours, which consumes 
 thirteen tons of coal. This first firing makes bis- 
 cuit-ware, after which it is enameled with a prep- 
 aration of flint, borax, white lead, magnesia, and 
 water, and fired twenty-four hours. 
 
 The burnishing is done with blood-stones by 
 women, who get $2.50 a week. The most inter- 
 esting part was watching the making of flowers 
 by an expert, who had worked at it since he was 
 a boy. I asked them what they thought of the 
 works we have for making the same ware in 
 Trenton, N. J., and the guide replied : ' " They 
 have injured us very much." 
 
 In the wareroom I saw a cup for $2.50 that our 
 American importers retail for $5.00 and $7.00, 
 because the Irish Belleek mark is upon it. What 
 a pity that the inventors of such an industry should 
 ever have allowed any nation upon earth to inter- 
 fere with its progress. With plenty of flint in its 
 mountains close at hand, and the sea ever ready 
 to give freely its shells, sea-weeds and corals for 
 imitation, the power to hold its own seems want- 
 ing, and so by degrees the secret with the expert 
 workmen has drifted off to a new country, where,
 
 NEW TIPPERARY. 85 
 
 after all, they only make Trenton and not Belleek 
 Belleek. 
 
 In Londonderry (Derry, as they call it here) 
 we were agreeably surprised. I had always sup- 
 posed it of necessity was the Irish Liverpool, but 
 I found its shipping quite removed from the town, 
 and old Derry proper almost as quaint as Chester, 
 with a broad walk on its wall entirely about the 
 city, and many very old gates, as well as monu- 
 ments and churches. At the nearest one to the 
 station I saw a seafaring style of man in a blue 
 coat, and as I asked my way on to the wall he 
 offered to show me. This he did so pleasantly 
 and intelligently that he stayed with us during 
 the entire round, and his sayings caused us many 
 a laugh. Of course I asked if he belonged to the 
 league, and he said : " I do, Miss." 
 
 "What do you think about the state of Ireland 
 now?'' was the next question. 
 
 "Well, to tell the truth, I've concluded there's 
 no use in living in Rome and fighting the Pope," 
 was his very sage answer. 
 
 A new guildhall was to be opened the next 
 week by the Duke of Abercorn, and he showed 
 this building with great pride. He also explained 
 why the Irish miles were so long more intelligently 
 than any one we had ever asked, saying : " You 
 see an Irish mile is a mile and a bittock, and a
 
 86 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 bittock is a mile. They first measured it with a 
 mad dog and a woolen string, the dog gave a 
 leap and the string stretched." 
 
 "Is Justin McCarthy, your M. P., liked?" I 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes, by some, and no, by others ; but his son 
 has been anything but a favorite. There are not 
 many men nowadays like Sir Robert Ferguson, 
 whose statue you see over there. He was a mem- 
 ber for twenty years. 'Bart.' is after his name, 
 I don't know what for." 
 
 " Baronet," I suggested, glad to tell him even so 
 small a thing in return for all his information. 
 
 "What do you think will help Ireland out of her 
 present trouble ? " I ask. 
 
 " Well, Miss, I'm thinking if the Lord would 
 put His mighty hand on it about in the middle 
 and that would be Tipperary and hold it down 
 under the sea for fifteen minutes, when He brought 
 it up again all the trouble would be remedied." 
 
 " Are you a Catholic ?" I asked next. 
 
 " I am ; and, strange to say, an old prophecy 
 has just come to pass, and I believe it augurs good 
 for Ireland's future." 
 
 " What is it ? " I asked eagerly. 
 
 "Well, 'When O'Donnell rules in Donegal, and 
 O'Dougherty in Derry, then Ireland shall be free.' 
 The new Bishop of Donegal is only twenty-five
 
 NEW TIPPERARY. 87 
 
 years old and named O'Donnell, and one O'Dough- 
 erty is now Bishop of Deny," he replied. 
 
 I inquired where the opera house or theater 
 was, and he said : " We don't have theaters or 
 singing halls here, because the people would never 
 make them pay. You see we are both busy and 
 old-fashioned in Deny." 
 
 When the round of the walls was made, he 
 showed us the post-office, where we got our first 
 home letters, and then left us at a penny tram, 
 which took us over to the Old Town and to our 
 station, and we all agreed that an indigenous guide 
 in a short time could tell one more than many 
 guide-books. 
 
 And so, as I said at the beginning of this letter, 
 if you never hear of me again, you will know I 
 have decided to remain at the Causeway.
 
 LETTER VI. 
 
 THE CAUSEWAY. 
 
 Caves and Other Belongings of Fin MacCoul Along the 
 Antrim Coast The White Horse Over the Doors that 
 Has Nothing to Do -with Red-haired Girls. 
 
 STRANRAER, SCOTLAND, July 7, 1890. 
 THAT seeing is believing I grant you, but read- 
 ing of or being told about a place does not mean a 
 correct idea regarding it. For instance, from 
 childhood I have been familiar with pictures of 
 the Giant's Causeway on Ireland's most northern 
 coast, as well as with descriptions of it. Imagine 
 my astonishment then in finding that this great 
 curiosity is only a small part of his demesne. 
 From Portrush to the Causeway the coast is bluff 
 and broken, and the only way thoroughly to enjoy 
 its glorious nooks and crannies is to walk the dis- 
 tance, over as beautiful a beach as exists. Lack 
 of time forced us to use the electric tramway, 
 which disorganized all our watches. This has 
 observation cars, and what cannot be seen from 
 them must be imagined.
 
 THE CA USE WA Y. 89 
 
 In front of me sat a dear old Irish lady who 
 had been coming here from childhood, . and 
 yet she was full of enthusiasm and showed me 
 everything of interest en route from the Giant's 
 profile in a huge rock to Dunluce Castle, a 
 remnant of feudalism which overtops the coast 
 just before the Causeway is reached. At the ter- 
 minus we were met by a guide who had given us 
 his card the previous afternoon, upon our arrival 
 at Portrush. He took possession of us, and 
 after saying a dozen times in succession that he 
 was the very best guide there, Archie Faull by 
 name, and that he had taken Gen. Sherman about 
 the Causeway, we concluded to employ him for his 
 persistence. 
 
 The day was perfect except for a strong breeze, 
 which did not deter us from taking our tickets for 
 what is called the " Long Course." Before buying 
 them I discovered that most tourists see the 
 Causeway by walking to it. Hence our decision 
 to see it from the water. Had we not done this, 
 the Causeway might have come up to our expec- 
 tations ; as it was it did not. 
 
 Our guide led the way to the boat, assuring us 
 for the dozen and oheth time that he had been 
 Gen. Sherman's guide, so we hastened on board 
 by way of quietus, and after that the beauty of the 
 scenery seemed to occupy his mind. Our two
 
 90 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 brawny boatmen made a picture as they pulled us 
 out from the rocky and sea- weed-girt harbor into 
 the white-capped waves, toward the first of the 
 two caves. This can be entered from the land, 
 and while we felt its beauty, we desired to go on 
 to the further one, that only those who are 
 seaworthy can explore. Once before it, we were 
 told how high and deep and wide it was, but as 
 dimensions never remain in my mind a moment, 
 all I can say is that it is higher than an ordinary 
 dwelling-house, with an entrance broader than the 
 front of such a house. The waves at its mouth 
 strenuously objected to our advent, while those 
 behind urged us on, until with a bound we cleared 
 the sea soap-suds left from Fin MacCoul's bath 
 that morning, and entered his rocky chamber. 
 How shall I describe such grandeur ? Let me try ! 
 The floor is of transparent Irish sea- water, beneath 
 which we saw the foundation walls covered with 
 embossed sea-weeds. Its dado is rose-hued, its 
 walls sparkle with many minerals, and its frieze is 
 of maiden-hair and other ferns. High above ex- 
 tends its ceiling of many-colored stones, among 
 which beams of light, reflected from the floor, 
 played hide-and-seek. No wonder the monarch of 
 such grandeur thought he could lay a road-bed 
 between Ireland and Scotland. 
 
 Out through the soap-suds we go again, bound-
 
 THE CA USE WA Y. 91 
 
 % 
 ing and curveting about on the bluest of blue waves. 
 
 In the distance we see steamers bound out of 
 Derry for many ports, the only salvage within our 
 reach being a dead gannet and an empty butter-tub. 
 The latter our frugal seamen pull on board, after 
 which with lusty strokes we head eastward for our 
 destination, the Pleaskin. Between us and this 
 rock lies the beginning of the Causeway, whose 
 other end can be seen by Staffa and lona off Scot- 
 land. Had such a Causeway stood until this day 
 it would be the greatest fire-wrought curiosity of 
 the world. As it is, one takes pleasure in fancying 
 its foundations still lie beneath the sea, which, ever 
 relentless, ever envious of its enemy, Fire, has 
 taken pleasure in defacing the continuity of the 
 most marvelous basaltic structure in the world. 
 
 From the sea the Causeway was certainly a 
 disappointment, as photographs of it are taken 
 evidently with the purpose of flattery. Like a 
 short man, it is taken tall, and the " Now, ladies, 
 I am sure you will be disappointed when I tell 
 you that is the Causeway," from our guide, but 
 expressed our feelings aloud. 
 
 " Yes we are disappointed," we say. 
 
 " Never mind," he adds, " wait until we begin to 
 walk upon it, and then I am sure you will change 
 your mind." 
 
 As we discovered later, the fact was we were
 
 92 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 comparing it with the huge rocks that tower like 
 the supports of a suspension bridge upon both 
 sides from one hundred and forty to three hun- 
 dred and sixty feet. These are all named by 
 fancy, 'as they resemble organ-pipes, the Giant's 
 Wife, the Nurse with their Baby, and in the rock 
 are the Wife's footprints, which only a Chicago 
 woman's shoe would fit to-day. 
 
 Leaving the Causeway behind we come in view 
 of the largest amphitheater in the world, beside 
 which Rome's glory would be a pigmy, and then 
 beyond it the Pleaskin * is reached. Here we turn 
 and retrace our path part way, to land at the 
 Causeway, going about a rocky island, which resem- 
 bles a huge lion couchant, and when painted or 
 photographed gives one some conception of the 
 size of the Giant's animals. Our boatmen offer 
 us boxes of specimens as we prepare to leave 
 them ; but fortunately we do not invest, as we 
 find men willing to sell them for half the price 
 on shore. One man was so like one of our boat- 
 men that I exclaimed, as he approached us : 
 
 " How did you g.et your boat back and change 
 your clothes so quickly ? " 
 
 " I didn't, mum, I'm my brother's twin," he 
 answered, and, sure enough, he was the image of 
 him ! He offered his wares for much less than his 
 brother, one and sixpence a box, the others being 
 
 * A huge rock.
 
 THE CA USE W 'A Y. 93 
 
 two and sixpence, 'and yet when I wanted one 
 specimen only, he asked one shilling for it, when 
 the box contained at least twenty-five specimens. 
 I advised him to put up smaller boxes, which one 
 could more easily carry, and he left me with thanks 
 for my suggestion and the assurance that he would 
 order some small boxes at once. 
 
 With the aid of our guide we find the Lady's 
 Fan of seven columns arranged in a semicircle. 
 This formation is below the level of its compan- 
 ions and is usually full of water. We sit in the 
 wishing-chair and drink from the wishing-well, and 
 afterwards buy deep- red four and five-leaf clover 
 leaves; and, in fact, like children, take in all the 
 side and center shows and enjoy each one to the 
 top of our bent. Our guide says he finds us dif- 
 ferent from most tourists ; we go so slowly and see 
 so much, and are such good sailors. The shaking 
 we got that morning was enough to try our souls, 
 and we don't seem to care for figures. 
 
 " Well," I answer for the party, " we are glad to 
 know you have 50,000 of these basaltic columns, 
 and that they vary in diameter from fifteen to 
 twenty-six inches, but these figures don't make 
 them any more beautiful, or assist us one iota to 
 enjoy the variety and beauty of their shapes." 
 
 " Madam, you are right," he replies, " and I'm
 
 94 AS \VE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 rather glad to meet some one who takes me out of 
 the humdrum routine of my daily life." 
 
 " Did you ever eat a pikelet ? " I ask. 
 
 " What is that something like an English muf- 
 fin ?" he inquires. 
 
 "Yes, we get them now in New York City 
 under the name of crumpets, which they are not. 
 This Causeway makes me think of an immense 
 one. When baked and cooled they look exactly 
 like it, on a small scale. The yeast you see forces 
 each particle upwards, in which position it is 
 baked." 
 
 " You are quite right, me lady," he laughingly 
 replies, " there must have been a lot of yeast put 
 in the Giant's bakin' the day he made the Causy." 
 
 "Are you pleased with the Long Course?" he 
 asks, when once more we are in the hotel. 
 
 " Perfectly, and, more than that, we desire to 
 recommend you to our friends." As quick as a 
 flash he produced a book, and herein with Gen. 
 Sherman and others we put our names. 
 
 If I were to stay a night here I should go to 
 Kane's Hotel next door. It is much more reason- 
 able than the Causeway Hotel, and is presided 
 over by good-natured and huge Mrs. Kane, who 
 attends to business herself. Unfortunately, though, 
 our hotel is not in with the electric tramway which 
 won't allow her porters access to the trains. So I
 
 THE CA USE WA Y. 95 
 
 advised her to have a trustworthy man to visit all 
 Portrush trains and give strangers her cards. 
 
 This visit took place while we waited to have 
 a machine brought around for the first division of 
 our Antrim coast trip, for our driver had taken 
 four of us from the other hotel on a jaunting-car 
 and was very indignant because we refused to let 
 two large women with baskets and a small child 
 get on with us. He was the only disagreeable 
 Irishman we met, and before the end of the 
 journey I was forced to give him a glimpse into 
 the state of my mind regarding his peculiar style 
 of character. Suffice to say, we got a very com- 
 fortable wagonette, in which we made an easy 
 journey to Bally Castle. This drive of about 
 three hours would be far pleasanter if just an hour 
 more was allowed, for there would then be time 
 to go to Carrick-a-Rede, an island of some two 
 acres, which is connected with the steep main-land 
 by a swinging bridge of rope, which in its way 
 is a curiosity. I should rather see this from 
 the shore than attempt to imitate Blondin, by 
 walking over it, with a yawning chasm one hun- 
 dred feet beneath me. Still one should see it, and 
 the half hour allowed for this detour while the 
 horses are climbing a steep hill is not nearly long 
 enough. 
 
 Another piece of advice don't stop at Bally
 
 Q6 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 Castle. It is an uninteresting town, with very 
 indifferent hotels, and upon this particular night 
 had a merry-go-round in its public square upon 
 which the windows of our hotel opened. This 
 kept up a terrible grind until nearly twelve 
 o'clock, making enough noise for a thing three 
 times its size. 
 
 The journey from the Causeway to Larne is 
 no longer than many other coaching trips, and I 
 would rather do it in one day than try to rest 
 where rest could not be found. 
 
 As we were about to take the coach the next 
 morning for Larne, a clean berry woman asked us 
 to patronize her. Her gooseberries had cheeks 
 as red as her own, although she was by no means 
 young. And as I asked the price of them per 
 quart, I said : " You must have been a pretty 
 woman when you were young." 
 
 " Arragh, then, I gets four pence ha'penny for 
 thim, me leddy, but you shall have thim for four- 
 pence, as many as you like, for your pretty com- 
 pliment." 
 
 Here a by-stander chimed in: "She is a clean 
 old woman and she has a man as clean as herself, 
 sure." 
 
 The result was we bought out her stock in 
 trade and all started off eating gooseberries, as 
 sweet as honey, out of huge cabbage-leaves.
 
 THE CA USE WA Y. 97 
 
 This was the glorious Fourth of July, and not 
 one of our party had an American flag ! On the 
 coach, however, were four Americans with one 
 about three inches square, given them the day 
 they sailed, on the topmast of a ship of flowers, 
 and we made the most of this, as you may believe. 
 Our wish that the coach would contain Americans 
 alone on that day had been fulfilled, and as we 
 passed through towns or by groups of picnickers 
 one of the gentlemen would wave the flag and 
 invariably get a "hip, hip, hurrah!" in acknowl- 
 edgment. 
 
 On a fence in one town we passed sat a ragged 
 little Irish boy. The flag was shaken at him, as 
 we went swiftly on, with " Do you know what that 
 is, my boy ? " 
 
 " Star Spangled Banner ! " he shouted after 
 us, much to our surprise. 
 
 All this time we were going along beneath huge 
 rocks of limestone, or through natural arches of it, 
 and after we passed Glen Arm, where we stopped 
 for luncheon and a change of coaches, we had the 
 sea ever before us. I should advise those who 
 travel here to be provided with luncheon. At Glen 
 Arm I ordered four chicken sandwiches. The 
 driver being impatient, I followed up the order, to 
 find they were doing up in newspaper four mutton 
 sandwiches.
 
 98 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 " This will never do ! I ordered chicken ! " 
 I exclaimed. " Take out the meat, please, and 
 give me the chicken separate." 
 
 By this time I was in the kitchen of the hotel 
 and found four women seemingly paralyzed. At 
 this, knowing the driver was in a rage at the delay, 
 I sent one for white paper, another for chicken, 
 another for pepper and salt, and with my own 
 hands removed the mutton from between the 
 bread. When they all returned I did up the 
 bundle and paying what they asked, and charging 
 them nothing for service, tore out to the coach with 
 my booty. Hence, as I have said, don't allow your 
 nerves to be racked in this manner when you do 
 the Antrim coast, but provide yourself in advance. 
 
 As we get nearer Larne, we see the limestone 
 undergoing shipment to Glasgow and other ports, 
 and the natives, men and women, as well as 
 children, at work on the beach. Now what would 
 you believe they are doing ? Well, the tide is out, 
 and for a great distance the stones are covered 
 with the deep sea-weeds, and these they are 
 gathering and putting on the big rocks by the 
 road or on stone walls to dry, while others are 
 taking the already dried weeds off in wagons. 
 Do you wish to know what they do with the dried 
 ones? Nothing more or less than burn them to 
 ashes, which a native told me are sold to wool
 
 THE CA USE WA Y. 99 
 
 works and dyeing establishments. Thus their 
 native element, the sea, furnishes them support 
 which, with very little labor, they can take advan- 
 tage of. There are certain kinds of kelp they find 
 nourishing for food. I have often seen it for sale 
 in the streets, but never desired the experience 
 enough to warrant trying to eat it. " Some likes 
 it biled, and some likes it raw wid vinegar," one 
 old woman who sold it informed me, and I am 
 sure she was rather hurt that I did not on the 
 strength of that information buy a bushel for my 
 next meal. 
 
 The day for this trip was so perfect that we 
 hardly dared mention the fact for fear it might 
 rain. Towards the last we took on some native 
 passengers, and one very neat Irish woman gave 
 me a deep-red rose, saying, " You can tell now you 
 had a flower from the Marquis of Londonderry's 
 castle in Ireland ! " 
 
 At Larne our coach drew up in front of its pro- 
 prietor's hotel, the genial Hugh McNeill. He 
 met us at the door, and finding we could not 
 remain that night, said : " If you will have supper 
 here, I will send my carriage for you to take a 
 drive about the town and get you off in plenty of 
 time to reach Belfast early," We could not but 
 accept such unexpected hospitality, and at six- 
 thirty o'clock, after a most refreshing tea, we
 
 ioo ^5 WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 drove for nearly two hours under the guidance of 
 as amusing a " horsy gentleman " for coachman 
 and after two as gay ponies as I have ever seen. 
 Mr. McNeill had bade him take us up on the hill 
 overlooking the harbor, but, like most of his set, 
 he " 'ad 'is own way of thinkin' " and took us 
 instead, as he well said, " to the purtiest 'amlet in 
 hexistence." The houses were whitened with the 
 lime common in that district, and thatched, and 
 with the acompanying mill-dam and huge trees, 
 that should go with a proper village, it was indeed 
 a gem. As we went to it the sea was on our left, 
 and a quantity of what he called " sea 'ens, hall 
 feathers and bones, Miss, not worth shootin','' 
 were flying about the harbor. 
 
 " Don't this beat hall hother villages hinto fits ? " 
 he cries, as we dash down the main street. 
 
 " Indeed, it does," I answered. " What do they 
 make in these mills?" 
 
 "Whitnin', Miss, used mostly, I believe, for 
 hadulteratin' sugar and such like." 
 
 The main road is full of what we would call 
 " thank-you-ma'ms " in America. I tell him this, 
 and he would I could show you his comical face 
 replies : " Well, Miss, I calls 'em small naps, 
 but if you was to hask me I couldn't christen 'em, 
 onless 'twas to say 'ills and 'oilers, which they is, 
 sure."
 
 THE C.-i USE WA Y. 101 
 
 On our return two carriages pass us containing 
 an Irish wedding party. They are very jolly, and 
 he told us no one was half married unless he could 
 have at least two carriages for the day. These 
 cost two pounds, or ten dollars, and hold eight 
 people. This is only one of the many queer 
 notions the people have in Ireland, the chiefest of 
 which is placing a white horse over the front door. 
 These are made of plaster of Paris, and as the 
 opening over the door is filled in with glass they 
 show to advantage. One day I asked a man their 
 significance, and he replied .- " They have nothing 
 to do with red-headed girls, I can tell you." 
 
 " How did you know of that saying ? " I asked in 
 surprise. 
 
 " Oh, I've lived out in Texas, and when I first 
 went there I tried everywhere to buy a white horse 
 to put over my window, for without it I did not 
 feel at home." 
 
 Our English driver was a man far above such 
 Irish follies, and he had the look in his face the 
 darkey had when he called his kinky-haired off- 
 spring in from the street, where he was playing 
 with some Irish street gamins, saying : " Charles 
 Augustus, come in yhear right smart out ob dat 
 gang ; fust ting you know people'll take you for 
 lish." Suffice to say he begged us to say the view 
 was " very fine," if Mr. McNeill asked us about
 
 102 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 the drive, "for I don't want to get hinto trouble, 
 Miss, only I know hit would be too 'ard work for 
 the 'orses if I took 'em hup that 'ill; " and so when 
 oar host asked "if the view was fine," we said, 
 "Yes, indeed, it was." And thus every one was 
 pleased on all sides. Strangest of all, not one cent 
 were we allowed to pay, so the driver came in for 
 a good fee when he left us at the station. 
 
 Can I do less than urge every one to do the 
 Antrim coast, and at the end make a friend of 
 big-hearted Hugh McNeill in Larne, whose enter- 
 prise directs the trip and makes it possible to 
 spend an entire day comfortably in sight of the 
 islands of Scotland, with the sea stretched before 
 you ? 
 
 We found in Belfast a driving, well-built and 
 enterprising city, and took much pleasure in visit- 
 ing its linen show-rooms, among them that of 
 Brown & Sons. A nephew of the firm took us 
 about through the rooms and offered to go out 
 to their suburban works with us if we had time. 
 As it was, he told us every dozen of their napkins 
 and every table-cloth had the trefoil in one corner, 
 hence the buyer need never be confused regarding 
 their make. " Here are a pile of handkerchiefs 
 going out to Flint & Kent of your city," he said, 
 as we came into the handkerchief department, and, 
 as usual, they were the finest and best.
 
 THE CA USE WA Y. 103 
 
 One shop unfurls the American flag every morn- 
 ing by way of catching trade, you see, as they do 
 in Dublin. 
 
 If any of my readers ever are fortunate enough 
 to see Belfast, do not be induced to go to the 
 Royal Avenue Hotel. It is a commercial trav- 
 elers' hotel par excellence and we were forced to 
 eat in the common coffee-room. Here some of 
 the men had their hats on. I called the head- 
 waiter and asked if there was no other room. 
 
 " Is this not all right, madam ? " he asked. 
 
 " No, I didn't suppose it was, from the presence 
 of the men I see over there. If we remain you 
 will have to ask them to remove their hats." 
 
 At this he made a bee-line for the kitchen. As 
 the hats were not removed and he did not return, 
 I called for him and asked, " Are you not going to 
 have those men remove their hats ? I suppose, as 
 head-waiter, it is your business to see your dining- 
 room is not converted into a bar-room ! " 
 
 " Well," (he was German) he said, shrugging his 
 shoulders, " what is one with them to do spike 
 to them? " 
 
 " Yes," I replied, " spike them with your tongue, 
 and see if you can move them." 
 
 This he proceeded to do, seeing I was deter- 
 mined to have quiet and order or not remain.
 
 104 AS }VE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 Hats removed and Home Rule established, we 
 asked for muffins. 
 
 " Muffins ! " he reiterates. 
 
 "Yes, muffins; have you none? they are on the 
 bill of fare.'' 
 
 " No, but we can send out and you them buy," 
 he replies. 
 
 As, of course, we would not put him to the trou- 
 ble of them to buy, we, after a weary wait, had 
 some miserable coffee and cold toast. Now, such 
 a breakfast does not tend to make even the most 
 saintly in harmony with the world, and so I again 
 impress it upon you, despite its prominent situation 
 and reputation, don't go there. 
 
 We regretted not being able to go to see the 
 beautiful glen just out of Belfast, which our horsy 
 friend of Larne had highly recommended, as well 
 as Rosstrevor, not far south of Belfast. 
 
 After contenting ourselves with a walk about 
 the old Linen Hall, and paying our respects to our 
 new consul, we returned in the afternoon to beau- 
 tiful Larne. We could see our route there better 
 than the previous evening, and realized for the first 
 time how well placed Belfast is, almost on the sea, 
 and yet completely hidden in its bay, which can 
 hold an immense fleet. 
 
 Between it and Larne are many country places, 
 all possessing some local attraction.
 
 THE CA USE WA Y. 105 
 
 We were to take the newest steamer in the line, 
 our train going directly down to the wharf, and 
 were told she took "only eighty minutes to cross 
 to Stranraer." 
 
 Alas ! The wind was rampant, and the passage 
 was made in two hours and some odd minutes 
 instead. The boat was thoroughly baptized, and 
 many were sick. I went out to the bow rather than 
 stay in the stuffy cabin, and nothing but holding 
 on with all the strength I possessed kept me from 
 being washed overboard. Some Scotchmen sought 
 this place also, as being less likely to be wet, but a 
 head-wind in her teeth caused the boat to perform 
 all kinds of antics, and so for the nonce we were 
 all birds of a feather. Mackintoshes kept us some- 
 what dry, but just as we turned into the harbor of 
 Lough Ryan a wave covered us, and " Well, you 
 are a brave little woman ! Where do you come 
 from ?" burst from them in chorus. 
 
 "America," I gasped, as I shook myself some- 
 what free from the water. 
 
 "We thought you were not English, didn't we, 
 Bob?" said a red-faced Sandy. 
 
 " And I thought so, too," I answered, " when 
 that wave struck me, for I felt like a mermaid, 
 and didn't know for a moment but that I'd have 
 to be one."
 
 io6 A S WE SA W IT IN '90. 
 
 Despite this wetting, I caught no cold and spent 
 a peaceful Sunday at Stranraer at the hospitable 
 "George." 
 
 As far as food and attendance goes, one is glad 
 to be through with Ireland, but some peculiarities 
 hold here as there. Your " Please bring me some 
 water," is invariably answered by " Bilin', Miss ? " 
 until you laugh and say, " No, cold for drinking ! " 
 and if you are not very sharp the waiter will come 
 with a pot of "bilin'," and kindly dilute your coffee 
 in the twinkling of an eye, which is already the 
 essence of weakness from too large a dose of chic- 
 ory, bran, beans, and everything but coffee. How- 
 ever, the scenery, antiquity and history of Great 
 Britain must be its excuse for backwardness and 
 failings in a great many particulars, and we begin 
 by finding the Scotch brogue a pleasant change 
 from the Irish, and enter upon our Scotch trip with 
 the enthusiasm due to fair weather, cool breezes 
 and good health.
 
 LETTER VII. 
 BURNS AND SCOTT. 
 
 Scenes Full of Recollections of their Lives Fine Drives 
 amid the Heather Dumfries, Melrose, Abbots ford, the 
 Falls of the Clyde, and Tillietudlem Castle. 
 
 GLASGOW, July 14, 1890. 
 
 HAS it ever occurred, I wonder, to any of the 
 Courier s readers how satisfactory it would be if, 
 after enjoying certain roads or particular streams, 
 hills or valleys, one could let them know what an 
 amount of joy they had given, or how they had 
 even exceeded the most exalted anticipation ? 
 Instead, we enjoy giving vent to exclamations of 
 pleasure and are very thankful to a wise Creator 
 for all His endowments to this world of ours. 
 These thoughts have come to me during a recent 
 trip planned and executed successfully, without 
 the aid of railway officials' advice, but with plenty 
 of discouragement from them. I proposed to go 
 from Dumfries to Ayr without going via Kilmar- 
 nock, Edinburgh, or Glasgow. Every railway man 
 I asked information of said no one went that way,
 
 io8 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 it was entirely out of tourists' routes. " Then I 
 will do it, and find out my way bit by bit, which 
 will be all the more interesting," I would answer. 
 
 From Stranraer to Dumfries we passed through 
 a most interesting country, dotted with gems of 
 lochs, being often within sight of the many bays 
 of the Solway Firth. From this part of Scotland 
 come the huge black steeds called Galloways, and 
 in the train we found the change in the people's 
 speech from Irish to Scotch quite interesting. 
 
 Once in Dumfries, which teems with memories 
 of Robert Burns, we went a short walk from the 
 station to the Globe Inn, where Burns, with a host 
 of friends, had spent many a night and partaken of 
 many a meal. It is found, after threading a white- 
 washed and very clean close or wynd, and passing 
 through its quaint grill-room into the best parlor, 
 we find Burns's chair in the very corner he used 
 to occupy. Here are already three Scotch 
 women and two men. The eldest of the latter 
 rises as we enter, and, taking him for the master 
 of the house, I bid him good-day. He cordially 
 shakes me by the hand and asks me to be seated. 
 Before doing so I say: "Can you give us some 
 refreshments ? I had a delicious cup of tea here 
 once, two years ago." 
 
 Here the younger man speaks up with : " Hout, 
 Davy, man, the leddy takes ye for landlord."
 
 BURNS AND SCOTT. 109 
 
 " And is he not ? " I ask. 
 
 " Indeed he is not ; only Davy Thomson of 
 Dumfries, who has brought us here to see the 
 place where R-r-rob-art Bur-r-rns used to live lang 
 syne ! " 
 
 My mistake caused a laugh and made us all 
 acquainted. That Americans should care for, or 
 even know about, the poet seemed to surprise as 
 well as please them, and when some of us quoted 
 a bit they went into ecstacies, saying they believed 
 we liked him and knew him better than English 
 or Scotch. Of course we all sat in the chair by the 
 fireside for inspiration and went up to Burns's bed- 
 room above, to see the window-panes upon 
 which he had scratched in verse the following 
 tribute to the Globe Inn : 
 
 " Whatever you choose, be 't ale or beer, 
 
 Or whatever fit your nob, 
 At moderate fare, you may have here, 
 The best that's in the Globe." 
 
 On an adjoining pane he expressed his opinion 
 in this way regarding some rustic beauty : 
 
 "O lovely Polly Stewart, 
 O charming Polly Stewart, 
 There's no a flower that blooms in May 
 That's half so fair as thou art."
 
 no AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 And, best of all, we discovered a different 
 version of his famous "Comin' thro' the Rye" : 
 
 " Gin a body meet a body 
 Comin' thro' the grain, 
 Gin a body kiss a body, 
 The thing's a body's ain." 
 
 After this Mr. Thomson (without the letter p) 
 warmed to the subject, and told some very inter- 
 esting anecdotes of the poet. The most personal 
 one was that his father was apprenticed to the 
 man who made Burns's coffin, and that when the 
 poet was reinterred his father made the second 
 coffin. 
 
 After the ladies had generously shared some 
 beautiful roses with us, we parted with a hand- 
 shake all around, the younger man telling us, as 
 his name was Adam, his wife's name was Eve. 
 
 After this we visited Burns's grave, covered by 
 a mausoleum, about which his favorite pink-tipped 
 daisy grew in wild profusion ; also the house in 
 which he died, now occupied by the principal of 
 an industrial school for boys. 
 
 Not far from here in the churchyard of the 
 Grey Friars Monastery, is a new building in place 
 of the ancient church in which Bruce slew the 
 Red Comyn. To reach it we pass the square in 
 which is Burns's monument, quite the most satis-
 
 BURNS AND SCOTT. in 
 
 factory one yet erected to his memory. In front 
 of the church I found the same coachman I had 
 employed two years ago, looking just as natural 
 and as pleased to see me as if only hours instead 
 of years had intervened since last we met. 
 
 Dumfries makes me think of the sun when it 
 shoots forth visible rays in every direction as it is 
 about to set. From it diverge many roads, but 
 from one to the other you cannot pass unless by 
 returning to Dumfries to get a fresh start. This 
 is an aggravating state of affairs, if one is tied to 
 time ; but if not it is a very pleasant way to realize 
 geography. 
 
 One of these roads leads to the grave of 
 Helen Walker, the original of Jeanie Deans, 
 in Scott's famous story ; another to that of 
 " Old Mortality," who rests beneath the sod in 
 Caerlaverock Churchyard. This we decided to 
 visit, and were further interested in Caerlaverock 
 village and church, as it is said to be the original 
 of Ellengowan in " Guy Mannering." 
 
 With pleasure and profit we might have con- 
 tinued our quest to Caerlaverock Castle, which 
 stands on a rock at times quite surrounded by the 
 incoming tide of the Solway Firth ; but we had 
 planned to visit New or Sweetheart Abbey, and 
 back we go again to the heart of Dumfries. Both 
 of these drives were between hedges of hawthorn,
 
 112 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 in the absence of its own bloom radiant with the 
 blossoms of sweet briar, honeysuckle, and purple 
 vetch, which climbed in profuse unison, while the 
 more modest yellow vetch, with big-eyed violets 
 and speedwell, remained by the roadside in com- 
 panionship with sweet red and white clover and 
 different grasses. 
 
 The ruin of New Abbey is not large, but it is 
 especially artistic, and the added sentiment regard- 
 ing the burial of the heart of Balliol, here in the 
 grave of his devoted wife, the founder, inclines us 
 rather to call it Douce Coeur or Sweetheart Abbey, 
 rather than New. 
 
 Just as we are about to enter it a summer 
 shower comes up, which wets the dark stone of 
 the ruin, bringing out its color, and, with every 
 corner and arch dripping, we investigate its 
 length and breadth. 
 
 On leaving we discover it is supper-time, and, 
 while waiting for our coachman to return from 
 baiting his horse, we step into the rose-covered 
 porch of a modest cottage close at hand. Hearing 
 our chatter, the owner comes to the door and 
 cordially invites us in. Of course we accept, and 
 in some mysterious way she finds out we are 
 hungry, and almost before we know it supper is 
 served. Boiled eggs, delicious strawberry jam, 
 tea, cold lamb, and cold biscuit !
 
 BURNS AND SCOTT. 113 
 
 " Could we have them split in half and toasted ? " 
 I ask. 
 
 " Indeed you may," she answers. 
 
 As they don't come in fast enough for our 
 voracity, I take the liberty of going out into the 
 kitchen, and, of course, that seems to hurry mat- 
 ters to those waiting in the dining-room. " 
 
 How hungry we are ! Yet not so much so that 
 we cannot notice the wax wreaths which have 
 served on several funeral occasions, in memo- 
 riams, printed in very black type in shape of a 
 tombstone, and family groups hanging about the 
 wall. 
 
 Just as we finish, our driver appears, and back 
 we go to Dumfries, between dripping hedges, and 
 over a decidedly dust-laid road. 
 
 How much was our supper, do you ask ? Well, 
 our hostess would not take but a shilling per head 
 (twenty-five cents of our money), and so we felt 
 able to invest in some photographs of the village 
 miller, who kept the Abbey keys, and lived in the 
 high street hard by. 
 
 I am sure no one would regret giving one week 
 to Dumfries and vicinity, and I shall be glad if 
 this hasty sketch of what we did in a few hours 
 should induce anyone so to do. 
 
 At 7.15 we find a train that will take us to 
 Moffat via Lockerby and Beattock, making direct
 
 H4 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 connections, but changing twice. Over here they 
 shunt their passengers and not their cars. This is 
 most enjoyable, as one must run about and see if 
 one's luggage has been also transferred. 
 
 As the summer shower went before us, we find 
 Moffat clean-washed, and the quietest spot in the 
 world. 
 
 Its main avenue is very broad, and the town 
 reminds one of Palmyra, N. Y. The Buccleuch 
 Arms, which we choose, has just gone into new 
 hands, and is spic-span new throughout, and with 
 only the delay a cup of tea and delicious toast will 
 occasion, we are soon in bed and asleep. 
 
 In the morning we take a stroll up to the post- 
 office, which gives us a chance to see the beaux 
 and belles on their way to drink the water of the 
 saline well. 
 
 Again we say, how quiet it is ? Indeed a person 
 weary of noise and bustle would do well to seek 
 out Moffat, for it is in every way suited to calm 
 a tired mind. 
 
 Its grand trees, its life-giving springs, its near- 
 ness to so much that is historic, made a great 
 impression upon us, and especially do we remem- 
 ber that the manager of its bank gave us money 
 on our letter of credit, despite the fact that his 
 bank was not a correspondent of Brown, Shipley 
 & Co. But the oft-sung beauties of St. Mary's
 
 BURNS' AND SCOTT. 115 
 
 Loch are -still unknown to us, and, although it 
 looks like rain, we take outside seats and prepare 
 for a day's drive. The first half of the journey is 
 a succession of surprises. In the first place, the 
 sun comes out ; secondly, we have a gentlemanly 
 Scotchman on the seat ahead of us who is going 
 to his childhood's home and knows every inch of 
 the country perfectly ; and thirdly, the recent rain 
 has filled all the streams, which come tumbling 
 over the rocks on both sides of the road to the 
 Moffat. This river, but a stream itself, grows 
 beautifully less as we approach its source, despite 
 reinforcements from a really high and turbulent 
 waterfall called the Grey Mare's Tail. 
 
 We descend and walk up to it, over hills quite 
 destitute of trees, but covered with a variety of 
 lichens and quantities of parsley fern, as well as 
 many wild flowers. 
 
 About one mile further, upon the top of a brae, 
 stands the home of our traveling companion. His 
 father, very old but still erect, with visage stern, 
 comes out to water our horses, barely nodding to 
 his son, but the mother is in the doorway to greet 
 him, and he forms a conspicuous figure among the 
 other homespun members of the family, clad as he 
 is in clothes of a stylish cut. Directly in front of 
 their door, across the road, is a bit of marshy 
 ground. In this rise both the Moffat and Yarrow,
 
 u6 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 the latter going north, the former, as I have shown 
 you, flowing south. Not a house is to be seen on 
 any side, but instead, everywhere hills, covered 
 with sheep and heather. 
 
 As we descend, following the Yarrow, we find a 
 few homes, but they are far between. 
 
 " Where do you bury your dead ? " I asked of 
 the driver. 
 
 " Well, I don't know, Miss, to tell the truth ; our 
 people live forever." 
 
 Hence we have christened the mound-like lime- 
 kilns, we see from time to time, family vaults, and 
 many a merry smile have we raised upon the 
 usually grim visages of our different drivers by the 
 inquiry when one was seen by the roadside : 
 " Driver, is that a family vault ? " 
 
 At last we get a glimpse of St. Mary's Loch, the 
 lake which Hogg, Wordsworth, Scott, and many 
 other poets have celebrated in prose and verse, and 
 find it every whit as beautiful as they did, when 
 once we are in plain sight of it. With a flourish 
 our coachman brings us up in front of Tibbie 
 Shiel's cottage, which, although its owner has been 
 dead eleven years, yet bears her name, and which 
 by any other name would not be one-half so sweet. 
 Her son, George Richardson, who succeeded his 
 mother upon her death in 1879, was sitting in the 
 kitchen, family sitting-room, and former bedroom
 
 BURNS AND SCOTT. 117 
 
 of his mother, as we entered. This was just the 
 room we had wished to see, and he was amused at 
 our exclamations as we investigated the fireplace, 
 the ceiling, and finally the beds built into the wall. 
 A halt of two hours or more enabled us to see the 
 very appropriate statue erected to the Ettrick 
 Shepherd in the high road and enjoy a real Scotch- 
 cooked dinner. 
 
 Our second stage of the journey was made lively 
 by a most intelligent driver, a character in fact, 
 by name Robert Wallace, and he kept our heads 
 turning one way or the other every moment until 
 Selkirk was reached, as he pointed out a hiding- 
 place of the Covenanters, a ruined tower, a Roman 
 bridge, or what not, all through the Vale of Yarrow. 
 In fact, the whole day was a delight, even the 
 broom being in full flower here, which made the 
 road-banks a glare of yellow. 
 
 At Selkirk, which stands on a hill, we had tea, 
 and by 8.30 o'clock were settled at the Abbey 
 Hotel in Melrose. 
 
 This is the most central place from which to 
 visit Abbotsford and Dryburgh, but, if one has 
 plenty of time, Kelso is a more interesting town 
 and quite as near Dryburgh. Its ruined abbey 
 was the childhood's idol of Sir Walter Scott, and 
 upon the banks of the Tweed he spent many an 
 hour reading " Percy's Reliques," the very copies
 
 ii8 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 he used being still in the town library. I went 
 there for a night and could have remained a week, 
 so comfortable was I at the Queen's Head, quite 
 a different place from the extravagant and poorly 
 kept Abbey Hotel at Melrose. From Kelso one 
 can also go up and down the Tweed, the Teviot, 
 or the Jed. In fact, the place is full of history, 
 turn where you will, and satisfies and gratifies 
 one's love of the poetic, artistic, or historic. 
 
 The evening of our arrival at Melrose the sun 
 had set in gorgeous clouds, and from 9 o'clock 
 until 10.30 we wandered about the Abbey, whose 
 spans and arches were most entrancing in the 
 twilight, which never seems to leave the sky until 
 daybreak comes with its decided light again at 
 about 3.30 o'clock. 
 
 On our way to Abbotsford, the next morning, we 
 passed through Darnick, which still has a Border 
 or Peel Tower few tourists ever see on account of 
 the uniform ignorance of Melrose coachmen, but 
 which is not only picturesque but unique. 
 
 Abbotsford, I would like to assure all tourists, 
 has not been sold by Mrs. Maxwell Scott, as has 
 been asserted in all the papers. It has only been 
 rented for a term of years, and that part sacred 
 to her famous ancestor is as available to the public 
 (upon payment of the open sesame shilling) as 
 ever it was.
 
 BURNS AND SCOTT. 119 
 
 Our party fortunately only had added to it 
 three Scotch women, and Flynn, the usually 
 gruff custodian, was a perfect dear upon the 
 occasion, allowing us to linger in the rooms, 
 answering questions with patience, and finally 
 allowing us to go out into the front entrance court, 
 from which we could see the grand doorway, and 
 the grave of faithful and much-loved Maida. The 
 Scotch women were in a state of exclamation, and 
 as we turned to go out Flynn informed them they 
 must consider themselves in luck, and thank the 
 Yankee lady who had had her way about seeing 
 everything that morning that he " never showed 
 no one." 
 
 " Have you never been here before ? " I asked. 
 
 " No, and we live in Edinburgh, too, if you'll 
 believe it," they answered. 
 
 "Of course you have read all of Scott's novels," 
 I ventured to inquire. 
 
 " No, we have not ; but now, I dare say, we will 
 do so, having been here." 
 
 Even this great poet is not without honor still, 
 you see ! 
 
 On our way back to Dryburgh we stopped and 
 walked up the Fairy Glen or Ellawyland Scott has 
 used so picturesquely in "The Monastery," and 
 then continued our drive, via Gattonside and 
 Bemerside. In the former town are raised quan-
 
 120 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 titles of fruit. One house, before which we stopped 
 to buy strawberries and cherries, had its entire 
 front hidden by a cherry-tree, trained flat against 
 the plaster, and the fruit, which hung in profusion 
 upon it, was protected from birds by a huge net 
 stretched over it from end to end. 
 
 The rest of our drive from here to Dryburgh 
 was the realization of a dream, for over this very 
 road Scott had often ridden, and by it his funeral 
 cortege wended its way to his last resting-place. 
 It is not the usual way, however, to get to Dry- 
 burgh, because Bemerside Hill is a long pull, but 
 insistence helps one to many a victory, and when 
 we had reached the very hill upon which Sir Walter 
 used to rest his pony while he drank in the view, 
 we felt nearer to him than ever before. Here was 
 no change. The Tweed, lying in sinuous beauty, 
 could be traced as far as Galashiels. The Eildon 
 hills stood sharply out, green from top to toe, and 
 beyond, silent and ruined, was Dryburgh. What 
 could we have asked for more ! 
 
 For several hours we wandered about Dryburgh, 
 while dozens of parties were shoo-ed through it by 
 the guide in order to catch a train. Having plenty 
 of time, we found some most curious grave-stones 
 in the cemetery close at hand, which had rudely- 
 cut figures upon them reading or singing from 
 a book.
 
 BURNS AND SCOTT. 121 
 
 Our next journey was to Galashiels, the busiest 
 town of its size in the world, where we visited one 
 of the largest and oldest tweed manufactories, 
 owned by the Messrs. Cochrane. A member of 
 the firm most politely took us about, and we 
 saw the entire process, from the washing of the 
 dirty wool to the coloring, carding, weaving and 
 finishing. 
 
 In the station we saw one of that wonderful race 
 of fish-wives for which the neighborhood of Edin- 
 boro' is famous. She was a perfect picture, from 
 her white-frilled cap to her woolen-stockinged legs, 
 with her skirts quite above the ankles and an outer 
 dress pinned at the hips, so as to form a V-shape 
 in front. Her Scotch was full of the essence of 
 broadness, and her name, Robina Miller Richie, she 
 told us was R-r-rob-e-na-Meal-ler A-R-r-retchey. 
 She had also been a widow these twelve years, 
 she said, her husband leaving her, when he was 
 drowned at sea, with five children and one to bear. 
 These she had brought up in the fear of the Lord, 
 and sent them all to school by selling haddies for 
 twenty-five years every day in Galashiels. Her 
 face was handsome still beneath show-white hair, 
 although she was but fifty. How I wish I could 
 give you her exact words, gestures, and pronun- 
 ciation, during our conversation. Finding we were 
 from America she asked if we would shake hands
 
 122 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 with her, and when I told her I had crossed the 
 ocean three times, she straightened herself up, and 
 replied: "Ma dear-r-r, ya cud na do that onless 
 the dear-r-r Lard was wi' ye, mind thet ! " Last 
 of all she offered us some " Caller haddies very 
 chep." " See Peter's mar-r-k 'pon them of his 
 thumb," she said, by way of inducement, but we 
 explained we had no home at present, and satisfied 
 her with a few pennies, as a peace-offering instead. 
 
 Between this adventure and reading the adver- 
 tisements, we whiled away the time until our 
 train was due. The competition in tea here is 
 immense, if one may judge from the advertise- 
 ments. " Everyone should drink Mazawatte, from 
 Ceylon," we are told. And as in the hotels we 
 find the tea bitter and boiled, we have taken to 
 calling it the " Waz-a-mattee with it " brand. 
 
 At Innerleithen we stopped merely for the sake 
 of seeing the historic Traquair House, a short 
 drive out of town, but we lost our hearts to pretty 
 Mrs. McPherson at the Traquair Arms, when we 
 engaged our carriage, and concluded to remain 
 the night there instead of in Peebles. Our supper 
 was really home-like, everything\ delicious, and 
 again fried potatoes, without asking for them. 
 After supper Mrs. McPherson directed us how to 
 walk to St. Ronan's Well, and upon our return 
 took us through their fine stables, containing many
 
 BURNS AND SCOTT. 123 
 
 horses and all kinds of traps, and finally invited 
 us to see a game of bowls in the club grounds of 
 which her husband was a member. Within sight 
 and sound of our hotel, a band of village youths 
 were giving an evening concert. The leader was 
 paid by the town to teach them, and really the music 
 was quite reviving. My advice to all is, do visit 
 Innerleithen. The old saline spring, still fashion- 
 able, is drinkable, the town quiet, the Traquair 
 Arms home-like, and Mr. and Mrs. McPherson, 
 the kindest of friends, will plan no end of excur- 
 sions for you about this, the most interesting part 
 of Scotland. 
 
 Early next morning we were off for Peebles, 
 employing the two hours there before leaving for 
 Lanark, in visiting its two ruined churches and 
 Cross Key's Inn, the original of " Meg Dod's " in 
 " St. Ronan's Well," and from the Caledonian 
 station getting a fine view of Niedpath Castle on 
 the Tweed. 
 
 At the post-office I asked if there was any mail 
 for me. 
 
 "Any what?" asked the man in charge. 
 
 " Mail," I answered. 
 
 At this he turned and consulted with six men at 
 work with letters, and returning said : 
 
 " Do you mean letters and newspapers? "
 
 124 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 '' Yes," I answered, rather impatiently. " What 
 else could I mean ?" 
 
 " I don't know, I'm shoo-ah," he replied, "but 
 we don't call them by that name he-ah." 
 
 As I took my departure I wondered if they called 
 themselves males they-ar. 
 
 I was very glad to be once more on the Cale- 
 donian Railway, which we had left at Moffat, for 
 by close questioning I had discovered there was 
 great rivalry between it and the North British, 
 and that officials of the latter road were not 
 allowed Caledonian time-tables. Hence if I wished 
 to get to Lanark from Melrose they would send 
 me to Glasgow and down to Lanark ; or if I 
 wanted Ayr they would send me via Edinburgh 
 and Glasgow, instead of letting me dream there 
 was any other way just within my reach. Thus 
 when Lanark was reached, without the aid of the 
 North British roads, we felt we deserved to be 
 congratulated. 
 
 The best way to see the Falls of the Clyde from 
 Lanark is to arrange for your own conveyance, if 
 with a party. Otherwise you will have to abide 
 the time of the coaching trips r which are just as 
 expensive. The first two falls, Bonnington and 
 Corra Linn, are most beautiful and thirty and 
 eighty-five feet high. The walk up the glen to 
 them is easily accomplished, as there are plenty of
 
 BUXNS AND SCOTT. 125 
 
 resting-places, and Wallace's Cave can also be 
 seen en route. In fact, this district teems with 
 memories of Wallace gained in childhood from 
 the " Scottish Chiefs." The second fall is in 
 another direction further down the Clyde, and the 
 drive to it takes one through the garden of 
 Scotland. The hills are covered with strawberries 
 and vegetables, and the fall of Stonebyrcs, sixty- 
 eighth feet high, has enough beauty to recom- 
 mend "it to the tourist. 
 
 At Crossfords my friends left me to return to 
 Ayr while I made a most unique excursion, viz.: 
 between high hedges, up, up, up a brae, I 
 reached a high road. From time to time I met 
 miners, wearing hats with a lamp in the front, who 
 bowed in passing and remarked that it was a fine 
 day. The road led me into a glen, much like that 
 at Watkins, and for three-quarters of an hour I 
 climbed through this, utterly alone but for the 
 birds and stream, and creeping things with which 
 it teemed. The trees were old and moss-grown, 
 and where one had died ivy had covered it over 
 and quite buried it from sight in a generous 
 embrace. 
 
 At last I reached my goal, Tillietudlem, or, more 
 properly, Craignethan Castle, which first name 
 Sir Walter Scott is responsible for in his " Old 
 Mortality." It is the grandest ruin I ever visited,
 
 126 AS U'E SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 and reaching it by such a romantic path made it 
 all the more charming. A very ancient house in 
 the huge court-yard is inhabited by the keeper em- 
 ployed by the Earl of Home who owns it; and after 
 a look about, his wife served me a homelike tea 
 in the quaintest old kitchen, while she sat sewing 
 in a mediaeval window near by ready to do my 
 bidding. " Granny," the cat, with her little grand- 
 child, of whom she said, " She does na need any- 
 
 
 
 body till amuse her ; she's no the least pettit or 
 trouble," played by the hearth of a curious old 
 fire-place, and only the need of being in Glasgow 
 that night ever made me leave such a peaceful 
 scene. I truly envied the artists at work in the 
 twilight, as I wended my way past a huge coal 
 mine to Tillietudlem station. 
 
 Just before the . train arrived three English 
 people, who had been on our coach to the falls 
 that day, came panting into the station. A smile 
 of recognition passed between us. 
 
 "Did you enjoy the Castle?" I asked. 
 
 " What Castle ? " they exclaimed, " we've come 
 all the way through the glen but saw no Castle ! " 
 
 " Did you not know of it ? " I asked. 
 
 " No ; was it worth visiting ? " 
 
 " Well, its what I went through the glen for, 
 otherwise I never should have taken such a 
 tramp," I replied.
 
 BURNS AND SCOTT. 127 
 
 "Oh de-ar," they puffed out, "how very pro- 
 voking ! " and just here the train took them up 
 out of my sight. f 
 
 Glasgow was reached through blazing skies. On 
 either side of the train were hundreds of furnaces 
 at work, and one might almost imagine one was 
 appoaching the infernal regions. In fact Glasgow 
 is rather a wicked city in the lower parts, even 
 more wicked than London, they tell me, and yet 
 I found the West End knows little of what the 
 East End doeth.
 
 LETTER VIII. 
 THE SCOTTISH LAKES. 
 
 Mountains and Valleys of Romantic and Historic Interest 
 A Delightful Old Coachman Regions where the people 
 Talk Gaelic Alone to their Horses. 
 
 DUNKELD, SCOTLAND, August 13. 1890. 
 IT is all very well to say, " Buy guide-books 
 and study them, when preparing for a trip." 
 Indeed, I know this is quite an English fashion ; 
 but after all, more information can be obtained in 
 one conversation from a real live and intelligent 
 traveler, who has been over the ground you antici- 
 pate doing, than many days of research for your- 
 self could ever yield. He tells you what hotels 
 full of pitfalls to avoid, or what ones to be sure 
 to employ, what routes give you the best scenery 
 for the most reasonable sum, and about those that 
 are exorbitant and fatiguing. And when, having 
 heeded well his words, your excursion turns out 
 a perfect one, you congratulate yourself upon 
 having the good fortune to encounter such an 
 intelligent Britain abroad.
 
 7'HE SCOTTISH LAKES. 129 
 
 In this letter I shall give a few pen-on-paper 
 etchings of a most enjoyable Scotch trip made 
 under blue skies, with plenty of sunshine and cool 
 weather. The only drawback was the continual 
 holiday excursions, which, whenever we employed 
 the railway, crowded us and tried our tempers. 
 If the people only went for a picnic, one would 
 gladly sympathize with them in the event, but 
 when their vacation is made up of drunkenness, as 
 noticeable in the highways as by-ways, it gets to 
 be a matter for serious contemplation, and of 
 regret that we are here during July rather than 
 
 August. 
 
 * * 
 
 * 
 
 Glasgow has much to offer for the entertainment 
 of a stranger, both in itself and neighborhood, 
 turn towards whatever point of the compass he 
 may. A quiet Bath street lodging gives one home 
 comforts, if the choice is a fortunate one. Your 
 landlady wears inimitable caps and antique gowns 
 and has an indescribable speech and manner that 
 the absence of all but one tooth, which swings in 
 her upper jaw, does not detract from. You buy 
 your own dinner if you choose, or she does it for 
 you and gives you the bill ; and furthermore you 
 may superintend the cooking thereof. 
 
 Instead of the everlasting mutton, cabbage, and 
 sweets (pastry), you wisely order what Scott called
 
 130 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 " the statutory dainties of old England," roast beef 
 and pudding (Yorkshire, after your own recipe), 
 peas, artichokes, salad, and red raspberries, or 
 rasps, as they are called here for short. This 
 repast at a hotel table d'hdte would cost four 
 people twenty English shillings. In Bath street 
 lodgings it costs them less than half that. 
 
 The Sauchiehall Street Cyclorama of Bannock- 
 burn takes one back to the days of Bruce, and is 
 a happy preparation for a visit to Stirling. One 
 old woman was so charmed with the entire scene 
 that she informed her good man in an earnest 
 whisper she'd like to remain there for ever. 
 " Weel," he replied, " if ye'll do so, Jeanie, I'll 
 ne'er grudge the saxpence it cost me to get ye 
 in." Connected with it was a restaurant that 
 furnished well-cooked food and really good coffee 
 for a modest sum. 
 
 A morning spent in Forrester's antique book 
 shop is a perfect treat. Name any book, no 
 matter how old or rare the edition, and you have 
 it at once in your hand. He knows you can't 
 purchase, and tells you he would rather talk and 
 show books to an interested person than sell them
 
 THE SCOTTISH LAKES. 131 
 
 to one who is ignorant, so you feel comfortable, 
 at least, and enjoy the treat to the top of your 
 
 bent. 
 
 * * 
 * 
 
 The three frolicsome falls of the Clyde have 
 here assumed magnificent proportions, for a Scotch 
 river, and upon its tide, the Clotha (Clyde) line of 
 swift steam-yachts bears one to the sea. These 
 can be boarded at any of its bridges, the fee a 
 penny, and one must gaze quickly upon both 
 banks in order not to miss the Broomielaw, against 
 which are moored the Anchor and State Line 
 steamships, an old training-ship used as a reform- 
 atory for boys, a new horse ferry-boat, named 
 Fanniston, just launched, with its double deck, 
 looking not unlike a house afloat, and myriads of 
 other craft from every country on the globe. 
 
 * * 
 * 
 
 Through the middle of the stream, ships heavy 
 with freight are being towed to the sea. As we 
 dart in and out between these, to land and take 
 on passengers, a distant murmur is heard, which 
 increases as the river becomes broader. A million 
 anvil choruses could not drown it now, for 'tis 
 the song of the building of the ship, whose 
 melody cheers the heart of many a man. See, on 
 either hand, ships in all stages, from start to
 
 132 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 finish, as profound mysteries to us as the making 
 of a bonnet from bits of wire, foundation, lace 
 and ribbon would be to a ship-builder. The 
 last yard contains the Phranang ready to be 
 launched on the morrow, complete as to hulk 
 only. For the carpenter-work to be put on her, 
 she will take the place in a neighboring dock of a 
 beauty ready to sail. A whistle announces the 
 dinner hour ! In a moment all is silent, while 
 thousands of men prepare to refresh themselves. 
 The wonderful magnitude of this industry can be 
 judged of only by a visit. 
 
 Approaching Loch Lomond from Glasgow, via 
 Balloch pier, we find its watch-dog, Ben Lomond, 
 and all the other Bens as far as Ben More, reful- 
 gent in the rays of the declining sun. So much 
 beauty in one glance is like a thunder-clap, 
 bewildering. The moving boat changes the scene 
 momently, until past the islands we reach Luss 
 and Tarbet, which brings us directly under Ben 
 Lomond. At Inversnaid we see his three neigh- 
 bors across the stream in perfection, the Messrs. 
 Vorlich, Vane and Crois, all Scotchmen, and not 
 to be beguiled from their stations.
 
 THE SCOTTISH LAKES. 133 
 
 From here until Ardlui we have the boat to 
 ourselves. This part of the lake, its head, is 
 seldom seen by tourists, as all excursions stop at 
 Inversnaid. Hence the delight of being a night 
 there. Its days of quiet are nearly passed, how- 
 ever, for I grieve to relate the fact that a railway 
 is being laid along Loch Lomond's western bank, 
 and as soon as the neigh of the iron horse is 
 heard in this land, in his train will follow that kind 
 of civilization antagonistic to ruralness and peace. 
 
 * * 
 * 
 
 Come with me to the beach and watch the sun- 
 set clouds with your face towards Ben Lomond. 
 See how long the twilight is in fading, and how 
 the mist falls upon the head of this mountain hero 
 until it covers him from our sight. No wonder he 
 finds it time to go to bed, for it is ten o'clock ! 
 
 * * 
 * 
 
 Inversnaid at eight-thirty in the morning is quite 
 another town from what it was with the sunset 
 glow upon it. Ben Lomond, too, is in shadow. 
 Let us cross the lake, rowed by a brawny old 
 Scotchman of Clan Campbell, aged seventy, to 
 visit Inveruglas Isle, and thus see the town from 
 there. This was once the headquarters of Clan 
 Macfarlane, and upon it are the ruins of their 
 feudal castle. Would we knew the language of
 
 134 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 the mountains, that we might ask the three Scotch 
 gentlemen, mentioned above, to tell us the tale of 
 this clan's rise and downfall. These very hills 
 have seen Rob Roy McGregor engaged in warfare 
 with the Macfarlanes, his bitter enemies, and yet, 
 pigmies that we are, we have no key to their store- 
 house of knowledge. 
 
 * * 
 
 * 
 
 Inversnaid Hotel at ten o'clock is the busiest 
 spot on the lake. On the boat from Glasgow 
 come a crowd of tourists, mostly Americans. 
 They must lose all the beauty of the scene in a 
 mad scrimmage for front or next best seats on 
 the coaches, and what with worry over luggage 
 the journey is begun before they have time to look 
 about. We have calmly viewed the waterfall at 
 one side, Loch Arklet's outlet and Rob Roy's 
 Cave upon the other, and secured front seats with 
 the most picturesque and best-natured coachman 
 in the world, one whose civility and kindness 
 caused him to be remembered for years, to wit : 
 Sandy Clelland. At ten o'clock he scrambles to 
 his box, as spry as a squirrel, despite his sixty 
 odd years, and presenting me with a gorgeous 
 Gloire-de-Dijon rose, plucked from the hedge, 
 snaps his whip, gives his peculiar call of hip-skid- 
 dish, ending in an inimitable whistle to his horses, 
 and we are off.
 
 THE SCOTTISH LAKES. 135 
 
 On the heathy moors is seen a gamekeeper's 
 exhibit of "varmin, Miss," as Sandy calls them, 
 for each head of which he gets a price. Here is 
 a list of them, with the game of which they are 
 the enemies : 
 
 GAME. ENEMIES. 
 
 Hare. Buzzard. 
 
 Grouse. Haddie. 
 
 Woodcock. Hawk. 
 
 Blackcock. Piet. 
 
 Pheasant. Weasel (pro. whisle). 
 
 Snipe. Fox. 
 
 Duck. Badger. 
 
 Capper Kelzie. Pole cat. 
 
 Pigeon. Wild cat. 
 
 The former hang along a pole, looking very 
 dead. This shooting belongs to the Duke of 
 Montrose, which he lets, as well as Loch Arklet, 
 in which are many trout. 
 
 * * 
 * 
 
 Helen McGregor's house, nestled in the side of 
 the hill near Glen Arklet, causes every head to 
 turn in that direction. I wondered if she would 
 have been at all known to us, had Sir Walter Scott 
 
 never written. 
 
 * * 
 * 
 
 Look with me to the east and see Ben Venue 
 and then Ben Ledi (pronounced Lady). Sandy
 
 136 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 points them out with pride and pleasure, and I 
 believe he is as genuine as if he had not done this 
 excursion every summer for over twenty years. 
 Near the road is the house of our whilom boat- 
 man, who has walked to Inversnaid, two miles, and 
 back every day for thirty-five years, and, despite 
 his age, has a crop of wonderful hair for so old 
 
 a man. 
 
 * * 
 * 
 
 Now Ben A'an bobs up serenely as we change 
 our direction on the road, while on either side in 
 green pastures, by cooling streams, wander the 
 long-haired cafe-o-lait Highland cattle, with frisky 
 
 sheep. 
 
 * * 
 * 
 
 Only too soon lovely Loch Katrine comes into 
 view. The drive in a few moments will be but a 
 memory, and yet one of the pleasantest to recall. 
 I would advise walking this five and one-half 
 miles, if one can take the time, as a coach does it 
 
 all too soon. 
 
 * * 
 
 * 
 
 Stronlacher, unfortunately, has a new hotel, in- 
 stead of the quaint and retired one of two years 
 ago. The proprietor and employees feel their 
 oats excessively. Beware of it, all ye who travel 
 here, and prepare yourself with luncheon else- 
 where. Sandwiches, costing eighteen cents, with
 
 THE SCOTTISH LAKES. 137 
 
 more mustard than meat, deplete your pocket-book 
 while they do not nourish the inner man. In fact, 
 you are quite sniffed at by the snippy maid at the 
 bar, probably because you do not choose to par- 
 take of the two-and-six dinner then on. The sand- 
 wiches, for a party of four, are brought one by 
 one. You object to their being wrapped in news- 
 paper, and finally get white paper. By this time a 
 number of people are also clamoring for sand- 
 wiches. One Englishman orders " Nine sand- 
 wiches, I say, give them me quick ! " You won- 
 der, does he dream of the price ! As the last one 
 of your order comes strolling in, with a sigh 'you 
 say to the elegant gentleman clerk : " Would you 
 allow me to pay you for four sandwiches?" feeling 
 sure he will say, " No, madam ; no filthy lucre ever 
 touches my elegant hands or that of my lady 
 assistants ? " But, to your surprise, he grabs the 
 vulgar silver you have tendered in payment and 
 almost forgets to return the change, while the 
 waiting crowds of your countrymen about the 
 window, smile at his airs and your complacency in 
 the face of them. 
 
 Out under the trees on one of Loch Katrine's 
 peninsulas you beguile Sandy Clelland, after he 
 has baited his horses. As he seats himself against
 
 138 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 a tree, our artist commences a water-color, which 
 proves a perfect picture. For fifteen minutes he 
 does not budge an inch, so proud is he at "bein" 
 done," and when we notice his hands are covered 
 with flies, we say: "You may move now." At 
 this he deliberately gives his strong thumbs a 
 rotary motion. "Fis finished just as the boat that 
 is to take us through the lake comes in sight, and 
 as he sees himself as others see him, in gray tile, 
 bright scarlet coat, and plaid vest, with his genial, 
 ruddy visage set in a frame of snow-white hair 
 and beard, he exclaims, with enthusiasm, " By 
 George, that's me, sure as life. I'll tell it to many 
 a person on my coach after this, how I was done." 
 In another moment he has his coach at the door 
 to welcome passengers to Loch Lomond, and we 
 see him drive off very soon, looking proud and 
 happy, while we are equally so at having the 
 
 sketch. 
 
 * * 
 
 * 
 
 Loch Katrine is so quickly navigated that all 
 should be well up in her scenery to know at least 
 when Ellen's Isle is passed. No one gives any 
 information on the boat, or tells you the mountain 
 peaks, but if you know "The Lady of the Lake" by 
 heart, Ben Ledi, Ben A'an and Ben Venue are all 
 old friends, and just a distant glimpse can be had 
 of the very tip of Ben Lomond. Ellen's Isle
 
 THE SCOTTISH LAKES. 139 
 
 is purple with heather, and while you enjoy in- 
 tensely the second sight of it, you sigh for just a 
 little more time to visit the braes of Balquidder so 
 near and yet so far at the present moment. 
 
 Two routes are now open to you, the most 
 mountainous and newest, via the Trosach Glen 
 and Aberfoyle to Stirling, and the more historic, 
 due to Scott's immortalizing pen, by the Trosach's 
 Glen past Loch Vennachar with Coilantogle Ford. 
 Callander, and Stirling at the finis. 
 
 Behind us on the coach an English clergyman 
 and his wife had the following conversation : 
 
 He " Those people in front are quoting ' Lady 
 of the Lake.' " 
 
 She "What is that, dear?" 
 
 He without any apparent surprise " Oh, a 
 poem, my dear, written by Scott years ago." 
 
 She " Indeed ! Have you read it, dear ? " 
 
 He " Yes." But he doesn't suggest she should. 
 
 * * 
 
 * 
 
 How the rain did come down once we were on 
 the coach ! and how I did wish for Yankee inven- 
 tiveness enough to make an umbrella with a 
 collapsible gutter to carry off the streams that 
 perforce wet one's shoulders, and almost do more 
 damage than the rain.
 
 140 A S WE SA W IT IN '90. 
 
 "Will it rain this way long, driver?" I ask. 
 
 "Thet I couldna tell, Miss ; seems like we may 
 have a wee bit shooer a bit further over the brae." 
 
 "Why, what do you call this, a sprinkle?" I 
 reply. 
 
 " Ah ! it's not much, this, me leddy, for it's the 
 finest day since May in this part." 
 
 As we reached the " brae," a very high hill to 
 me, the sun suddenly shot out from behind a 
 cloud, and in a jiffy all umbrellas were down and 
 we were all exclaiming over the extent of the view 
 and the beauty of Aberfoyle, a speck as yet far 
 below in the valley. 
 
 When it was reached, we were driven to the 
 hotel, but, refusing to alight, were driven to the 
 station, some distance off, where we dismounted 
 with our bags and wet rain-coats. 
 
 N. B. The object of halting at the hotel is best 
 known to the coachman and proprietor. If one 
 wishes to return to the hotel, there is plenty of 
 time after tickets are bought, or, if holding cou- 
 pons for round trip, " luggage is booked." 
 
 Aberfoyle is more famous to me for the reason 
 that Sandy Clelland was born and reared here 
 than for any other that I can give. From it Ben 
 Lomond's other side is seen gloriously, and Sandy
 
 THE SCOTTISH LAKES. 141 
 
 says it, and knows whereof he speaks, that " 'tis te 
 pest place to see Lomond from than any uther in. 
 
 te warrld." 
 
 * * 
 * 
 
 Here we take the train for Stirling and bid fare- 
 well to friends and chance acquaintances, whose 
 route takes them to Edinboro'. 
 
 * * 
 * 
 
 After the Rigi, I love best to see the sunset 
 from the top of the Back Walk at Stirling. Every 
 peak to which you have been so near on both 
 Lomond and Katrine stands boldly out, notwith- 
 standing the distance, and despite you seldom 
 quote, the first two lines from " Jessie, the Flower 
 of Dunblane," are upon your lips : 
 
 " The sun had gone down on lofty Ben Lomond, 
 And left its red glow to preside o'er the scene." 
 
 * * 
 
 * 
 
 A motley group ~of town children attract your 
 attention as they sing Scotch songs while playing 
 about on the edge of the huge rocks, upon which 
 Stirling Castle is built. The spryest of them all is 
 Mary Newells. She seems the Mother Superior 
 of the group, her staff of office a crutch much too 
 short for her, with the aid of which her one plump 
 leg manages to get over any amount of ground. 
 Poor child, she was so merry withal, that I asked
 
 142 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 her name and address in order to get her a new 
 crutch. This interested the entire clique, and 
 rather silenced them, as we went on towards the 
 cemetery. At last one gained courage to call out, 
 " Say, leddy, what's ye goin' to do wi' Mary's 
 number?" "No harm, Jeanie," I answered at 
 random, "she need not worry." This assurance 
 seemed to lighten their hearts, and I heard Mary 
 say : " She's got your name too, Jeanie Mac- 
 Donald, sure as fate. Do be quiet, and mend 
 yer manners, and stop yer giggling, so she'll 
 (with emphasis) think ye know beans." 
 
 In the cemetery we came upon the very small 
 grave of Dryburgh Binnie, son of John and Mary 
 Smith, and were told he was 
 
 " With Christ, which is far better." 
 
 His name no doubt was the death of him. 
 
 Via Callander and Killin is the quickest way to 
 get to Loch Tay, only I should suggest remaining 
 over night at Loch Earnhead on Loch Earn, which 
 has the prettiest setting of all Scotland's lake 
 gems, and going on to Killin to spend the day 
 there, and the next night at Kenmore. The route
 
 THE SCOTTISH LAKES. 143 
 
 by rail to Killin Junction is part of the way to 
 Oban, and one must be a clever observer in order 
 not to lose some of the glorious scenery en route. 
 
 In our carriage are two swells, too bored, 
 " dontcher know," to even look out. On the tip 
 top of the highest range of mountains I see a 
 horse in silhouette. " Isn't he a dear ! " I exclaim, 
 suddenly, at which they actually spring to their 
 feet, saying in unison, " Where did you see it? We 
 are expecting them up here to shoot at!" "A 
 dear horse," I explain. " Oh," they groan, " we're 
 on the look-out for game." And so was I. 
 
 Killin Junction commands the finest view of 
 Ben More, my favorite Scotch mountain, and one, 
 unfortunately, not very well known. Its summit, 
 white with snow, glistened beneath the sunshine, 
 and looked a veritable Pike's Peak in dignity. 
 
 Killin proper is the worst place the Fates could 
 send one to for the night, if the hotel is used. 
 But lodgings are reasonable. The town, however, 
 is very historic and most interesting, as being the 
 burial-place of Clan McNab, whose long line is 
 now extinct in this country, the last of that name 
 having gone to Canada.
 
 144 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 Loch Tay teems with memories to any one 
 familiar with "The Fair Maid of Perth," and 
 over all Ben Lawers presides alone and in his 
 
 glory. 
 
 * * 
 * 
 
 Kenmore is an ideal village. The Earl of 
 Breadalbane, a childless man, is kind to his people 
 and has made it evident. Here all the people 
 speak Gaelic among themselves, and even to their 
 horses. "You are speaking in English to that 
 horse, coachman," I said, as we drove after four 
 fine brutes to Aberfeldy, through the Valley of 
 the Tay. " 'Deed, I did, me leddy, he is a new 
 horse, and don't know Gaelic yet." 
 
 * * 
 * 
 
 From Aberfeldy there are two routes up to the 
 Grampians. The first by train to Blair Athol, 
 which takes one through the pass of Killecrankie, 
 the scenery of which is highly enjoyable. Then 
 on horseback, through wildly beautiful scenery, to 
 Braemar is a rare treat. 
 
 The second necessitates going by train to Dun- 
 keld, which route, for various reasons, we took. 
 On the way, we have our first sight of Scotch 
 birks, or birches, and in Dunkeld find the only 
 remnants of " Birnam woods which came to 
 Dunsinane."* 
 
 *In Macbeth.
 
 THE SCOTTISH LAKES. 145 
 
 The " Athol Arms " in the town, is very com- 
 fortable and more reasonable than the Royal. 
 From the latter, one must, however, engage places 
 ahead on the Braemar coach, which leaves every 
 morning, going via Blair Gowrie. 
 
 The shops are gay with plaids and scarfs of 
 every clan, and after a walk across the eagerly 
 rushing Tay, which divides the town, we begin 
 to realize we are on the threshold of the Grampian 
 Hills.
 
 LETTER IX. 
 
 IN THE GRAMPIANS. 
 
 77/1? Scotch l^our Ended at " Gray and Granite" Aberdeen 
 On a Coach-box in the Hills Braemar and Balmoral 
 The Brig o' Don English Tourists in Kilts. 
 
 ABERDEEN, SCOTLAND, August 25, 1890. 
 
 WHEN one is booked for an entire day's journey 
 on the morrow by coach, is there anything more 
 pathetic than to have a steady down-pour of rain 
 set in just at bed-time? It certainly requires a 
 deal of faith in Providence to calmly prepare for 
 rest, without taking thought for the morrow ; but 
 this is by far the wisest plan, as one discovers 
 when in an amazingly short time sunbeams knock 
 on one's eye-lids, to announce daybreak and fair 
 weather. Merry dancing sprites that they are, 
 would it were possible to tell them of the joy their 
 advent has given ! 
 
 Yes, the storm is a thing of the past, and, as if 
 cleansed by it, a perfect day has arisen, bright and 
 clear.
 
 IN THE GRAMPIANS. 147 
 
 " This weather is especially ordered for you, 
 Miss," says the manager of the Royal Hotel in 
 Dunkeld. 
 
 " For which I am truly grateful," I reply, as he 
 assists me to mount to my seat next the- driver, 
 a perch which two extra shillings have secured 
 for me. 
 
 " How about the coachman does he know all 
 the points of interest between here and Braemar?" 
 I call down to the manager as he steps back upon 
 the sidewalk, full of pride at seeing his coach 
 well filled. 
 
 " 'E ought, as 'e 'as gone this road this forty- 
 seven year 'as the driver," is his reply. 
 
 Just here our red-coated Jehu comes out, and, 
 after a look all around the coach and a few 
 directions about the luggage, he takes his place, 
 snaps his whip, and we are off. 
 
 A glance of the eye reveals the fact that he is 
 liable to be crusty, and the first question asked 
 shows me he is deaf. Alas ! it is difficult to 
 repress a sigh, and to smother a wish that is 
 uppermost in the mind, for jolly Sandy Clelland 
 of the Scotch Lakes. 
 
 Between Dunkeld and Blair Cowrie we pass 
 half a dozen lakes, varying in size and beauty, 
 about which our driver's forty-seven seasons have 
 not brought him any information, or us either.
 
 148 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 The village of Blair Gowrie, where we halt 
 before the principal inn, is evidently a favorite 
 summer resort, easily reached by rail from Perth 
 as well as by coach from Dunkeld. The driver 
 calls out, " Fifteen minutes to wait here ! " So we 
 dismount and go up a hilly street, from which the 
 town can be seen to advantage. On returning, we 
 buy such luscious red cherries, one of Perth- 
 shire's prides, and before remounting put on all 
 our wraps, as the air is clear and really cold, and 
 without the sunshine would be most trying. Then, 
 too, we shall have three hours steady coaching 
 before luncheon time, at the " Spital," or three- 
 quarters-of-the-way house, on the edge of the 
 Grampians. 
 
 The varied costumes of the summer visitors are 
 interesting. Women in short skirts, blouse-waists, 
 and the everlasting sailor hat (too small for the 
 head, worn tipped over the nose), go hither and 
 thither, with canes for climbing. Accompanying 
 them are men who display any discrepancies they 
 may possess in their underpinning by wearing 
 kilts. One can tell they are not to the manner 
 born, for their knees really look blue from ex- 
 posure, and no doubt they feel as uncomfortable 
 as they look. 
 
 I said we had fifteen minutes to wait ! And -so 
 we had, with three times fifteen minutes added to it.
 
 Iff THE GRAMPIANS. 149 
 
 Yes ; nearly one whole hour were we ready to 
 start. At last it was found out that the delay was 
 caused by some passengers who were left at Perth, 
 and, this being the only through coach, had tele- 
 graphed it to wait. 
 
 After the hour had passed, the passengers 
 informed the driver it was preposterous to wait 
 any longer, so he mounted and drove slowly 
 toward the station. Of course he was very irate 
 at the delay, and had employed his time during 
 the wait by growling and stamping about in a very 
 mad manner. 
 
 At a turn in the road, we were rewarded by 
 three passengers, one very fat woman 'and two 
 men, who mounted and had luggage put on, and 
 altogether took up another half hour. 
 
 As they settled themselves, the fat woman asked 
 calmly, how it happened the coach waited. 
 
 " Had she not telegraphed ? " was the general 
 exclamation. 
 
 " No, by no means," she replied. 
 
 Then one of the men said he had already 
 engaged a trap to take him his journey before 
 seeing the coach, so, as the second man remained 
 silent and looked most unconcerned, we all 
 concluded he was the man to whom we were 
 indebted for such a delay. Thinking I might like 
 to get the coach sometime from Perth, I asked the
 
 150 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 driver if he waited for people in this way as a 
 usual thing. 
 
 " No," he replied. " 'Hit depends upon cir- 
 cumstances, and never 'as Hi know 'appened be- 
 fore," which reply made the occurrence seem all 
 the more mysterious. 
 
 The beauty of the scenery now occupies us 
 fully. It is both grand and romantic ; in fact, the 
 most varied we have seen, its climax being the 
 curious old mansion, perched like an eagle's nest 
 upon a huge rock overlooking a ravine lined with 
 birks and many other trees, which Sir Walter Scott 
 took for his model of Tully Veolan in " Waverley." 
 Seeing our enthusiasm, Sims (the coachman) he 
 has informed us that he does not belong to any 
 clan really rises to the occasion and points out 
 the cave where Mr. Bradwardine was in hiding. 
 
 " Then you have read ' Waverley ? ' " I ask. 
 
 " No, not ezacly, Miss ; you see I beant only 
 one-'alf Scotch, but I 'av 'card many a people as 
 rides along wi' me tell about it, and so I 'as got 
 'noculated, so to speak." 
 
 " Have you had many people this season ? " I 
 continued, seeing he seems willing to talk. 
 
 " Poorest season we ever 'ad," he promptly an- 
 swers. " Why, perhaps, you would not believe me, 
 but this 'ere's the first really loaded coach and fine 
 day I've 'ad since the season came on in June."
 
 IN THE GRAMPIANS. 151 
 
 " Do you have to take this long drive just the 
 same, whether you have none, or only one or 
 two ? " I ask. 
 
 " Yes, just the same ; hit's been a fine sayson for 
 brides and grooms, I can tell ye. I've gone back- 
 'ards and for'ards with several on 'em, 'aving the 
 'ole coach to theirselves, and I a keepin' me heyes 
 turned strictly 'on me 'osses," was his answer, 
 ungarnished with even a twinkle from his eye. 
 
 The scenery, which has grown bleak and stern, 
 coincides exactly with our feelings by this time, for 
 want of food in such a bracing air dampens the 
 spirits of even the most ardent sightseer ; but 
 before many minutes the " Spital " is reached and 
 we are at luncheon. 
 
 Once refreshed and warmed, after a drive of 
 thirty miles, we begin to see some beauty in our 
 surroundings, and a great desire possesses us to 
 remain here one night at least. A through ticket 
 prevents us, but we certainly will do it next time. 
 Yes, it is, next to a night on the Rigi, the most des- 
 olate situation imaginable, and the most restful 
 too far, far away, as it is, from trains, telegrams, 
 trunks (we had forwarded all luggage) and tumult, 
 surrounded by heather-covered hills and canopied 
 by the bluest sky imaginable. 
 
 As we are packed on the coach again it is after 
 three o'clock, and Braemar cannot be reached
 
 152 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 before seven. However we will soon be in the 
 Grampian Mountains, whose peaks are in sight, 
 and with this promised land held out as a reward, 
 we are patient, and fully enjoy the beauty each 
 new turn in the road discloses. 
 
 Within one hour of Braemar it becomes sud- 
 denly very cold, as we ascend five hundred feet in 
 less than half an hour, around the Devil's Elbow, 
 a most abrupt and precipitous turn in the road. 
 All the men dismount and walk to the top. Now 
 quite as suddenly comes the descent, in less than 
 half the time, which takes us out of the mountains 
 into a broad and green valley. Off come the 
 wraps and all is changed. The scenery is gentle 
 and undulating, a new moon looks out of a sunlit 
 sky, and the Grampian Mountains, of which we 
 have heard ever since we could repeat, " My name 
 is Norval," are directly before us, three of their 
 peaks snow-covered. Once seen they can never 
 be forgotten. 
 
 The one covered with cairns is unique and 
 becomes the favorite. In fact, this is the 
 land of cairns and cairn-gorms. The former 
 "bob up serenely" from every elevation in com- 
 memoration of some event in the life of each mem- 
 ber of the royal family. Just at present, however, 
 we would much rather see one red deer than many 
 cairns, and confess as much to the coachman.
 
 IN THE GRAMPIANS. 153 
 
 " I'll show ye one if I see 'hit in time," he 
 promises. 
 
 " Why don't we see any of the rams with double 
 and twisted horns, as well?" I ask. 
 
 "They are kept shut up," he answers. 
 
 In a few moments I felt a poke in the ribs, and 
 he, pointing towards a corner of a field, says, 
 i( There are some of your friends," and, behold, a 
 ram, a dam and a lamb, gracefully posed, just as 
 Verboeckhoven loved to depict them. 
 
 " A deer, a deer ! " the cry rings out. 
 
 "Where, coachman?" I ask. 
 
 " Oh, Miss," they be foolin' ye ; 'tis only a 
 wooden deer up there a bit awa' on the mountain 
 to shoot at for practice." 
 
 " Never mind, I am bound to see a deer, wooden 
 or not, and you should have showed it to me," 
 I say. 
 
 " Ah, nay, I could not tell a lee, for a' that. No 
 more would I," is his Puritanic reply. 
 
 Just at this point, the man who had evidently 
 held the coach, turned, and addressing the driver 
 as " Feyther," spoke rapidly to him in Gaelic. As 
 quick as a flash, the delay was explained. 
 
 " Is that your son ? " I ask. 
 
 As he squirmed and got very red in the face, 
 Sims had to tell the truth and say :
 
 J54 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 " Yes, 'es comin' 'ome for a 'oliday. But 'ow 
 did ye know 'im ?" 
 
 " I've had my doubts all along about you not 
 wanting to wait this morning," I answered, " and 
 yet you could not call a wooden deer a real deer, 
 just for fun." 
 
 " That's different, me leddy," was all he could 
 answer. 
 
 And I thought so, too, as I discontinued the con- 
 versation, disgusted with a man who would act 
 but could not tell a lie, and who was so peculiarly 
 constituted that he still thought he had done no 
 wrong. Moral : if you ever take this trip while 
 Sims is on the road, don't pay three shillings extra 
 for a seat by him, as the added fee of two shillings 
 for his morosity is compulsory, no matter where 
 you sit. 
 
 After this my attention was divided between the 
 approach to Braemar and an amusing species of 
 Englishman who has ventured to ask during the 
 day : 
 
 " Do you know the language of flowers ? " in a 
 very die-a-way voice, and " Are not men less apt 
 to be flirts than women ? " 
 
 Referring him to a quotation from one of Mark 
 Lemon's clever sayings, I am rather surprised by 
 his answer :
 
 IN THE GRAMPIANS. 155 
 
 " Yes, I have heard of Mark Lemon my father 
 was his cousin." 
 
 The descent upon Braemar is made with a flour- 
 ish, and 'tis easy to realize what a meeting-place 
 this was for the clans in dim and distant days. 
 The caterwauling sound of a bagpipe strikes the 
 ear as the Fife Arms is reached. 
 
 Finding this full, lodgings are sought for. The 
 post-office sends you to the village butcher, who 
 directs you to Mrs. Ewan, " hup hon Castleton 
 terrace, back of the town." Her pretty daughter 
 shows you the clean bedrooms, while the mother 
 takes the order for dinner. 
 
 Then out we go a-shopping, first to the butch- 
 er's ; then, after a stroll through the village, to the 
 green grocer's and baker's, and then to the dry 
 grocer's. The shepherd's plaidies in this shop set 
 us so agog that we are near forgetting to buy tea, 
 coffee, white sugar, cheese, and a can of Keiler's 
 marmalade for over Sunday. 
 
 This grocery is a homelike institution, since we 
 are waited upon by the owner, his wife, his daugh- 
 ter, and his son. A youth entering takes away the 
 attention of the daughter. 
 
 " Give me sixpence worth of sweets," he says. 
 
 She does up some striped what children in 
 America call "bull's eyes" for him. 
 
 Hesitating a moment, he adds, " Please give me
 
 156 AS WE SAIV IT IN '90. 
 
 a tuppence ha'penny's worth of stomach-ache 
 medicine." 
 
 Mechanically she puts up a small box of pills, 
 and I then notice that the window contains bottles 
 of drugs. 
 
 Ahead of us has gone the meat, with a bill 
 dedicated to " Mrs. Ewan's lodgers," and upon 
 returning to the terrace a most homelike dinner is 
 ready for our consideration. 
 
 The terrace in front of the house commands a 
 fine view, and from it we can see the very spot 
 where Prince Charlie was proclaimed King of the 
 Scots, and where the royal standard was planted 
 by his firm but mistaken adherent, the brave Earl 
 of Mar. 
 
 How different it is now ! The man who has 
 possession of the very property of this once mighty 
 earl is no less a person than the quondam earl, 
 now Duke of Fife, the Queen's grandson-in-law. 
 
 Sunday morning the village is astir by the time 
 the four churches begin ringing their rival bells. 
 They are the Established Church, the Free 
 Church, the Episcopal Church, and the Roman 
 Catholic Church, and it is a study to watch the 
 great variety of people en route for one or the 
 other. 
 
 Just across the street, beneath a picturesque 
 bridge, runs a busy stream that turns several mills
 
 IN THE GRAMPIANS. 157 
 
 in its course. People on our side of it all seem 
 bound for the churches over in the other part 
 of the town, while those from that side come 
 toward us. 
 
 In the afternoon, piloted by an English gentle- 
 man we met on the coach, we go for a walk of 
 five miles, over the " Queen's Drive." He has 
 taken the same walk before breakfast in the morn- 
 ing, but does not mind at all doing it again, by 
 way of showing us the route. The path for the 
 first two miles, being in between bushes of heather 
 and gorse, gives us an opportunity to practice the 
 " heather step," a prancing gait, something after 
 that of a horse. Suddenly we are aware that our 
 blue sky has clouded over, and that a rain is fall- 
 ing, which means three miles more in a Scotch 
 mist quite the thing, you know ! 
 
 It does come down ! Steadily, perseveringly, 
 damply ! We try to hold up umbrellas, but this, 
 with petticoats and an armful of heather and wild 
 flowers, which grow in tantalizing profusion here, 
 is impossible, so we give them up, or put them 
 down rather, and return wet nay, simply drip- 
 ping. Mrs. Ewan is used to this, and soon we are 
 tucked up in bed, our chrysalides of clothes hanging 
 in different attitudes in front of her queer kitchen 
 fire, while we, on the strength of a Scotch whisky- 
 sling, go off to dreamland.
 
 158 AS IV E SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 Big heads and sore throats next morning, do I 
 hear you say ? Not at all. We are up with the 
 lark, and off for Ballater, via Balmoral, as blithe as 
 can be. 
 
 This drive of two hours, through a soft undulat- 
 ing scenery, with the mountains at a respectful 
 distance, as if standing one side to allow of our 
 departure, is delightful. An intelligent man on 
 the box-seat, as well as a very jolly coachman, is 
 also an advantage. 
 
 Many extensive private parks are passed, one of 
 these being rented for the shooting, by Sir Alger- 
 non Borthwick, editor of the London Morning 
 Post, for ^4,000 sterling. This price gives him 
 the right to kill forty stags and two hundred 
 hinds, and evidently he finds journalism lucrative. 
 
 All sorts of people and conveyances are encoun- 
 tered. One summer visitor is so greatly bereaved 
 that she has a band of crepe on her mackintosh, as 
 well as on a white sailor hat. 
 
 Black polled Angus, or hornless cattle, with 
 long-horned cafe au lait bullocks, form uncon- 
 scious pictures in the meadows at either side of the 
 firm macadamized road, which is perfected by its 
 hedges of holly and hawthorn. Along the roadside 
 grow wild thyme, pig's pettitoes, a small bright 
 yellow flower, and, of course dogroses, white 
 and pink.
 
 IN THE GRAMPIANS. 159 
 
 Despite the fact that we are fifteen hundred 
 feet above the sea, and that this is the highest 
 cultivated land in Great Britain, every inch blos- 
 soms, and gives promise of fine returns. The only 
 signs of decay are in the many tumble-down 
 thatched cottages, which the cotters have been 
 forced to leave. The reason is quite evident when 
 one hears of the tremendous prices paid the land- 
 lords for these very premises for shooting, which, 
 if inhabited, would be quite useless for such 
 purposes. 
 
 Balmoral is rather a disappointment on account 
 of being situated in a valley, with the Grampians 
 at a distance from it, rather than on a mountain. 
 Near by is Abergeldie, the shooting-box or High- 
 land home the Queen allows the Prince of Wales. 
 The driver showed us a bridge lately built over 
 the stream upon which it is situated, saying, " Be- 
 fore that was put there the royal mail used to be 
 shot across from the house in a bag on a wire. 
 Now he has a pillar to put his mail in." 
 
 '* What is that lying over in the meadows that 
 looks so red ? " I ask. 
 
 "Bless my soul, if that isn't the ryal (royal) 
 pillar now, gone on a 'oliday and got 'toxicated ! " 
 he exclaimed, chuckling with laughter. " We 
 ought to let 'is 'ighness knosv 'ow 'is 'ighland 
 pillar is be'avin' of itself in 'is habsence."
 
 160 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 At Ballater our excursion ends, and the noise 
 and tumult of railroading begins ; more's the pity ! 
 The ride to Aberdeen is tiresome, because it is 
 omnibus, but we are enabled by slow travel to 
 notice the country and the people, especially the 
 latter, who are still taking their holidays. 
 
 The military, in brilliant red coats, are numerous 
 in this vicinity. One poor fellow had his arm so 
 out of place that it is noticeable from the cars, 
 although he is walking up a hill at a distance 
 from the station. Has the lady in white with him 
 a red sash ? No, as I have said, his arm is out 
 of place. 
 
 The fields in the vicinity of Aberdeen are pre- 
 sided over by lady (not gentleman) scarecrows, 
 whose fluttering gowns are quite a novelty, and 
 a diminutive golden-rod tries to look as tall as 
 possible. 
 
 I refrain from any remarks about gray and 
 granite Aberdeen, because I arrived there on a 
 tradesman's holiday ; but I can say that its sur- 
 roundings are delightful, for I took a tram and 
 went out to the Brig o' Balgownie or old bridge 
 of Don, one-half mile from the town, and to its 
 granite cathedral near by, which plainly shows its 
 antiquity. 
 
 On the train a tradesman in his best bib and 
 tucker offered to show us where the cathedral was.
 
 IN THE GRAMPIANS. 161 
 
 I, thanking him, said : " We can find the way, no 
 doubt." 
 
 "Yes," he replied, "but if I did not have my 
 wife and children along I should be very pleased 
 to keep you company." 
 
 As we descended from the train he got down 
 ahead of us and, in some miraculous way, had 
 marshaled his entire brood out before we reached 
 terra firma. As I turned hastily aside with my 
 friends, who were choking with laughter at his 
 desire to be polite, he called out : " This is Mrs. 
 Smith and the children, ladies ; we'll show you the 
 way to the cathedral." 
 
 We thanked him, bowed to Mrs. Smith, and by 
 degrees got out of their sight, when, to our con- 
 fusion, he came puffing up, dragging one boy 
 beside him. 
 
 " Ladies, please," he ejaculated, " Mrs. Smith 
 says she can't walk as fast as you do, but keep to 
 the left and we will meet you at the cathedral." 
 
 By good luck, rather than good management, we 
 missed them by a hair's-breadth at the cathedral, 
 which was a great relief. 
 
 Its shipping makes Aberdeen most picturesque 
 along its wharves, and brings to it many men of 
 many minds and complexions. One could spend 
 several days most pleasantly here, visiting the
 
 162 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 universities and investigating its quaint by-corners, 
 and another time, under less turbulent circum- 
 stances, I hope to know it better. As it is, 
 Arbroath and St. Andrews seem rriore attractive, 
 and to them we are bound, with Edinboro' glori- 
 ous hill-girt city that it is reserved for the bonne 
 bouche of a most perfect Scotch tour.
 
 LETTER X. 
 ON THE CONTINENT. 
 
 A Very Smooth Voyage Across the German Ocean Dusseldorf 
 and the Rhine Peculiarities of Tourists Mr. Depew in 
 the Frankfort Station Railway Adventures. 
 
 NUREMBERG, August 15, 1890. 
 
 FROM the Grampians to Antwerp is considered 
 a long journey on this side of the ocean, but to 
 an American it makes up in interest what it lacks 
 in distance, especially when the eastern coast 
 English cathedrals have been taken en route. 
 Then, too, crossing the German Ocean, when a 
 vow has been made never to do it again, proves 
 quite different from a former experience, a horrible 
 recollection many smooth passages can never 
 efface. That time it was made by night, and was 
 indeed a nightmare. Instead of letting me go to 
 sleep, the ship tried to rest itself. First she would 
 lie down on her right side, and just as she seemed 
 most comfortably fixed, would flop over on to the 
 other. Then, like a restless child, she would fling 
 off all the clothes and stand on her two feet, after
 
 164 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 which, in trying to turn a somersault, she would 
 reverse herself. Then of a sudden, gathering all 
 her forces, she would make a clean leap out of the 
 water altogether, and then go down to see her 
 mermaid friends among the deep sea-weeds. It 
 was certainly awful ! 
 
 This time, however, the crossing was made by 
 day, from Dover to Ostend, on one of the fine new 
 steamers, with the water as smooth as the Niagara 
 River on a quiet day in summer. Four hours were 
 consumed in going from land to land, and after 
 a superficial examination of luggage, the train was 
 soon whirling us on toward Antwerp. 
 
 From the car window there is much to see, for 
 everything .is changed ; people, language, atmos- 
 phere and scenery, each contributes its share. Our 
 flight over the iron rails reveals, of course, many 
 pictures never to be forgotten while memory lasts 
 here a windmill full of motion ; there lazy Hoi- 
 steins grazing at will ; now men and women in 
 picturesque costumes, toiling side by side on the 
 perfectly tilled farms, beyond, fields of rare flowers, 
 brilliant with blossoms. 
 
 Bruges and Ghent also can be well seen, as to 
 belfry and steeples, from the car windows, and 
 this glimpse awakens recollections of past days 
 which were spent in exploring their quaint streets 
 and -buildings.
 
 ON THE CONTINENT. 165 
 
 Antwerp is en fete upon our arrival, as it was 
 just eight years ago exactly. The streets are gay 
 with bunting, and the Cathedral has a statue of 
 the Virgin enthroned and dressed in gorgeous 
 bejeweled robes out in the nave, surrounded with 
 masses of rare flowers, for 'tis the anniversary of 
 the Assumption. 
 
 Weeks might be spent in Antwerp and the 
 neighborhood instead of days ; but we are en route 
 for Oberammergau for a certain date, and must 
 be expeditious, on account of having taken our 
 time in Great Britain. 
 
 Dusseldprf was entirely a new experience, and 
 a most comfortable bed was obtained in the Prinz 
 Alexander Hof not at all far from the station. 
 
 The journey thither from Antwerp was a varied 
 experience. In the first place, all the trains are slow, 
 and, secondly, I discovered that this route took us 
 through the very most southeastern part of Hol- 
 land, which necessitated having luggage examined 
 in both Holland and Prussia within one hour, as 
 well as changing carriages. Fortunately, our con- 
 ductor was a perfect Godsend, for he watched over 
 us most carefully, when we had to ivechselt die 
 Wagen, and finally came into our carriage, and, 
 finding we had only Flemish money, changed it 
 into German marks, kreutzers, etc. 
 
 These are not as pleasant to use as francs and
 
 i66 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 centimes, but are preferable to the English pounds, 
 shillings and pence ; besides one can buy more 
 with them, as the ten-kreutzer piece is by no 
 means the smallest, there being five, two, and even 
 one kreutzer coppers, which are smaller than an 
 American one-cent piece. They are worth more, 
 however, since things of small value are certainly 
 cheaper here than in other countries. 
 
 The third-class railway fares are also much less 
 than in England, and as a lady can travel third- 
 class in Flanders, Germany, and Austria, the long 
 distances are not such a drain on one's pocket-book. 
 The only way, however, to do this in comfort 
 is to get in a carriage reserved for " Frauen" 
 where no man dare enter, or in one that is marked 
 " Nichts rauchen" no smoking. These carriages are 
 all wooden and quite uncushioned ; but they are 
 clean, and a small pillow or air-cushion makes 
 them very comfortable. In fact, they are sure to be 
 clean, while the upholstered ones are sure not to 
 be. Then, too, one is not subject to the smoking 
 fiend, who is in his element in Germany. One 
 meets him in first and second-class carriages, as 
 well as third, and while a fine cigar is not bad in 
 its place, to have one that has been half smoked 
 relit, and that a very cheap one, is enough to 
 aggravate a saint. Then, they do not smoke it, 
 and stop, but hold it between their fingers, where
 
 ON THE CONTINENT. 167 
 
 it smoulders continually, throwing out a disgusting 
 smudge. 
 
 This smoking goes on everywhere in Ger- 
 many, and I am glad I can endure it without 
 being ill. I have seen a man over his morn- 
 ing coffee with one of the rankest cigars nearly, 
 if not jquite, fifteen inches long, in his mouth. 
 I have seen him asleep in the cars with one 
 equally long held in his teeth, and, of course, it 
 is allowable for him to light it, and puff the smoke 
 into one's face at the dinner-table, or table d'hote, 
 while one is in the act of eating ice-cream, with 
 which "smoke does not exactly amalgamate. 
 
 However, with a fortunately happy disposition 
 and a great thankfulness that one does not have 
 to live here forever, the places one has come so far 
 to see are thoroughly enjoyed, and among them 
 Dusseldorf is by no means the least. Its system 
 of trams is good, since they run in every direction, 
 and, as in other cities, the fare is much lower than 
 in America. 
 
 Two broad avenues shaded by immense trees, 
 among which are fountains and statues of brave 
 and renowned men, must be threaded in going 
 about the city, and these both terminate in a fine 
 park, or hofgarten, from which, at the Belvedere, 
 the Rhine is overlooked. 
 
 Near here is the immense building formerly
 
 168 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 containing many famous pictures now removed 
 to Munich. Insistence will gain one admission to 
 see all that remains, viz.: some very rare wood-cuts 
 and engravings, a Rubens "Assumption," and the 
 fine Ramboux collection of water-colors. 
 
 The modern masters are well represented in the 
 new Art Gallery, a fine and imposing building in 
 the city, opposite the theater. 
 
 The gem of this collection is quite small, but 
 of great value, a picture that attracts attention at 
 once and enchains everybody, and yet it is of 
 only a very ragged and dirty child, sitting on 
 a bare floor. The wall-paper above the rotten 
 baseboard, hangs in strips, indicative of poverty, 
 and yet, with one old shoe in his mouth, his own 
 tiny red-stockinged feet out at heels, and an 
 old hat by his side, he is monarch of aU he 
 surveys. With blue eyes brimful of happiness 
 he looks one full in the face, as if truly alive ; 
 and seeing how much it is appreciated the 
 guardian in blue coat, red vest, and . cocked hat 
 gives the information, accompanied with plenty of 
 gesticulation, that " das ist von Knaus, and kostet 
 five tousand tollars," which endeavor to speak 
 English is rewarded by a smile and the whole of 
 fifty pfennigs. This evidently pleased him, as he 
 not only touched his hat, but said : " Dank bit
 
 ON THE CONTINENT. 169 
 
 schone" with three jerks, and went off, bring- 
 ing in a few moments a catalogue. 
 
 Very soon music in the street attracts us out 
 on to a balcony, by which, file after file of Hussars 
 pass, all mounted, even the band, and dressed in 
 green uniform. The officers wear blue coats, 
 which, with green trousers, do not produce a har- 
 monious effect, but they look as smart as they feel, 
 no doubt, and present a fine appearance. 
 
 By the time Cologne is reached all luggage 
 over what we can carry ourselves has become an 
 intolerable nuisance, no matter how small the 
 trunk, and we are wishing it at the bottom of the 
 Red Sea ! 
 
 For two journeys my tickets were the same 
 price, and my very small trunk, which had never 
 been opened, varied fifty pounds in weight. 
 Really I did not know what I was worth ; such 
 fluctuation quite dazed me, and remonstrance was 
 all in vain. What does a Cologne man care for 
 an Antwerpian's weight. His scales are right ! 
 Thus I meekly spill out my marks into his eager 
 hand, and take my place in the train. 
 
 While viewing the sacred remains of St. Ursula 
 in Cologne and her eleven thousand virgin friends 
 in the church of the same name, it occurred to me 
 that possibly she might have had luggage too, 
 when she journeyed through the land, and I asked
 
 iyo AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 the very solemn verger, who seemed to know her 
 entire history from A to Z, if he supposed she 
 carried such an incubus. (Don't ask me to explain 
 how I made him understand what I meant, I beg 
 of you.) Still looking most solemn, he said : 
 " I am about dat not so very sure, as no one me 
 has before ever the question asked." One thing 
 I was glad of. My query had made him break 
 forth into English, which gave me great pleasure 
 it to hear. 
 
 Cologne Cathedral is most truly grand in ils 
 perfection, and as to the reputed odors of the 
 city, I believe the competition between all the 
 only genuine Farinas has so purified the air, that 
 further remarks upon the subject are quite out of 
 order. 
 
 Please bear with me while I pay my tribute to 
 the Rhine, which gave me one whole day of 
 pleasure. At first I was full of regret that short 
 stops were not to be made between Cologne and 
 Mayence ; but when the day was done it seemed 
 the very way to have seen it for the first time, 
 since now I know its most beauteous spots, and 
 can some day visit it piecemeal more intelligently. 
 
 As usual with us, the day was a perfect one, 
 and, of course, the well-equipped steamer was full 
 to overflowing. This, during the monotonous
 
 ON THE CONTINENT. 171 
 
 part, between the Drachenfels and Coblenz, gave 
 us a chance for much amusement. 
 
 Brides and grooms from many nations were 
 on hand and had no end of trouble changing 
 their seats, so as to be both secluded and in the 
 shade. As to the scenery, they might as well 
 have been on any other stream for all they knew 
 or cared about their surroundings. 
 
 The German families, in groups of five and 
 seven, with two or three daughters all dressed the 
 same, were not missing. One family had a son 
 Hans. He drew all the mountain-peaks in a book, 
 and of course was an aspiring artist. The family 
 liked him and were openly proud of him, even if 
 he was thin and sallow, with his face a mass of 
 blotches. He wore a Vandykeish hat and a 
 mantleish sort of cloak, and we fancied ' perhaps 
 he was the last of the Hanseatic League, from his 
 first name. 
 
 Then the " Gazes " and " Cookies " were well 
 represented. The former we selected easily, be- 
 cause they all went to sleep and did not gaze, and 
 the latter because they were all dough-faced. 
 One Gaze found a soft spot on the canvas thrown 
 over the trunks and bags, out in the sunshine on 
 deck. There, undisturbed and serene, he slum- 
 bered during the best part of the river, so that 
 when twilight fell, and we all looked weary, he
 
 172 
 
 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 was the most refreshed-looking man on board. 
 Another got back of a seat, and with head in his 
 
 Oi'R WACHT ( ? ) AM RHINE. 
 
 hands and both toes turned in, which were visible 
 under the bench, he also took his ease, while we 
 were going from end to end of the steamer,
 
 ON THE CONTINENT. 173 
 
 wearing ourselves out, just because we were afraid 
 of losing a castle or two. He had also remem- 
 bered to bring, what we had forgotten, a novel to 
 read. So that when he awakened, not having been 
 told by the conductor, who was conspicuous in 
 blue uniform, with " Gaze " in bright letters on his 
 hat, to " gaze on this picture and then on that," 
 he calmly read "The Cost of a Lie," and really 
 enjoyed it, imperturbed by the inquisitive sight- 
 seers about him. 
 
 Such is life on a Rhine boat ! At two o'clock 
 three-fourths of the passengers went below to 
 spend an hour at table d'hbte. A lady told me 
 later that she sat next to the Gaze guide, and that, 
 as he helped himself to two-thirds of every dish, 
 she fared badly. 
 
 At five o'clock all the English folk on board 
 declared their nationality by having " afternoon 
 tea." How they did enjoy it ! 
 
 At Coblenz the very dearest little English lady 
 and two .clever companions went away from us. 
 We had only chatted for a short time together, 
 but the admiration for each other was mutual, and 
 when, just as she was leaving, I asked her name, 
 she quickly gave me her card, saying : " Miss 
 
 , Upper Norwood, London. Do come and 
 
 see me some time. You can't help finding me 
 for I am as well known there as the Crystal
 
 174 AS IV E SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 Palace." She had been in America, knew Niagara 
 Falls and the Berkshire Hills, and admired them 
 "no end," as she said. 
 
 As to the river, which charmed and fully 
 satisfied every anticipation, far abler pens have 
 long since described it in words which are now 
 more precious than gold. But this first sight of it 
 was entirely mine own experience, and all the day 
 Heine's " Holiday on the Rhine," which Schumann 
 alone could have set to music, rang in my ears. 
 Next to the sunshine which made every leaf upon 
 the vine-clad hills rejoice, we liked the absence of 
 what it was feared would be present, the leetle, 
 very much out of tune, jangling German band. 
 
 In St. Goar and straggling Neiderheimbach we 
 left bits of our heart, as we drifted by, while we 
 faithfully promised ourselves a sojourn in both 
 places. 
 
 As the boat approached Bingen, the statue of 
 Germania looms on the opposite heights and we 
 all exclaimed, " There's the ' wacht ' the story- 
 tellers say the tourist went up and down the 
 Rhine looking for, but never found." 
 
 By this time the twilight has the better of the 
 day, and it is chilly, so we hastily decide to disem- 
 bark and go to Mayence by train ; hence the 
 day was properly finished in a vine-covered cafe in 
 Mayence, over a glass of Ruedersheim, less sour
 
 ON THE CONTINENT. 175 
 
 and more sparkling than any other Rhine wine. 
 Especially do we appreciate it now, that the very 
 banks upon which it grows to perfection have 
 been seen. 
 
 A day in Frankfort gave ample time to see its 
 art treasures and its famous " Ariadne," as well as 
 to drive about the city on broad and shaded 
 avenues, and over its bridges, old and new. From 
 these the very old houses, built upon the river 
 without doors or windows, to prevent smuggling, 
 can be seen to advantage ; but the old Jew quarter 
 is a thing of the past, and is now being built over 
 in a modern style. 
 
 The new station, only two years old, is in an 
 unsettled part of the city and is magnificent in 
 proportions. Chauncey M. Depew was strolling 
 about in it, as we were buying our tickets for 
 Heidelberg, and I am quite sure he felt the New 
 York Central station could not compare with it, 
 and trust it suggested some new ideas to him. 
 
 He did not tell us, but we saw the next day in a 
 paper, that he had just been dining with the Prince 
 of Wales in Homburg. The invitation sent our 
 quartette by " Whales " did not reach us in time 
 otherwise we should have arranged to spend a 
 week in Homburg. As it was, we went to see an 
 equally big swell, the Heidelberg tun, and were 
 quite impressed with its royal highness.
 
 176 AS WE SAW IT IN '9G. 
 
 Two warnings I would give to a stranger in this 
 rarest of German towns. Don't be beguiled into 
 staying in any other than the Schloss Hotel, and 
 don't believe that the new inclined railway will 
 take you to its door. From the station a carriage 
 or the hotel omnibus should be taken, as the rail- 
 way is only good for the Molken Cur or Milk 
 Cure, from which height one looks down upon the 
 castle. 
 
 A dense canopy of clouds discharged itself upon 
 the town just at six o'clock. From back of this 
 the sun set, red and huge, and by degrees it was 
 rolled back until only the blue sky was seen, but 
 not until a rainbow gave promise for the morrow. 
 Then in the sunset glow we wandered about in the 
 castle, the grandest and most impressive ruin I 
 have ever seen, until the moon, still in its first 
 quarter, arose to preside over the scene. 
 
 From my bedroom window, many feet above the 
 castle, the brilliantly lit town and restless Necker 
 lay before me, at the base of the castle. Not 
 until the moon had gone from my sight, behind 
 the mountains which tower in every direction, was 
 it possible to say good-night to a scene so rare, 
 for a sojourn in dreamland. This was reached 
 through the quieting medium of the wind moan- 
 ing out its version of the tales anent old castle 
 days poured into our willing ears that evening
 
 ON THE CONl^INENT. 177 
 
 by our guide, Frau Ziegler, in her pretty broken 
 English. 
 
 Many drives may be taken about these wonder- 
 ful mountains. One at least should be indulged 
 in before the full beauty of Heidelberg's situation 
 can be realized. The descent to the town through 
 many zigzags in the road is enchanting, and when 
 the handsome, blonde porter of the hotel greets us 
 at the station with a budget of home letters, our 
 happiness is complete. 
 
 The route between here and Nuremberg is not 
 of especial interest, therefore we read our letters 
 and finally got up a small excitement for our own 
 amusement. As the train draws into Ansbach, 
 the much-dreaded cry of " Alles austeigen ! " rings 
 out, and we are emptied from our car, bag and 
 baggage. As the other train comes in we find, to 
 our consternation, no third-class cars are attached, 
 so, after a frantic scramble up and down the plat- 
 form, and the using of much very bad German, we 
 get into a second-class " damen coupe." A new 
 conductor comes to see our tickets before closing 
 the doors, and to our horror he announces the fact 
 that we cannot go on. 
 
 " Why not ? " we demand in chorus. 
 
 " Because you have third-class tickets ! Come 
 out sehr quick ; the train must go ! " he said in the 
 howlingest tone of voice he could summon.
 
 178 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 " Indeed I shall not," I answer ; " here is gelt ; 
 what more do you want ? " 
 
 . Seeing we were not emigrants, he dispatched 
 three blue-coated officials, one to hold the train, 
 one to inquire the price of extra tickets, and the 
 other to follow up the others, I expect. However, 
 we had the entire corps at our disposal, all for the 
 difference of a little over seventy-five cents in our 
 tickets, which in America could have been paid to 
 the conductor in less time than it takes to tell it. 
 
 As the train moved out, a pretty German lady, 
 who had helped us somewhat by talking English, 
 indulged in a laugh all by herself, until her very 
 dainty blonde daughter in an opposite corner 
 asked the cause of her glee. In pretty broken 
 English she replied : " I am laughing at dat little 
 American lady's telling to the conductor, ' Sie 
 werden not all austeigen, wenn die tickets sie 
 hat not.' " 
 
 This English I saw was for my benefit, and as I 
 was the " little woman " referred to, we soon fell to 
 chatting about everything in general and nothing 
 in particular. 
 
 "You wanted to Nuremberg to-night to come 
 very much, Ich denke ? " she at last asked. 
 
 "Yes," I replied, "and we are going to get 
 there, too, despite the conductor nearly made us 
 miss it.''
 
 ON THE CONTINENT. 179 
 
 Courtesies exchanged en route made us quite 
 friends before we came to Nuremberg, and I found 
 she was the wife of a Protestant clergyman living 
 not far from the Rhine, and that they were to visit 
 rich relatives in the city. 
 
 A little Viennese woman beside me also thought 
 my German very entertaining, and the conductor, 
 as well, looked upon us as American curiosities. 
 Fortunately this ticket diversion was not for 
 naught. In the hurry of arriving at Nuremberg 
 and the saying of good-byes, I left my rain-coat in 
 the car, which, having gone on to Ratisbon, a tele- 
 gram has just caused to be returned to me, thanks 
 to the Viennese being honest and the conductor 
 aware of my nationality. Thus each day and each 
 journey brings its experiences, often in retrospect 
 more amusing than in participation.
 
 LETTER XI. 
 DELIGHTS OF PARIS. 
 
 Some Notes of the Latest Fashion in Clothes Jeanne a" Arc 
 in Pantomime Clean Streets and Cheap Cabs A Rough 
 Voyage Annoyances in New York. 
 
 PARIS, September 7, 1890. 
 
 ARRIVAL in a metropolis, after several weeks of 
 rapid travel and sight-seeing, is like the end of a 
 chapter in an exciting tale. Breath may be taken, 
 the book may even be closed, with a finger be- 
 tween the leaves, and a moment of quiet indulged 
 in before the mad plunge into the denouement ; 
 but the reprieve is only momentary. You must 
 go on, and if what follows be Paris, " Oh, where 
 may rest be found," until the end of the story ? 
 
 It is rather pleasant to feel you have assisted to 
 cause a ripple of excitement in so vast a city, as 
 you rightly do, when a passenger on the Orient 
 Express, or " flyer " of Europe, which steams into 
 the "Gare de 1' Est at five o'clock every afternoon. 
 The arrival of this train is the event of the day in 
 that quarter ; but only the necessity of accomplish-
 
 DELIGHTS OF PARIS. 181 
 
 ing the distance between Munich and Paris in 
 sixteen hours would ever warrant the ordinary 
 traveler in such an indulgence. 
 
 To one who has seen, piecemeal, the territory 
 which it so rapidly traverses, it affords a charming 
 resume ; and revives memories of many days, in- 
 stead of seconds, spent en route. 
 
 While at breakfast, the one tower of Strass- 
 burg Cathedral can be seen from all sides, as 
 the train winds into this fairest of cities Alsatian, 
 and then, almost before it seems possible to have 
 accomplished the distance, the gray spires of 
 Nancy's famous churches break the monotony of 
 hill and dale. 
 
 From here until Eperney is reached, the sinuous 
 Marne lies smiling in the lap of the land, or is 
 lost to view from time to time between its vine- 
 clad hills. 
 
 Why should Eperney be especially mentioned, 
 do you ask ? Because 'tis a habit we have of get- 
 ting out here, for what purpose the uninitiated 
 tourist may not quite appreciate. 
 
 In a pretty little station, over clean counters, in 
 iridescent glasses, such as Rembrandt is always 
 holding up before his wife in their pictures, is 
 served what do you suppose ? 
 
 Beer ? Germany is an endurance of the past. 
 
 Claret ? Italy is loin d' id.
 
 i82 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 Milk ? Water ? America is more than half-seas- 
 over. 
 
 Whisky ? Ireland is still beyond the channel. 
 
 No ! no ! no ! to all and every guess, unless 
 I heard some one say champagne, and if so he 
 is right. 
 
 Yes, champagne ! with Veuve Cliquot's man- 
 sion only a few miles away. So plentifully 
 did it flow for ten cents a class, that for all we 
 knew our iron horse was drinking it as well. For 
 total abstainers the alluring grapes were piled 
 in tempting displays on the counter, from which 
 they could sip champagne au naturel, and not feel 
 the pangs of conscience in consequence of the 
 indulgence. 
 
 After this diversion we begin to look for pre- 
 monitory glimpses of what we know are the out- 
 skirts of Paris, and are soon rewarded and finally 
 set down in the city. 
 
 The intricacies of the Douane passed, we find 
 ourselves in the busy boulevards at once, and 
 before the distance between the station and our 
 destination in the Champs-Elysees is accomplished, 
 the fact that we have not mingled in this gay 
 whirl for two years is forgotten in the sensation 
 that has come over us of being again chez nous. 
 Thank fortune ! one never has to become re-ac-
 
 DELIGHTS OF PARIS. 183 
 
 quainted with Paris. When it is once well known, 
 one simply begins where one left off. 
 
 Now since I don't pretend to have seen Paris 
 from any but a woman's stand-point, I am goig to 
 answer two at least of the many questions I am 
 sure would be put to me were I in dear, dearer, 
 dearest Buffalo at this moment. " What are they 
 wearing ? " shall be answered first. And " What did 
 you go to see ? " later on. 
 
 A keen observer at the Bon Marche need ask no 
 questions as to styles, for where certain goods are 
 found piled upon counters and labeled " occasion " 
 (bargain) those articles are sure to be passe. How- 
 ever this need not deter one from buying from this 
 same counter, since it takes, styles fully two years 
 to migrate to America, and what is no longer in 
 vogue here will still be new across the sea. 
 
 The novelties are sure to be hung high and dry 
 on lines above the counters, marked in plain 
 figures, equally high and dry. Thus the would-be 
 purchaser must pay well for advanced tastes. 
 
 In gowns, the newest are made straight up and 
 down, of woolen or uncut velvet fabrics. Upon 
 these, pipings of heavy ribbed silk or woolen fan- 
 tasies are used as garniture, with perhaps an 
 occasional revere of the same material. Cloth is 
 all the rage, and cloth of another shade on cloth
 
 1 84 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 is considered to give a garment beaucoup de cachet, 
 and costs beancoup de cash, eh ? Indeed it does ! 
 
 Extremely small black and white shepherd's 
 plaid is de rigueur, and these can be worn when in 
 fine camel-hair or velvet, for fashionable functions 
 of any nature. Sleeves are still puffed high at 
 the shoulder and are dainty when finished at the 
 wrist with a band of guipure insertion. 
 
 Hats and bonnets are made long in the brim, 
 and all trimming is bunched on directly over the 
 front and back. The favorite adornment of bon- 
 nets, which are mostly in jet, is clusters of minia- 
 ture ostrich tips, which nod and beckon at one 
 from every recent purchase. On hats the same 
 pert effect can be had by bunches of tiny birds, 
 which are more endurable for all kinds of weather, 
 and for those who object to birds, rosettes of 
 narrow ribbon may be substituted. 
 
 Boas for the neck are selling cheap, and ruches 
 of artificial flowers in bewitching shades, as well 
 as of China silk, and colored laces are expensive, 
 and consequently stylish. 
 
 "Straws show which way the wind blows," I 
 felt like remarking when at the glove counter they 
 informed me, there were plenty of tan-colored 
 gloves, and a scarcity of steel-gray and pearl. 
 
 In the mercerie department, or notions, as we 
 would call it, I demanded something with the
 
 DELIGHTS OF PARIS. 185 
 
 Eifel tower upon it, just to hear what the clerk 
 would say. He promptly rewarded me by remark- 
 ing, "C'est fini, le tour d 'Eifel. "Yes, I know it is 
 finished," I replied, pretending not to understand 
 him, "but is it not still the rage ?" " Au eontraire, 
 Madame" he answered, "cest maintenant Jeanne 
 d'Arc" and he surely did speak the truth. 
 
 The maiden whom France sold, has arisen from 
 her ashes to hold sway over this fickle nation 
 more victoriously than any of its earthly em- 
 presses ever did. Her statue is begirt with 
 garlands in the Rue du Rivoli, her portrait is 
 in every shop window, and her name in every 
 mouth. 
 
 From good authority I understand Bernhardt's 
 impersonation of this heroine was a failure, no 
 matter what good there was said of it. She simply 
 didn't fill the bill, vain woman that she was to 
 attempt, at her age, to imitate such youth and 
 beauty. As one critic summed it up, "She did 
 not have the legs to do it, much less the face." 
 
 At the Hippodrome the tour de force of the 
 evening for many weeks has been a three-act 
 pantomime of Jeanne's history. The tremendous 
 ring, which during the first half of the evening is 
 enlivened by chariot and .horse-races, clowns' 
 gambols and gymnasts' ups and downs in life, is, 
 after a wait of barely fifteen minutes, transformed
 
 1 86 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 into the village of Domremy, in which Jeanne 
 d'Arc was born. 
 
 Her father's cottage is brought in entire, and 
 the turf and winding high road through the village 
 are made by immense canvas coverings, which 
 many hands make light work of stretching over 
 the ring. Then canvases, which give distance to 
 the scene and a background, are pulled down over 
 the upright boards inclosing the ring, trees are 
 planted, and a sheep enclosure made with a rustic 
 fence. 
 
 In front of the house is a huge public well, 
 where the village women wash clothes, and upon 
 which they hang them to dry, while the "men 
 folks *' are gossiping with a group of shepherds, 
 who have driven a real flock of sheep into the 
 the aforementioned fold. 
 
 By and by a crowd of villagers animate the 
 green, while a Corydon plays Normandy sheep 
 songs on his flageolet to his Phyllis. Then a team 
 of milk-white oxen drag a cart full of hay through 
 the main street, and their guide stops to give two 
 pretty girls a ride. They are cheered by their 
 less fortunate comrades as they amble off at a 
 snail's pace. 
 
 As the Angelus rings, our heroine conies forth 
 from her cottage to pray, but her devotions are 
 interrupted by heavenly voices. Coming nearer and
 
 DELIGHTS OF PARIS. 187 
 
 nearer, they prove to be two angels ( real live 
 women let down by invisible wires, which the 
 keenest eye cannot detect ), whose presence casts 
 a wondrous halo of glory about the homely spot 
 and fragile girl, until just above the village well 
 they halt for a second. 
 
 Now come the commands of duty and directions 
 how to save France, and with a supreme effort 
 she advances to receive the heaven-given badge of 
 office, her sword. As her hand receives this, she 
 swoons with very fear while the angels disappear 
 into the well, from which issue clouds of hissing 
 steam. 
 
 At this crisis her family rush out, to find her 
 waving the huge sword above her head, and as 
 she tells them of her vision and its irremediable 
 result, she mounts a white palfry that has also 
 mysteriously appeared upon the scene, and rides 
 away from our sight. 
 
 In the next act, by a slight twist of the wrist, 
 the family home becomes a castle, behind whose 
 draw-bridge are an English garrison of about 
 twenty men. The village is en fete, and the green, 
 a mass of all sorts and conditions of men, women, 
 and children. 
 
 Finally many Normandy peasant dances are 
 indulged in, to the time of most weird airs, and 
 just as all is going merrily, the French army rush
 
 1 88 AS WE SAW IT Ii\ T '90. 
 
 on with Jeanne, at their head, who with a force of 
 about one hundred and fifty soldiers, horse and 
 foot, surprises and takes the English garrison. 
 This event of the pantomime is the only part at 
 all incongruous, and it is laughable to see the 
 handful of English soldiers throwing papier-mache 
 missiles at the French force, who with scaling 
 ladders soon invade the fort and capture the 
 enemy. 
 
 The third act, after a wait of ten minutes, gives 
 us the town of Rouen. The castle has been 
 drawn out into the center of the ring, and trans- 
 formed into the scaffold directly over the well. 
 All the greensward has been rolled up and carted 
 out, and from the Hippodrome's dome has been 
 let down a circular band of gauze upon which is 
 painted the town of Rouen. 
 
 In order to make this most consummately clever 
 bit of painting visible on all sides, the lights out- 
 side in the audience are extinguished, and huge 
 electric burners inside the ring are set flaring. 
 Thus from the dark one looks into the heart of 
 this city, and the audience on the opposite side of 
 the ring is utilized to make the crowd that would 
 naturally be in the streets, to witness such an 
 infamous spectacle^ Of course, we on our side of 
 the ring are returning the compliment, but so 
 absorbing does the tragedy become, that until all
 
 DELIGHTS OF PARIS. 189 
 
 is over we do not realize the fact, and I doubt if 
 after a day at Oberammergau, we would believe 
 any scenic effect impossible, in this day of talent 
 and ingenuity. 
 
 As the entrance of the betrayed maiden is her- 
 alded by monks, who chant the Miserere, a calm 
 falls upon the audience, as nature seems hushed 
 before a storm. Then follow the officers of church 
 and state, in gorgeous robes of various colors, 
 and finally in white garments, the lamb for the 
 sacrifice, brave Jeanne d'Arc, with unbound hair, 
 bowed head, and clasped hands. 
 
 I expected she would walk in, but no, she was 
 in a common ox-cart, and about her were the 
 fagots in huge bundles which were taken up on the 
 scaffold as she was helped to alight by .her father 
 confessor. At the steps of the scaffold she pauses, 
 and with a pathos that should have melted heart 
 of stone, pleads, but all in vain, for her life. 
 
 At this, one of the executioners rudely ap- 
 proaches her, and with brutal gestures reminds 
 her of her fate. Unrebuked, she follows him, 
 encouraged by the friar, and after one fond and 
 lingering glance about the city, goes firmly up the 
 steps and places herself against the stake. 
 
 Here one would expect the audience to break 
 forth into applause, but the fact is, they have for- 
 gotten this is a play-pretend scen'e, and I do not
 
 igo AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 believe there is a being in the audience whose 
 blood does not curdle in his veins, as the fagots 
 are fired, and the still white figure is lost in sight 
 amid the roaring flames. 
 
 As they somewhat subside, a rushing noise is 
 heard, and from the embers issues suddenly a 
 gilded equestrian statue of the martyr, clad in 
 armor, sword in hand. 
 
 Now from all quarters of the city come com- 
 panies of peasants of every division of France, 
 in native attire, who group themselves about the 
 base of the statue until it bristles with humanity. 
 Then, with one accord, goes up a song of triumph, 
 through which the weird Normandy folk-song of 
 her youth weaves itself in and out in pathetic and 
 tremulous. waves, until the end of the chorus. 
 
 The fact that not one word has been spoken 
 from start to finish is forgotten, and the represen- 
 tation is unanimously declared to have been skill- 
 fully conducted. No wonder, in face of this 
 attraction, Sara Bernhardt took a vacation. 
 
 A few moments later the scene for us is 
 changed. Out on the boulevards cabmen impor- 
 tune you to employ them, crying " Batignolles ! " 
 (a distant quarter of Paris), " Environs de Paris ! " 
 A year ago these were unwilling to drive you for 
 almost any price more than a square or two. 
 
 Soon we are on the Champs- Elysees and seated
 
 DELIGHTS OF PARIS. 191 
 
 in front of one of its gilded cafes, where the best 
 we can get is a " limonade" while we sigh for ice- 
 cream soda. This drink, too, is not even made of 
 lemons and water, but of lime juice, or citric acid, 
 and soda fizz. 
 
 Inside, three beturbaned and short - skirted 
 women are playing on the piano and violin, and 
 on the other side of the room a blase woman sits 
 smoking cigarettes a la unnatural young American 
 girls in Ouida's novels, or the real French coucoutes 
 of Daudet. 
 
 " Are the players Hungarians ? " I ask of the 
 gar con. 
 
 " Out, Madame" he quickly replies, " Hong raises 
 des boulevardes de Mont mar tre." 
 
 Not satisfied with one pantomime, we go the 
 next evening to see Felecie Mallet distinguish 
 herself in "L'Enfant Prodigue," or " The Infant 
 Prodigy," as I heard a countryman translate it. 
 She certainly succeeds in impersonating a most 
 fascinating young roue, and I wonder if Ada 
 Rehan, who watched most intently her every 
 motion, had any thoughts of endeavoring to pro- 
 duce it across the sea. She is certainly versatile 
 enough to play the part of the " Prodigal Son," 
 
 an American audience would endure it. 
 
 Fortunately Pierro has no part to speak, and yet 
 every motion of face and figure is so fraught
 
 1 92 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 with meaning that I wondered at the presence of 
 young children. 
 
 The next day a matron, with a daughter of 
 eighteen, asked me if it was anything she could 
 take the girl to see, and, as I saw she wanted to 
 see it herself, I replied : " The first act is all 
 right, the second nn peu risquable. Take your 
 daughter out for an ice then, and return for the 
 third and last act." I never learned whether she 
 took my advice. 
 
 Of course I was too late to see any of the Salon 
 pictures en masse, but I am told the rupture in the 
 Academy has resulted in a new and old Salon, the 
 first of which held its own this last spring and 
 presented prizes, with no less a figure-head for 
 president than Meissonier. 
 
 In both of these our former townswoman, Mrs. 
 Garrett C. Daboll, had a portrait accepted. They 
 were on porcelain, one being of herself and the 
 other of her mother, and in her charming home 
 on the Avenue de 1' Opera I had the pleasure of 
 admiring them. 
 
 Two luxuries I would like to transplant to 
 Buffalo from Paris, viz.: the clean streets, with 
 clear, almost drinkable water always flowing in 
 the gutters, and cheap cabs. I believe we could 
 have cheaper cabs in Buffalo if a man was willing 
 to make ten journeys in a day instead of standing
 
 DELIGHTS OF PARIS. 193 
 
 for hours in such a windy quarter as Lafayette 
 Square. 
 
 Unemployed men could easily earn money in 
 this way. I think these are the men that do such 
 work in Paris, for certainly they cannot receive 
 much wages, and an expert in any paying trade 
 could never afford to do such work. 
 
 Everyone is employed here, and there is no 
 beggary. The jean-jacketed porter and white- 
 capped maid have cheery voices and clean faces. 
 Many a rich woman in other lands might learn 
 a lesson from a poor French woman's feet. They 
 are always well shod, and as for ankles, they 
 excel all other country-women for trigness in this 
 particular. 
 
 After a week of sunshine here, we are antici- 
 pating weather to order for both our channel 
 and ocean trips, which are near at hand. Perfect 
 days have made it possible to accomplish a 
 great deal, and yet one never wishes to leave 
 Paris for the uncertainties of the sea.
 
 NEW YORK, September 22, 1890. 
 
 Being interrupted in Paris, I found I could finish 
 this letter in New York and get it to Buffalo as 
 soon as if sent from there. The above short and 
 long dashes signify channel and ocean. The first, 
 as you see, was calm and consequently enjoyable ; 
 the latter too unpleasant to be mentioned in polite 
 society. 
 
 Among the passengers were many well-known 
 men, such as Consul-General John C. New, of 
 Indianapolis ; Dr. F. O. St. Clair, of Washing- 
 ton, D. C. ; Rev. J. W. Hamilton, of Boston ; Dr. 
 A. P. Van Giesen, of Poughkeepsie ; Prof. C. M. 
 Vincent, the great explorer, from everywhere ; C. 
 E. Cookman, of New York ; George B. Howell, of 
 Albany ; Dr. W. M. Hudson, of Hartford, and 
 others. 
 
 The Berlin behaved her prettiest in the meanest 
 and most persistent head-wind on record, and jolly 
 Capt. Land (it is such a comfort to see land when 
 in the midst of the sea) did all that could be 
 thought of for the convenience and comfort of 
 those of us who came above.
 
 IN NEW YORK. 195 
 
 Never did terra firma feel more unsteady, or a 
 quiet bed cut up more antics than were experi- 
 enced yesterday ; but 'tis America, nevertheless, 
 and New York notwithstanding ; and who could 
 desire to be anywhere else than in " the land of 
 the free and the home of the brave ? " 
 
 New York is looking its best, and the shops hold 
 their own most decidedly. The rivals of Redfern, 
 Deutsch & Co. have just opened the most elegant 
 and artistic show-rooms in the world, corner of 
 Fifth avenue and Twenty-second street, and if 
 their windows are an index to their styles, they 
 should succeed. 
 
 New York women are always the daintiest and 
 most stylish creatures in the world, in my estima- 
 tion, and as for the men, they certainly surpass 
 those of any other nation in form and face. 
 
 Houses are being opened up, and the warm 
 weather, which seems most oppressive after ocean 
 breezes, does not seem to deter their occupants 
 from returning to them. 
 
 It is to be hoped that the epidemic of losing 
 luggage will cease when cold weather comes ; 
 otherwise I shall be forced to retract much of the 
 praise I have given our system of checking this 
 summer whenever the opportunity presented itself. 
 
 Just at present I have no personal grievance in 
 that respect, but I would like to suggest that the
 
 1 96 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 Hudson River road get a new corps of men in its 
 New York baggage-room. If I had been a for- 
 eigner to-day and had been treated as rudely as I 
 was, there would have been a chance for some 
 invidious comparisons. One of my trunks had 
 been sent from the dock, after the custom-house 
 examination, minus one strap. I saw this and 
 asked the burly porter, who had been in that 
 station for years, if he had a piece of rope to put 
 around it. 
 
 " Why don't you buy a strap ? Aint got no 
 rope," he rudely replied. 
 
 " Have you them for sale ? " 
 
 " Yes, I have," is the snappish answer. 
 
 " How much are they ?" 
 
 The price mentioned was more than I cared to 
 indulge in, so h% with a most vindictive look, 
 weighed the piece, a thing I never had done before 
 in all the years I have passed over the road, and 
 because I would not buy his strap, took out his 
 revenge in charging a good, round sum for my 
 trunk. 
 
 Now I am convinced that if this had been 
 in England, or even on the continent, any bag- 
 gageman would have at least answered me civilly, 
 and, I am sure, would have tied up the trunk, 
 especially if, as was the case here, there was no 
 rush of business.
 
 IN NEW YORK. 197 
 
 The new " Transatlantic Indemnity Baggage 
 Checking Company," with offices both in Europe 
 and America, may force local offices to look to 
 their laurels, as its employees are most gentle- 
 manly men. 
 
 One of them offered to unstrap and unlock my 
 trunks on the dock in New York, quite unsolicited, 
 and the persons having luggage in their care were 
 met and enabled to depart before anyone else, 
 through the promptness of the men in charge. 
 
 And now, before I say hail and farewell, let me 
 tell you that " Tiddledy Winks " is the hero of 
 the hour in New York, and I hear a rumor that 
 " Halma," the former favorite, is already black 
 and yellow with rage, and trembling in his boots 
 for fear of dethronement. Has Buffalo yet be- 
 come a victim to his charms ! If not, it should, 
 and I shall take pains to inquire upon my arrival 
 not many days hence.
 
 INNSPRUCK TO OBERAMMERGAU 
 
 via 
 
 ZlRL, MlTTENWALD, PARTENKIRCHEN, 
 OBERAU AND ETTAL. 
 
 UPON our arrival in Innspruck it was raining in 
 torrents, and the River Inn was swollen and rush- 
 ing wildly over its winding bed. By the kind 
 advice of an Austrian gentleman we had met in 
 the train, we went directly across the street from 
 the station, as it was very late, to the Hotel de 
 1' Europe. 
 
 The proprietor said he had not a single bed- 
 room, but would give our party his two private 
 parlors, and we were accordingly ushered up to 
 them. They were gorgeous ! Yellow damask- 
 covered furniture, lace curtains, etc., among which 
 the small beds, evidently put there for the occa- 
 sion, looked most out of place. 
 
 In the morning we discovered we had been so 
 spry at getting into the hotel the previous evening 
 that our kind friend had been forced to go to the 
 Tiroler Hof, close at hand in the same square. 
 Another time I should go there, too, unless I 
 wanted quaintness, and a chance to mingle with 
 the people, and, if so, the "Goldner Adler' would 
 be the one to select.
 
 OBERAMMERGA U. IQ9 
 
 It was Friday morning, and we were now on the 
 threshold of Oberammergau, but as yet had made 
 no arrangements for seeing the much-looked- 
 forward-to event, the " Passion Play." 
 
 The fact was I had learned that many who had 
 engaged places through Cook & Gaze for former 
 representations, were not as impressed with the 
 arrangements made for them as these companies 
 expected them to be. I therefore concluded to 
 take my chances all around, having previously 
 written twice, and from Innspruck telegraphed to 
 Burgomaster Lang that " we were coming." 
 
 As I said, it was positively too late the evening 
 previous, for us to make any arrangements for our 
 start on the morrow, especially when we learned 
 that the diligence through to Oberammergau left 
 at 4.30 or 5 A. M., for a drive of many miles. 
 But first thing this morning, I inquired of our host 
 the price of a carriage and pair for four to Ober- 
 ammergau. He told me one hundred and twenty 
 marks would cover all costs, this being equal to 
 twenty-four dollars of our money. 
 
 By chance I happened into the Tiroler Hof, and 
 the very polite blue-coated porter suggested I try to 
 get a "return wagon," as he called it, one belong- 
 ing to Oberammergau. I caught at the idea at 
 once, and with my brother went in search of such a 
 commodity in the court-yard of the Goldner Adler.
 
 200 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 " 'Twas a misty, moisty morning, when cloudy 
 was the weather," but we called it charming for 
 the Tyrol, you know thankful enough that it was 
 not raining. 
 
 The interior of this ancient hostel was a study 
 for an artist ; but I only partially enjoyed it, since 
 the time I passed beneath its antique ceiling was 
 occupied by my endeavors to impart my errand, in 
 an unfamiliar tongue, to the women in charge. At 
 the time I was so much in earnest, that I could not 
 see myself as others saw me ; but when, by various 
 gyrations, they had explained to me, that there 
 was a man there with a "return wagon," but that 
 he had gone to the smithy with his horses, I had 
 time to muse upon our impromptu pantomime and 
 fully realized its absurdity. 
 
 Just here the man came in, but since neither 
 gestures nor my original German made the least 
 impression on him, I suggested we return to the 
 kind porter and get his help. This we did, and I 
 really must chronicle the fact that in the whole 
 transaction, he did by me as by himself, reducing 
 the charge from ninety to sixty marks, everything 
 included, engaging the man to leave at noon that 
 day, and writing out a contract that we be de- 
 livered in Oberammergau by noon on the morrow. 
 
 The difference of fifty marks between our host's 
 price and the one I had bargained for, made me
 
 OBERAMMERGA U. 201 
 
 fully satisfied ; and when I returned at noon for 
 the signed contract, I assured the porter in a solid 
 manner of my gratitude. 
 
 Between ten and twelve we did the town from 
 the bank to the Hofkirche, in which is the unique 
 tomb of the Emperor Maximillian I. 
 
 Alas ! A heavy mist hung over the town, and 
 at noon we left without seeing^ its girdle of snow- 
 covered mountains, which the atmosphere told us 
 were there. 
 
 The arcades, brilliant with goods displayed to 
 catch tourists' eyes, made us realize Italy was not 
 far distant, and in the people's faces, in their lan- 
 guage, and in their names, its influence was most 
 apparent. 
 
 Over the Inn we go on the briicke that gives it 
 its name, and begin very soon to climb into the 
 mountains. 
 
 We are friends with our coachman from the 
 start, although, from all advice given us, we hold 
 ourself in readiness to defeat any attempt on his 
 part, or the people in the town towards which we. 
 tend, to cheat us. Yes, we have his signed con- 
 tract in an inside pocket, and from it we learn his 
 name is Xavier Rassmadl. 
 
 What a huge, brawny man he was ! and what a 
 warm coat he wore ! Like himself, his laugh was 
 big and hearty, and we noticed he walked for miles 
 up steep hills, rather than add a pound to the load.
 
 202 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 From Innspruck to Zirl we follow the windings 
 of the Inn, going up a gradual ascent, until we can 
 look east and west for miles over the Innthal,. 
 whose stream feels its importance in being a 
 branch of the Danube. 
 
 Curious windmills attract our attention, and 
 with all there is to see, we can hardly realize that 
 two hours have been consumed during this climb. 
 From Zirl to Reith we have two extra horses. 
 Xavier and the extra man both walk, and we get 
 higher and higher, having left the Inn at Zirl, and 
 turned our faces due north. 
 
 We only halted once during this pull, and that 
 was at Leiten. Here, in front of its Gasthof 
 Hirlchen, we divide our attention between the 
 fine view of the Wetterstein Gebirge ( we are 
 up nearly 4,000 feet ) and a beauteous lad who 
 waters our horses. He was at play with dice, 
 as we drove up, with two men and a woman, 
 at a table outside the Gasthof. Best of all, he 
 had never known he was beautiful, but had 
 been born and might in all probability die there, 
 in unconsciousness of what a face he possessed, 
 like the Alpine flowers he resembled. 
 
 The group at play was a living picture, and just 
 such as Defregger has made his name from paint- 
 ing. The woman was so busy at her gambling 
 that she almost neglected to sell her beer to our
 
 QBE RA MMER GA U. 203 
 
 two men, and, without moving, would call out in 
 shrill tones to some one within, then shake her 
 dice and grab her profits, all in a breath. 
 
 The houses here assume an azure shade, and by 
 the time Reith is reached, they are sky-blue. The 
 preponderance of this color penetrates us, for the 
 mist that has obligingly held itself tantalizingly 
 overhead begins to fall, and as the darkness 
 sets in, we have Xavier close all the carriage win- 
 dows, and in speechless dreariness abandon our- 
 selves to our thoughts. 
 
 It is not difficult to fancy 'tis many years ago, 
 and that we are wearing powdered wigs and 
 patches on our faces. We are going to a wed- 
 ding, in our private carriage, with coachmen and 
 footmen to obey our commands, and, of course, 
 the inevitable postilion on the leader. Now we 
 are stopped at a border town by brigands, and 
 but for the bravery of our servants, would have 
 been rifled of all our valuable jewels, like the 
 count and his lady in " Fra Diavolo." 
 
 Will this journey never end ! Yes, with -a 
 "Whoa!" and a pull up, which gives us a jog, 
 we awake to find we are nineteenth centuryites, 
 and as far as Mittenwald. 
 
 While rubbing our eyes, we inquire was our 
 dream of the brigands all fancy, or did Xavier 
 really stop and talk, and was not our carriage door
 
 204 AS IV E SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 opened by a man, who spoke gruffly ? Yes, we 
 did stop back at the Defile of Scharnitz, on the 
 boundary of Bavaria and the Austrian Tyrol, and 
 that we must have been asleep ever since Seefeld 
 and Scharnitz were passed, lulled, no doubt, by 
 fatigue, the intense quiet, and the murmur of the 
 " Isar, rolling rapidly " on its way to Munich. 
 
 It is nine o'clock, and the message sent to the 
 " Post " has never been received, .the host tells us. 
 Alas ! can he-take us in at so late an hour ? 
 
 Jah, wohl, he can, is the happy reply, and soon 
 we are within his doors. 
 
 To describe this hostelry with pen and ink, 
 would need more time than I can give to it now. 
 Suffice to say, as we were bowed in and up-stairs, 
 we felt the politeness with which we were wel- 
 comed, and thought what was the use of bothering 
 to be crowned heads, when we were treated as such 
 everywhere we went. 
 
 The entrance hall was broad and long, and 
 paved ; the first flight of stairs winding, and very, 
 very broad. These brought us to a huge upper 
 hall, whose front half was cut off by stained- 
 glass doors. Then the next flight came out upon 
 another equally large and square hall ( what 
 dances could be given here ! ), and the rooms we 
 occupied gave upon it. 
 
 We lose no time in getting to bed, after im-
 
 OBERAMMERGA U. 205 
 
 pressing the fact upon the chambermaid that she 
 must " rap us up " at 4.30. Six hours and a half 
 of sleep seems "as a dream that is told," when 
 getting-up time comes. The maid, after she raps, 
 is busy polishing our boots in the hall, from 
 which she appears never to have stirred. 
 
 When dressed we go into the entrance hall, 
 and, following the odor of coffee, by 5.30 are in 
 the dimly lit dining-room. Many are there before 
 us, for it seems two diligencies had come in the 
 evening before and one early that morning. The 
 tussle for breakfast being over, which consisted of 
 " kaffee, brod und eier," we find our coach in the 
 center of the paved hall and are thankful, since 
 it is raining hard. 
 
 From my bedroom window I had taken in the 
 town with a glance. Quite opposite was the 
 Burgomaster's residence, a yellow-plaster house 
 much ornamented with frescoes, and at this early 
 hour watched the housemaid take off the window- 
 boards. Then, in order to get some money 
 changed, I went across the street, and passed some 
 of the violin shops, for the manufacture of which 
 this district is noted. 
 
 Suffice to say, I should have been very glad to 
 remain here several days, in fair weather, and 
 to make some of the many excursions into the
 
 206 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 neighboring valleys and mountains, so much 
 recommended. 
 
 From Mittenwald we follow the mountain road 
 northwest, for ten miles to Partenkirchen. Here 
 we gladly leave the carriage for some refreshments, 
 consisting of "bouillon mit eier," wine of the 
 country and " weiss brod." The table, a long one, 
 is occupied by people speaking many languages, 
 and from the stir about us, and the noise of stages 
 departing and arriving, we begin to realize Ober- 
 ammergau is not far distant. 
 
 While Xavier rests here one hour, we inspect the 
 modern Gothic church, ablaze within with tinsel, 
 'and highly colored hangings at the altar. The 
 main street is muddy, but the people are going 
 about all in curious costumes, and at this hour of 
 nine o'clock are busy with their daily avocations. 
 Many cattle and goats are driven hither and 
 thither. 
 
 This wait gives us time to get somewhat 
 acquainted with our hostess, a fat old party, 
 wearing several brilliant diamond rings. In the 
 hall with us a priest and an artist " wait for the 
 wagon." The latter, as we can judge by his 
 garments, is off for a holiday, and by chance has 
 met the priest. As the unusually pretty waitresses 
 pass back and forth from the tap to the dining- 
 room, they cast languishing looks upon him, but
 
 OBERAMMERGA U. 207 
 
 he is through with them, as he shows by the scowl 
 he gives in return. The girl he chucked under 
 the chin last night, kissed and used as a model, 
 is this morning a thing of the past, and he shows a 
 desire to maintain his dignity in the presence of 
 his fat and churchly friend. 
 
 It is rare fun, this watching the coming and 
 going in the inn, " Stern " by name, and finally, 
 after all the diligences have departed (how glad 
 we are not to be tucked in one), we start on 
 our way to Oberau. 
 
 The principal object of interest now was the 
 weather ! Would it or would it not clear, was the 
 question that perplexed us ! We were, at any rate, 
 in a warmer and lower climate than the evening 
 before, for then the snow covered the mountains, 
 and every stream was swollen to its utmost capac- 
 ity. It was, consequently, more like late November 
 than August, and we dreaded the possibility of a 
 rainy Sunday for the Passion Play. 
 
 Half-way to Oberau, we rest our horses again for 
 forty minutes. The carriage is left in front of the 
 village inn, and while I dismount and go within to 
 write a Courier letter, our artist sits in the car- 
 riage and sketches the most picturesque street in 
 the village. One by one, the villagers, big and 
 little, gather about the carriage, and when we 
 depart they in unison declare the sketch sehr gut !
 
 208 AS IV SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 sehr schone ! and say many more complimentary 
 things we are unable to understand, but which 
 seem to please Xavier. 
 
 By this time we have concluded Xavier is not 
 going to cheat us, and in some unexplained way 
 have managed to establish friendly relations with 
 him, despite we cannot understand his lingua. 
 
 This confidence in him leads to our engaging 
 him for sixteen marks to take our quartette to 
 Oberau, after the play. We are quite satisfied 
 when we find Cook & Gaze charge five marks 
 each to jolt one in their common wagons over the 
 same road. 
 
 " I feel as uncertain how we are to fare at Ober- 
 ammergau," I exclaim to my comrades, "as I do 
 about the future ; but somehow I have confidence 
 that we will get there and fare all right." 
 
 We ride into Oberau over a plain with the 
 mountains, in which Oberammergau is hidden, quite 
 before us. Here we do not halt, but go on by the 
 new government road that ascends for two and 
 one-half miles by rapid turns for seven hundred 
 feet to Ettal. 
 
 Before us are many diligences, post-wagons and 
 pedestrians, and at Oberau we see the railway 
 which is finished from there to Partenkirchen. 
 I neglected to state there was also one from Inns- 
 pruck to Zirl, and so before 1900 there will be a
 
 OBERAMMERGA U. 209 
 
 railway the entire distance from Innspruck to 
 Munich. 
 
 Since the route from Oberau to Oberammergau 
 is the beginning of the end of the pilgrimage, I 
 doubt very much if this holy road will ever be 
 desecrated, by railway traffic. If so, the entire 
 solemnity of the play would be ruined at the 
 beginning. At Ettal we pass our priest and 
 artist, who, evidently, came by rail to Oberau, 
 trudging over the wet and gravelly road in inter- 
 ested conversation. 
 
 How beautiful it all is ! and what a quaint 
 village ! But we cannot stop now, although 
 we will on our return, to visit the Moorish-looking 
 monastery and church, whose cupola and minarets 
 were seen long before we reached them. 
 
 From here we have a fine view of the Ettaler 
 Mandl, whose bluff peak towers five thousand feet 
 high, and soon we descend into the Amerthal. 
 
 I had always supposed from what I had read that 
 Oberammergau was higher than Ettal. You see I 
 was mistaken, as it is, by actual figures, one hun- 
 dred and twenty miles below. 
 
 This places it in a broad valley, directly on the 
 Ammer, which flows through the town, with an 
 amphitheatre of hills for a beautiful finish about 
 its outskirts. 
 
 As we approach the outlying houses, a change
 
 210 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 from the many shrines *y the roadside, Xavier 
 turns and ejaculates, " Hier ist Ammergau ! " 
 At this my heart gives a sudden leap ; I feel the 
 strangest sensation of loneliness take possession of 
 me, and with three other people to provide for 
 comfortably, besides myself, I almost wish I had 
 not come. My only hope is Xavier ! At a halt 
 back on the road, I had learned somehow that he 
 had a " frau," but " keine kindern," and also a barn. 
 I made him understand we were coming here quite 
 unprepared, and would he let us sleep on his hay, 
 if bad came to worse ? (you see I had heard of 
 people having to do this). 
 
 " Jah wohl," he replied, and laughed heartily. 
 
 Somehow he braced me with that laugh, little as 
 he knew it, and the curious look in his eye, which 
 meant he thought me very droll, I needed no 
 language to interpret for me. 
 
 As we entered the town, my heart actually stood 
 still at sight of the many people before me, 
 although according to promise it was only noon on 
 Saturday. By my direction he went to the Rath- 
 haus, at the door of which I was told the Burgo- 
 master was at dinner. 
 
 Inquiring the way to his house, No. 151, we 
 went thither. Here a youth met me at the door 
 and said the Burgomaster would be at the Rath- 
 haus at one o'clock.
 
 OB ERA MMER GAU. 211 
 
 While talking with him, I stepped inside the 
 door. The hall was plain as an American wood- 
 shed, and in one corner a lot of truck was piled, 
 giving the place a most untidy appearance. As I 
 returned to the carriage I was in despair ; we could 
 not wait forty minutes, besides we were tired and 
 hungry. 
 
 I suggested we try to find the number and peo- 
 ple with which two Protestant nuns had told us 
 they stayed, and so in search of Frau Winckler, No. 
 146, we drove further on, Xavier doing his best to 
 help us. The streets ran in every direction ; in fact, 
 there were no streets, but dividing lines, the peo- 
 ple being found by the number of their houses, 
 which seemed to have grown up out of the ground 
 in other people's back yards, or where such yards 
 should have been. Between the houses, on one 
 side of the street by which we entered the town, 
 and our road, ran the Ammer, and from time to 
 time small foot bridges crossed it. 
 
 Boston streets are nowhere for intricacy, in com- 
 parison to the maze at Ammergau, and I would 
 like to see any stranger who has walked its streets 
 and not been puzzled as to where he lived. 
 
 Well ! we could not find No. 146, and just as I was 
 in despair a man in front of No. 165 said he had 
 three rooms and seven unoccupied beds. His house 
 was centrally located, and I entered at once. In
 
 212 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 the narrow hall a pair of steps were put up against 
 an opening above, the trap-door of which was 
 fastened up. I clambered up these and found one 
 room had four beds. This I took with the chance 
 of a fourth person being put in, and the single 
 bedroom for my brother at ten marks ($2.00) a 
 person. This paid for two nights, instead of one, 
 the rule in Ammergau in all houses, and our food 
 was to be bought outside. 
 
 The host spoke French after a German style of 
 his own, but it was a relief to Xavier's gibberish 
 (dear old Xav, as we called him, how patient he 
 was), and our host was most attentive throughout 
 our stay. 
 
 I now returned to the Rathhaus alone. At the 
 door a string of people as long as the Moral Law 
 stood in line. Working my way by degrees to 
 the door, I heard the grim custodian ask those in 
 front of me, " Haben schrieben," to which they 
 answered briefly, "Schrieben haben." So when 
 he asked me the same, I was prepared. Those who 
 said they had not, or had intended to, or had no 
 time before, or any other excuse, I noticed were 
 turned away, for the old guard seemed a veritable 
 St. Peter. 
 
 Once in, the wait on the stairs was most 
 tedious. People of all nationalities were there, 
 and yet at the door above, the two guardians in
 
 OB ERA MMER GAU. 213 
 
 blue coats and brass buttons only admitted two at 
 a time. I looked about for the rush, crush and 
 mad scramble I had seen so much written about, 
 and had been told of and warned against, and yet 
 all was law and order to a tiresome degree. 
 
 I was in a high-wrought state when I was at 
 last admitted into the sacred precinct, with a puffy, 
 red-faced Englishman. This room evidently ex- 
 tended the entire length of the building and had 
 at least six large windows in it. Opposite me was 
 a fire-place and in the farther left-hand corner of 
 the room, behind a railing, sat three young men, 
 all with gentle faces and long hair. As I ap- 
 proached I thought what if my name should not 
 be in their sacred book ! The handsomest of the 
 three addressed me in German, and to my inquiry, 
 "Do you speak English?" replied, " A leetle." I 
 was then asked my name, and said I had "tele- 
 graphed once and written twice." He opened the 
 book, ran his finger down the page, and almost 
 before he came to it I saw what I expected, 
 " Schelden, G. C. 4 billeten Schreiben und tele- 
 graphen." 
 
 He next asked, " Do you wanted rooms?'" 
 
 I replied, " No, thank you, I have found them 
 for myself." 
 
 " Where ? " he replied. 
 
 This question I could not answer, as the number
 
 214 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 had gone entirely from my mind, so, in the best 
 German I could muster, I described " our land- 
 lord " as " klein schone speaking FranzSsisch, mit 
 ein schnurrbart." 
 
 This description pleased them very much, but 
 think as they would, they could not place him, so 
 they told me to return and ask him for tickets for 
 our party which he ought to have. When I left 
 that room I think I felt something as a young 
 law-student must, after passing his exams for 
 admittance to the bar. 
 
 Once more out in the streets, I, by degrees, 
 
 found "our house," and then Herr , to be 
 
 told he only had "three tickets." 
 
 This meant another visit to the Rathhaus, which 
 I dreaded, but I returned there at once, and with 
 a confidential nod to St. Peter, who remembered 
 me, and the two guardians above, I walked in past 
 the long line of waiting people. In a moment I 
 having learned the number this time the three 
 youths gave me my fourth ticket, and with the 
 hope that to-morrow would be " schoiies wetter," 
 I left them forever. 
 
 About the door were .some of the prettiest 
 and most healthy little lads I ever saw. All of 
 them had long hair, some of them being as yellow 
 as flax. These were employed to take people to
 
 OB ERA MM ERG A U. 215 
 
 assigned lodgings, but of course I had no need of 
 them. 
 
 In fact all the men in the village wore long hair 
 with the exception of St. Peter, St. Andrew 
 and Judas, and it gave them an oriental and 
 peculiar air, as uncommon as was their town and 
 themselves. 
 
 After a hearty dinner in the tap-room of the 
 Wittelsbacher (we thought the first part of the 
 hotel's name very appropriate) we took a nap, and 
 by four o'clock were ready to investigate the 
 village. 
 
 This was a treat, and possibly never again shall 
 I encounter, in so small a space, people of so 
 many nationalities. 
 
 It was like "putting a girdle round the world," 
 and with the load of uncertainty regarding rooms 
 and tickets rolled off my shoulders, I entered fully 
 into everything. 
 
 The shops were full of carving, and for a reason- 
 able price I thought, but when I wanted rubbers, 
 they showed me some gun-boats, seven, eight and 
 nine, in size, and asked seven, eight and nine 
 marks for them a mark being equal to our 
 twenty-five cents. 
 
 The sun was out, and by its aid the streets were 
 dry and all hearts lighter.
 
 216 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 We went through the town to see where Coojc's 
 office was. Here was a man, with a book in his 
 hand, besieged by women and young girls, whose 
 questions he was answering very shortly, and as if 
 by the greatest condescension. 
 
 I was thankful I was not a "Cookie" and my 
 thoughts were interrupted by a very tired voice 
 exclaiming, " Oh, dear ! I do wish I knew where to 
 get something to eat. That horrid man won't 
 answer our questions at all ! " 
 
 I looked about and saw it was a compatriot 
 with two other young girls of her age. 
 
 "Are you alone?" I asked. 
 
 " No ; but our chaperon, Miss L , don't 
 
 speak German or French, and while we have 
 Cook's tickets, we can't get a bit of attention from 
 that agent." 
 
 " Come with me, we are returning past the 
 Wittelsbacher, and will show you where it is," I 
 answered. 
 
 So we went on our way, leaving the agent in 
 conversation with a callow American youth, who 
 was explaining how long ago he had engaged 
 rooms and tickets, and how dissatisfied he was 
 with what had been given him. 
 
 At the hotel I entered and ordered for the 
 " maidens all forlorn " a good tea, and never shall 
 I forget the bright look that even the bare
 
 ORERA MMER GAU. 217 
 
 prospect of food brought out upon their woe- 
 begone faces. 
 
 By this time it was six o'clock, so f we went 
 up to the outside balcony of a hotel, near the 
 street leading to the theater, to see the band 
 march thither. I had been told by some one, that 
 all the actors marched with it ; but, like every 
 other thing I had heard before coming here, this 
 was not so. Only the band preceded by police- 
 men went by, playing a lively air quite unfamiliar 
 to me. 
 
 Then I visited the church which has a most 
 bizarre interior, as I did not expect to attend early 
 mass the next morning, and after tea, at which we 
 encountered some Buffalo friends, and made a new 
 acquaintance in an English lady, we returned to 
 our home. 
 
 Again we climb up the ladder. And now I must 
 describe our room before I sleep. 
 
 Years ago, in 1880, Augustus Hoppin illustrated 
 his bedroom in Mayr's house, in his " Ups and 
 Downs by Land and Water." The beds here I 
 found just as short as he drew them, but being 
 only four feet eleven I had no cause of com- 
 plaint. 
 
 Our room, as I said, contained four beds, and the 
 odd one was occupied by a woman fast asleep. 
 Through the middle of the room was a curtain,
 
 218 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 quite dividing one part from the other, and in 
 each corner was a bed. There were three 
 windows, and two wash-stands, with plain white 
 bowls, pitchers, soap-dishes and soap, glasses 
 filled with drinking water and plenty of towels for 
 four, although they were not large. 
 
 The head of my bed was at one window and by 
 its foot was another. The sheets were linen and 
 white as snow, the pillow-cases being trimmed and 
 inserted with lace, and, of course, upon each bed 
 was the inevitable feather coverlet, which none 
 but a native can keep over him all night. 
 
 I can go to bed with it, spread over me as 
 evenly as sod on a grave, but in the morning a 
 resurrection seems to have taken place, for it 
 always lies upon the floor. 
 
 One by one the lights were extinguished in the 
 houses, and by nine o'clock quiet reigned. The 
 quiet is fairly solemn, as if in silent prayer the 
 world of Oberammergau was preparing and 
 strengthening itself against the morrow.
 
 THE PASSION PLAY. 
 OBERAMMERGAU, 1890. 
 
 SUNDAY, August 3ist, dawned clear and bright. 
 I was awakened at 5.15 from a dream of being at 
 home, and that it was Fourth of July. Some fire- 
 crackers had been set off under my bed, and in 
 my effort to jump up, I discovered my mistake. 
 The booming cannons of Oberammergau are the 
 crackers, and I realize that the Mystery Play of 
 1890 is announced. From my bed, I can see 
 in two directions without moving, and notice in 
 response to this early cannonading, the sun at 
 once begins to tint the sky. 
 
 This is not a good sign for fair weather, but 
 croaking does not mend matters, and I silently 
 hope for the best. Then at the second cannon, 
 5.30, priests, with and without skirts, hurry church- 
 ward for early mass, but only a few villagers 
 appear to follow in their footsteps. Those that do 
 pass my windows, returning later with what is called 
 " ein sftick brod" in many cases as long as they are 
 tall. This they carry unconcernedly under their 
 arms, two small boys using theirs to bat each 
 other.
 
 220 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 At six o'clock the bells begin to chime, and 
 cannons boom every two minutes, during which the 
 band of the previous evening goes toward the 
 theater, playing, as previously, a gay and martial 
 air. There seemed in this a lack of good taste, as 
 some solemn dirge would have been more in tone 
 with the occasion. The musicians are preceded 
 by village policemen, who wear brass helmets. 
 
 As the music ceases, all is silent, and this pre- 
 liminary excitement having subsided, a patriotic 
 American cannot but compare his sensations to 
 those experienced upon a Fourth of July at home. 
 The pedestrians that now flock through the streets 
 are an unconscious fund of amusement. I would 
 rather watch them than sleep. So bracing myself 
 into a comfortable attitude, where I can command 
 both windows, I report to my less fortunately 
 situated friends the facts in the case. 
 
 "That old priest is in the house next to ours ! " 
 I exclaim. " Yes, 'tis the same one, and here 
 comes his artist friend in the very same Tyrol- 
 ean costume he had on yesterday in the Parten- 
 kirchen inn. I wonder why he carries his knapsack 
 everywhere ! Do you suppose he will take it 
 to the play ? " 
 
 " I don't know why not, when he carries it to 
 mass ! " they reply. 
 
 " I do wish you could see this old man coming ! "
 
 THE PASSION PLAY. 221 
 
 I exclaim. " He is a living picture of Christian 
 in ' The Pilgrim's Progress.' His green bag, or 
 knapsack, nearly bends his toil-worn frame to 
 the ground. He has just arrived, I do believe, 
 and no tJoubt is from Unterammergau, or some 
 neighboring town." 
 
 By this time the villagers are all astir. 
 
 The bakers' boys wheel straw wagons full of 
 bread one way, and return with them empty, their 
 Sunday suits showing signs of their trade. 
 
 Beautiful cattle wander peacefully toward the 
 pastures, their tinkling bells chiming mountain 
 melodies in tune to their deliberate gait. 
 
 Towards the east I look again and see that the 
 sun gilds the front of Burgomaster Lang's house, 
 one of the largest in the village. The front is cov- 
 ered with saintly frescoes and festoons of flowers, 
 and now the board blinds are thrown back from 
 the windows, and this fact should declare the day 
 fully arisen. Behind this house, the Kofel, a green 
 hill, stands boldly out, and on its top is a cross 
 that indicates the pious villagers have climbed 
 the requisite two thousand feet to place it there. 
 
 I call this a hill, as I see the towering " Zug- 
 spitze," five times its height, and " Wetterstein," 
 nearly three times as tall, with their heads in the 
 morning mist.
 
 222 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 At 6.30 the sun is really up, and, as he beams 
 upon the town, I am sure all holders of five-mark 
 tickets are full of thankfulness, for these seat one 
 in the open air. 
 
 I muse upon the state of affairs in Ammergau, 
 everything being so different from what has been 
 reported to me, and then indulge in a short nap 
 until seven o'clock. 
 
 When I awoke our fourth companion had gone, 
 and this was all I ever knew of her. 
 
 After coffee, bread and marmalade at a neigh- 
 boring cafe, we are ready to start for the play. It 
 has suddenly clouded, is cold, and a slight rain 
 causes umbrellas of all kinds and colors to be pro- 
 duced. This we discover is a cloud come down 
 upon us, when we get out of the town, winding 
 our way theaterwards, between rows of temporary 
 booths, erected for the sale of photographs, 
 librettos and food of a very plain type. 
 
 The owners are alert and ready to sell ; and 
 this phase of the surroundings I did not endorse. 
 However, I doubt if they were villagers proper, 
 since those all had their regular shops and seemed 
 home-keeping people. At all fetes and grand 
 church celebrations in France and Italy, the peo- 
 ple carry on business as we do at a county fair. 
 Why, therefore, should much-criticized Ammergau
 
 THE PASSION PLAY. 223 
 
 be an exception to the rule on the continent ? 
 Our tickets read : 
 
 (gintritts-Karte N9. 158 
 
 in 
 
 (Dberammergau 
 
 5 fH. 
 
 At the entrance to the theater we go up some 
 rude board steps, and are at the entrance door. 
 
 A vast audience is already seated. The ushers 
 tear our pasteboard ticket, leaving us the check, as 
 in American theaters, and quickly show us our 
 seat. Again we are surprised at the quiet and 
 systematic arrangements for seating over five 
 thousand people, and sit down in our special seat 
 as if in a dream. 
 
 Is this really the Passion Play we are about to 
 witness ? and how shall we be impressed ? are, 
 doubtless, the questions each person present has 
 asked himself. Let me give you my experience. 
 
 The libretto I had decided the most convenient, 
 was one bound in green, that had, reached its fifth 
 edition, as the title-page announced, published in 
 Munich, 1890, by Frederich Adolf Ackermann.
 
 224 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 Its first page was illustrated by a half-tone cut of 
 Christ knocking at the door, by Prof. H. Hoffman, 
 and inside the cover the play and players were 
 named, as follows : 
 
 THE GREAT SACRIFICE 
 
 REDEMPTION ON GOLGOTHA 
 
 or the History of the suffering and death 
 
 of our Lord JESUS CHRIST according to the four Gospels. 
 With tableaux, representing scenes of the Old Testament. 
 
 PERSONS. 
 
 Christ Josef Mayr. 
 
 John Peter Rendl. 
 
 Peter Jacob Hett. 
 
 Judas Johann Zwink. 
 
 Virgin Mary Rosa Lang. 
 
 Mary Magdalen Amalie Deschler. 
 
 Martha Helena Lang. 
 
 Jos. of Arimathea M. Oppenrieder. 
 
 Nikodemus Frz. Steinbacher. 
 
 Caiaphas Burgerm. Lang. 
 
 Annas Franz Rutz sen. 
 
 Nathaniel Seb. Lang jun. 
 
 Rabbi Seb. Bauer. 
 
 Pilate Thomas Rendl. 
 
 Herod Johann Diemer. 
 
 Sim. of Bethany Gregor Lechner. 
 
 Simon Cyrenian Michael Bauer.
 
 THE PASSION PLAY. 225 
 
 Salome Anna Hager. 
 
 Hagar Mar. Wiedemann. 
 
 Sara Maria Haser. 
 
 Veronika Elsie Zunterer. 
 
 Dathan Anton Meier. 
 
 Selpha Alois Meier. 
 
 Ezekiel Rochus Lang. 
 
 Faustus Martin Liebher. 
 
 Ahasuerus Gilbert Rutz. 
 
 Servant of Pilate Josef Bierling. 
 
 Barabas Job. Oswald. 
 
 I .Malefactor Anton Lang. 
 
 II Malefactor Eduard Bierling. 
 
 Angel Rosa Zwink. 
 
 Andrew, Thomas, Both Jacobs, Philipp, Thaddeus, 
 Simon and the other Deciples, Malchus. 
 
 Priests, Pharisees, Courtiers, Captains, Soldiers, 
 Leaders, Lictors, Executioners, Writers, People, 
 Children, Crowd. 
 
 Leading of the play : Biirgermeister Lang. Leading of 
 the tableaux : Zeichenlehrer Lang. Leading of the music : 
 Lehrer Gruber. Choragus : Jakob Rutz. 
 
 SOPRAN. Josepha Breitsammter, Ludovica Gindhart, Anna 
 Korntheuer, Luzie Lang, Aloisia Mayr, Regina Wolf, 
 Maria Samm. 
 
 ALT. Antonia Albl, Crescenz Bierling, Johanna Keller, 
 Crescenz Klamer, Magdalena Kopf, Marie Lutz, Josepha 
 Steidle. 
 
 TENOR. Otto Anderl, Korbinian Christa, Alois Lang, 
 Anton Lechner, Dominikus Schilcher. 
 
 BASS. Joseph Gabler, Anton Lutz, Otto Mangold, Kor- 
 binian Rutz.
 
 226 AS WE SAW IT IN '9G. 
 
 Next to the title-page came a few reprinted 
 letters of introduction, and then a cut of the thea- 
 ter, with description. I give it verbatim without 
 comment : 
 
 The Oberammeigau Theater, 
 
 with numbered folding-seats, gives room enough for 4000 
 spectators. 
 
 Seats: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. j I. II. III. 
 
 A dmission : Marks 10. , 8. , 6. , 5. , 3. , i. fare roofed. 
 
 There are 2 separate rooms for princes giving 16 seats. 
 
 Performance from 8 4^. 
 
 Pouse to take a lunch : n^ i. 
 
 Do not forget an opera glas ! 
 
 BEDS: The village has 2500 beds, a 2 3 Marks, the better 
 ones 4 5 Mark. 
 
 Every Privathouse gives boarding and every 
 house of accommodation gets so many tickets as 
 it has beds. 
 
 During the last ten years, there have been built 16 new 
 privathouses and a pretty handsome Villa of Madame \Vil- 
 helmine Hillern, writer of some good german novels, further 
 an excellent school for woodcarvers and a large hospital. 
 
 OBERAMMERGAU may be reached from three quarters 
 (Railway prospectus, Cabs and Carriage see inside of the 
 binding). 
 
 After this, comes several views of Ammergau, 
 Partenkirchen, Oberau and Ettal, with a descrip- 
 tion of the play from its inception in the middle 
 ages.
 
 THE PASSION PLAY. 227 
 
 This is a more than many-times-told tale, yet 
 for the benefit of my readers I will give a hasty 
 synopsis : 
 
 Christianity is the cause of the Passion Play, 
 which statement may surprise many and induce 
 others to see it, if it is given in 1900, as I believe 
 will be the case. 
 
 In Pagan days all races loved the stage and its 
 allurements, and when many years after Christ 
 came and gave Himself as the lamb for the great 
 Sacrifice of Redemption, a reformation swept 
 through the land, people were still desirous of 
 being amused, but in a manner fitted to their 
 changed condition and religious ardor. Along 
 with churchmen and artists who worked to beau- 
 tify churches and all that pertained to them, 
 with fine stained glass, illuminated missals and 
 unique architecture in those days works which 
 will never perish while Christianity exists lived 
 men who wrote sacred plays. These Mysteries 
 were beloved of the people, and since churchmen 
 not only gave them their blessing, but were their 
 authors, no wonder they grew in favor. 
 
 When the whitewash period came, as antithesis 
 of all the luxury and indulgence that had pre- 
 ceded it, and the Reformation had torn from the 
 Church some of its staunchest supporters, such 
 plays were frowned on along with the luxury in
 
 228 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 which the Church had indulged its votaries. But 
 in many by-paths and mountain recesses these 
 plays, unnoticed, still flourished and one of them, 
 Oberammergau, shows to-day a record unparalleled 
 by any other village of its size in the world. 
 
 Only once, that during the Thirty Year's War, 
 had their desire to discontinue the representation 
 of some one or other of the many religious plays 
 been manifested. Then, to their peculiar minds 
 were they severely reprimanded, for a plague 
 came into their .midst, as if to remind them of their 
 sluggishness. So evident was this reproof, that a 
 vow, kept sacredly to date, was made to continue 
 these plays should the plague subside. With its 
 subsidence, every decade the Passion Spiel has 
 been given, and only once has it been interrupted, 
 viz., during the Franco-Prussian War. 
 
 After this explanation, can anyone imagine that 
 four centuries of continued activity on this plan 
 could help but make Oberammergau unique ? 
 
 As birds fly, as even the tiniest rootlet of the 
 crocus that empurples their fields is indigenous, 
 as the Ammer, impelled by an unknown but irre- 
 sistible force, wends its way in liquid purity through 
 their town, so naturally do the peasants of Ober- 
 ammergau perform this Passion Play. Do not for 
 a moment imagine this is all they do. I am told 
 that never a year, and scarcely three months,
 
 THE PASSION PLAY. 229 
 
 passes, without some play being given, for which 
 they are in active preparation. 
 
 Despite this, they live even lives, working day 
 by day at their trade at wood-carving, and from 
 the time the first villager is seen until we leave, it 
 is impossible to obtain evidences of any dissipation 
 among them. Knowing this, it seems but natural 
 that they should be able to act out the lives of just 
 such humble men and women as themselves, for if 
 the " sins of the forefathers are visited upon the 
 children unto the third and fourth generations," 
 in same proportion must goodness and talent be 
 hereditary, and hence this absolutely unique race 
 of Bavarian peasants. 
 
 The entire village participates, five and six hun- 
 dred persons, from children to old men and women, 
 fill the stage in the tableaux, and during the play, 
 and when all is over, it is impossible for one to 
 realize that a play and not a reality has been wit- 
 nessed. From the "entry into Jerusalem" to the 
 ascension this marvellous spectacle is enacted with- 
 out a flaw. Time is annihilated, identity is for- 
 gotten, and as if actually living in A. D. 31, you 
 glory in, believe in, and suffer with the Christ. 
 
 Hence the absurdity of crying out against it, of 
 calling it anything but very sacred, of pretending 
 for a moment it is not purely religious and a help, 
 even for the most rigid Protestant.
 
 230 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 The play in its present form owes its purity and 
 rhythm to a former priest of the village named 
 Daisenberger. He really transformed the play, 
 accentuating the part of the Christus and remov- 
 ing the devil from it altogether, the fact that there 
 was a Judas being to his mind enough evidence 
 that his Satanic majesty was still rampant. 
 
 Half a century ago this young and cultured 
 priest saw the necessity of broadening the play for 
 the times. From the churchyard, the scene of 
 action was removed to the edge of the town, and 
 such innovations as the stage, the chorus and 
 many other details added. 
 
 These prefatory notes I gained hints of while 
 waiting, in almost feverish impatience for the cur- 
 tain to rise. At eight o'clock exactly solemn music 
 breaks the silence. This comes from an unseen 
 orchestra, and then the chorus of twenty-four, half 
 men and half women, issues from both sides of the 
 stage, out of Doric colonnades. As they meet in 
 the middle of the stage, the leader announces that 
 the sacred play is about to begin. 
 
 In a glance you notice all are in the costume of 
 the Greek chorus, consisting of white tunics, edged 
 with gold embroidery, and about them are thrown 
 colored mantles, which assist to make a brilliant 
 and yet harmonious picture. Upon their heads 
 are golden crowns, and upon their feet sandals.
 
 THE PASSION PLAY. 231 
 
 The women's faces are peaceful rather than beau- 
 tiful. Many of the men are very handsome, all 
 with their long hair and bronzed, health-colored 
 faces, make a favorable impression. 
 
 As they sing in steady, homespun voices the 
 touching prologue, you gaze upon the scene in 
 undisguised admiration. Directly over the center 
 portion of the stage in the tympanum is the repre- 
 sentation of Christ enthroned, surrounded by an 
 adoring multitude. The curtain has three prophets 
 upon it Isaiah and Jeremiah at the sides and in 
 the center, Moses. 
 
 As the first tableau is given, this curtain is 
 rolled up, and only descends between the eighteen 
 representations, the scene curtain, being divided 
 in the center. The upper part of this has an open 
 Bible upon it, the lower, ten anciently clad figures, 
 indicative of the Decalogue. 
 
 As the first tableau is given, the chorus grace- 
 fully divide, the twelve men going to one side of 
 the stage, the twelve women to the other. This 
 represents Adam and Eve being driven from Eden, 
 and but for the browned hand and wrist of the angel, 
 you would hardly believe they were alive. As you 
 gaze upon this scene, the chorus continue their 
 explanatory chant, and as the curtain closes, 
 they prepare you for the next, which is of a 
 cross about which cling thirteen children, in
 
 232 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 prayer. The chorus kneel in adoration, and a 
 chorus of children's voices sing : " Eternal One ! 
 O hear the stammering of Thy children ! " etc., 
 until the end. 
 
 The chorus now quietly slip back again in to 
 the porticoes, and all eyes are fastened upon the 
 stage for the entrance of the Christus. 
 
 A distant murmur, as of an approaching multi- 
 tude, is heard, then it comes nearer, you hear the 
 cry of Hosanna ! Hosanna! and as the curtain rises, 
 people fill the stage, exactly as they should under 
 the circumstances, waving palm branches, and 
 strewing them upon the road. Now, the whole of 
 the middle stage can be seen, and for its back- 
 ground, real hills and sky tend to remove the idea 
 that it is a stage at all. On either side extend 
 streets beneath high walls, from whose summit 
 grow palms. These wave inarticulately in the air, 
 and this one thing ( in my mind ) added greatly 
 to the scene. 
 
 All eyes are now strained to catch a glimpse of 
 the Christus, and finally he comes, sitting sideway 
 on an ass, clad in a mauve garment, with a seam- 
 less cloak of magenta about him. 
 
 The people break forth into a song of the most 
 impromptu type as he advances, saying: "All 
 hail ! all hail ! O David's son." You notice his 
 companions are poorly dressed, and carry long
 
 THE PASSION PLAY. 233 
 
 staffs, to help them on their journey. The crowd 
 surge, move, go in and out from the middle stage 
 to the streets, and then on to the very front of 
 the stage, many of them exchanging satisfied 
 glances with their kindred and friends, at the 
 coming of Christ. 
 
 As the chorus ceases, priests and scribes enter 
 from one of the side streets, gesticulating and 
 talking earnestly among themselves at such an 
 ovation expended upon this poor, unknown, and 
 to them, audacious Galilean. 
 
 They are richly dressed, visibly puffed up with 
 pride and anger, and much worried withal, as to 
 the outcome of this demonstration. 
 
 Now comes the supreme moment ! Christ, 
 having quietly left the ass, comes out on to the 
 stage by one of the streets, and you wait in 
 impatience for him to speak. His face you cannot 
 criticise, except that you would have Mayr ten 
 years younger, and when he says, " What do I see ? 
 The house of my father dishonored in such a 
 way ! " your attention is directed to the center of 
 the stage, which, quite unnoticed by you, has been 
 transformed into the portico of the temple at 
 Jerusalem. People engaged in trade are oblivious 
 of Christ's presence, until he bursts forth in angry 
 remonstrance, turning over the money tables and 
 freeing the doves.
 
 234 AS IV E SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 These fly directly over our heads towards the 
 village, and, with their disappearance, Christ 
 calms himself, and never again do we hear him 
 remonstrate, except in gentlest tones. Yes, Mayr's 
 voice was most liquid and sweet, and my only 
 regret, as a Protestant, was, that he did not follow 
 the familiar texts of our gospels, instead of using 
 a version of it. 
 
 This act of the Christus causes a tumult among 
 the reproved people, and the clever priests and 
 wily members of the Sanhedrim catch at their 
 anger, and urge them to attack this audacious 
 man. He prophesying to them about the down- 
 fall of Jerusalem, enters the Temple. 
 
 The third scene shows us Caiaphas, Annas 
 and Nathaniel, the foremost of the Sanhedrim, 
 in consultation. All of these men are very won- 
 derful. Each has a grand voice, and their dia- 
 logue is more natural and impetuous than I can 
 ever describe to you. 
 
 They are interrupted in the fourth scene by the 
 irate merchants, who urge them to present their 
 complaint before the Sanhedrim. Like drowning 
 men, they catch at this straw of comfort, viz. : 
 the righteous indignation of Christ. 
 
 As the big curtain falls, I find one hour has 
 flown during this, the first representation or act. 
 
 A sigh goes through the audience, which
 
 THE PASSION PLAY. 235 
 
 increases to a murmur, not so loud but that the 
 twitter of happy birds, flying in and out of the 
 Gedeck, seems almost a disturbance. 
 
 Yes, without doubt, the audience is en rapport 
 with it, and too much praise cannot be given the 
 entire company, that so ably sustained their prom- 
 ise during the summer of '90, to give twenty-five 
 regular, and as many more extra, performances of 
 this great drama. 
 
 The second representation had four scenes, also. 
 
 ist. The assembly of the Sanhedrim. 
 
 2d. Caiaphas' promise to them to annihilate 
 the impostor. 
 
 3d. The interview with the angry merchants. 
 
 4th. The Sanhedrim congratulating themselves 
 that victory is within reach. 
 
 This consumes probably forty-five minutes, and 
 every dialogue and scene is replete with natural 
 motion and interest. 
 
 Annas Franz Rutz, Sen. is already a friend of 
 ours, and we have his Schneidermeister card, 
 giving his house as No. 52 ; and on one side of it 
 the announcement that Elise Rutz sells candy, 
 cake, etc., at the same number. 
 
 The murmur that follows this representation 
 shows unanimous approval, and is only stilled by 
 the chorus, which files out directly the curtain 
 goes down.
 
 236 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 The third representation was, next to the cruci- 
 fixion, the most touching. 
 
 The first tableau is of Tobias taking leave of 
 his mother. For two minutes the figures are per- 
 fectly posed for our view, the only motion in the 
 picture being the angel's gown, which is stirred by 
 the wind. 
 
 The chorus meanwhile chant a farewell. 
 
 The second tableau, which emphasizes the com- 
 ing parting of Christ from his mother, is of the 
 loving bride lamenting over her absent spouse, 
 from Solomon's songs. This was given as a solo 
 by one of the chorus in a most pathetic voice, and 
 when the chorus take up the consolatory reply of 
 the daughters of Jerusalem, the melodious ensem- 
 ble cannot fail to bring tears to even the most 
 stoical eye. 
 
 The first scene gives us Christ with his disciples 
 for the first time. How exactly like they are 
 to what we have always fancied them ! Philip, 
 no longer young, with gray beard ; Andrew, alert 
 and business-like ; Peter, the fisherman, also gray 
 hair and short, curling beard ; John, young, gen- 
 tle, and always near Christ ; Judas, stalwart, dark- 
 haired and nervous to a degree, and Simon, a dear 
 old man one loved from the first. 
 
 The second scene is near Simon's house. Mary 
 Magdelene and Martha welcome Christ as he
 
 THE PASSION PLA Y. 237 
 
 approaches. Never was I so thrilled, as by the 
 Magdelene, saying, " Rabbi ! Rabbi ! " as she 
 pressed toward him. Had she never spoken again 
 her mark would have been made. 
 
 The third scene is in Simon's house. The table 
 is spread, and in the rear three open windows give 
 views of natural trees and hills. Peter beseeches 
 Christ to remain there. His every motion tells, 
 and he is clad in a blue gown with yellow mantle. 
 Here the Magdelene enters, and, gliding to the 
 feet of Christ, annoints his feet with rare oint- 
 ment and wipes them veritably with her hair. 
 Again comes her " Rabbi ! Rabbi ! " which goes to 
 your very soul. 
 
 Judas here demonstrates at the extravagance of 
 Magdelene's a.ct, and is only silenced when Christ 
 gently reproves him. 
 
 In the fourth scene he bids them farewell, and 
 in the fifth scene the parting from his mother 
 would break even a heart of stone ! This occu- 
 pies twenty minutes and is the best effort of Rosa 
 Lang, the beautiful daughter of the Burgomaster, 
 who is Caiaphas. She is much too young for her 
 son and dresses exactly like the Carlo Dolci 
 Madonnas ; but I was told the incongruity was 
 explained by the fact that the people never thought 
 the Virgin Mother ever became old, and so, if 
 they were satisfied, we should be.
 
 238 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 The fourth representation shows us Christ on 
 the road to Jerusalem. John and Peter are sent 
 ahead to prepare the passover, John lovely in an 
 apple-green gown, and wine-red mantle. Judas 
 demurs about going. Dathan and his compan- 
 ions approach him, and this scene where Judas, 
 being tempted, promises Christ's betrayal, is truly 
 wonderful. 
 
 The final and sixth scene takes twenty minutes 
 and is a soliloquy by Judas. 
 
 The fifth representation began at 10.20 o'clock. 
 Huge white clouds have arisen from behind the 
 stage, and I begin to fear fain is coming. 
 
 This has but two scenes, and is preceded by two 
 admirable pictures ; in the second, grapes brought 
 from Canaan foreshadow the Holy Supper. 
 
 To this, John and Peter, having gone ahead to 
 prepare it, welcome Christ and the other disciples. 
 
 The stage setting is after the familiar Da Vinci 
 in Milan, and any one who has ever communed 
 in memory of this last feast, could not help but 
 appreciate this farewell gift, the closest bond, 
 next to prayer, between Christ and his followers. 
 
 The curtain rises upon them seated. After a 
 short conversation, Christ removes his mantle, and 
 girding a towel about him, washes one foot of 
 each disciple, sometimes the right, sometimes the 
 left, going from one to the other, until all is fin-
 
 THE PASSION PLAY. 239 
 
 ished. Beginning with Peter, he comes to John 
 last. Tis all done with gentle deliberation. Judas 
 meanwhile looks pensive and unhappy. 
 
 Then comes the communion. The bread is the 
 cinnamon and sugar-covered coffee bread of the 
 Germans, and 'tis all passed with a quiet com- 
 posure most wonderful to behold. Then the sop 
 is given Judas, after which he goes out. Christ 
 bids them farewell, Peter avers fidelity, and at 10.55 
 this scene ends. 
 
 The sixth representation is preceded by a tableau 
 of Joseph sold into Egypt, and one other. Joseph, 
 a regular peasant lad, is scantily clad, his legs are 
 bare, and the part where he wears his Tyrolese 
 stocking, is white, in contrast to the tan of his 
 knee and ankle. 
 
 Here again we have the Sanhedrim, the bargain 
 for Christ, and Judas's avaricious desire for the 
 thirty pieces of silver, which one of the priests 
 counts out with tantalizing slowness. Nicodemus 
 remonstrates against this wicked bargain, and 
 leaves the room. 
 
 Caiaphas, Annas and Nathaniel are in gorgeous 
 robes, and the Pharisees are known by a brass 
 band on their forehead, such as a dienstmann wears 
 at all railway stations on his left arm to tell his 
 number. This ends at 11.20 o'clock. 
 
 The seventh representation is prefaced by a
 
 240 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 tableau of Adam, Eve and three children, naked 
 but for lamb-skins thrown about them. 
 
 This has seven scenes. 
 
 First, Judas is seen guiding the guards to the 
 Mount of Olives. Second and third, Christ in the 
 garden receives the bitter cup from an angel's 
 hand (wonderfully let down by invisible wires). 
 Fourth, Judas approaches and betrays him. 
 
 It is now 12 o'clock exactly, so prompt has been 
 each change in scene and chorus, and we have one 
 hour and a half, after four hours of breathless 
 excitement, in which to refresh ourselves. 
 
 The wind had come up since morning, but the 
 clouds were settling nearer and nearer us, and I 
 felt sure that before we were through rain would 
 come. It was cold beyond expression. I sat wrapped 
 in a Roman blanket, and the audience generally 
 presented an incongruous appearance. But they 
 were all in earnest and all enthralled. Luncheon 
 being over, we hasten back. I am early enough to 
 watch the people come in, for I want to see the 
 ex-Empress Eugenie who has the left-hand box. 
 She is still beautiful, is dressed in black, and her 
 hair is quite gray. 
 
 Back of me, just under the Gedeck, a woman 
 with two children comes in laden with a bag of 
 something. Just as I am wondering what it might 
 contain, the bag gives away, and the contents
 
 THE PASSION PL A Y. 241 
 
 (pears) come scampering, helter-skelter, down the 
 inclined floor. She is German, and takes the 
 occurrence with composure. It is too laughable 
 to see her receiving her runaway goods from a 
 score of men, who have rescued them at different 
 stages of their journey, and, stranger still, this 
 incident was a relief after all the strain that we 
 had just passed through, and every witness took 
 the occasion to exercise the risible muscles of 
 his face. 
 
 The eighth representation began at 1.30 p. M., 
 sharp, and everybody was seated promptly. 
 
 From now on the scenery is more varied. Annas 
 appears at the door of his house to the right of 
 the stage, and opposite a stir seems evident in the 
 house of Pilate. 
 
 In the fifth scene, Peter and John come on 
 together, and form a picture of youth and age ; 
 they demand from Annas the whereabouts of the 
 Master. 
 
 Before the ninth representation, we have a tab- 
 leau, where Jezebel is accused of counterfeiting 
 Ahab's name, and where Job's wife and friends 
 desire him to curse God. 
 
 In this* Christ is pushed through the multitude, 
 which is rabid for his blood, on to Caiaphas' house, 
 who desires his people to be firm. Judas, seeing 
 this, begins to realize the harm that is coming
 
 242 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 to the Master. In the hall of Caiaphas, Peter 
 denies Christ, then repents bitterly, which bit of 
 acting is his best, and the last scene shows us 
 Christ being taunted in Caiaphas' house by the 
 soldiers. 
 
 This ends at 2.25 p. M. 
 
 The tenth representation is opened by a picture 
 of Cain, the type of Judas. 
 
 The second scene shows Judas before the San- 
 hedrim, begging for a knowledge of what is to 
 befall his Master. This and the third scene are 
 most impressive, the priests being in gorgeous rai- 
 ment. Then as Judas goes out Christ is brought 
 in and finally led away amid the cry of " Death to 
 the Galilean !'" 
 
 Before the eleventh representation, the picture 
 shows Daniel in the lion's den. This is decidedly 
 a masterpiece. 
 
 After this Jesus is brought before Pilate, and 
 finally led up on the balcony. Pilate asks him, 
 "What is truth?" While Pilate is wishing he 
 never had heard of this man he would like to free, 
 the Sanhedrim approach with a vast crowd. This 
 scene is most varied and well conducted. All the 
 by-play is perfect and natural. The last scene is 
 Judas' farewell. His remorse is intense and I 
 would I had space to quote from his words. 
 
 In the twelfth representation Christ is sent to
 
 THE PASSION PLAY. 243 
 
 Herod. This scene was the only tiresome one I 
 witnessed. Herod might have been better, and, 
 unfortunately, you know in advance there is no 
 reprieve for the Son of God, because none has 
 been demanded. 
 
 Before the thirteenth representation, occurs the 
 tableau of Joseph's coat being carried to his 
 father. The chorus and solo here are most solemn, 
 and the youth I had seen at the Rathhaus about 
 tickets gave the solo. The music was good and 
 harmonious throughout. 
 
 Again in the first scene is Christ brought before 
 Pilate, this time by the Sanhedrim, headed by 
 Caiaphas and a vast crowd, who, demanding Bar- 
 abbas, cry, " Crucify him ! Crucify him ! " 
 
 I realized for the first time here that German 
 was spoken, for the German, " kreuzigen," to cru- 
 cify, seemed as if nothing had been said, whereas 
 the very worse had come to pass. 
 
 Before the fourteenth representation, Joseph in 
 Egypt is seen to be honored by the king, and car- 
 ried on shoulders of slaves, two darkey lads pro- 
 tecting his face from the sun's rays. All through 
 this part, the music is grand, as if a supreme effort 
 was made. 
 
 In the first scene Nathaniel calls on the people 
 to 'throw themselves into the arms of the sacred 
 Sanhedrim, which will save them, and they go en
 
 244 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 masse to demand the sentence of Christ's cruci- 
 fixion from Pilate. He begs them to desist, but 
 they are decided in their demands, and, after wash- 
 ing his hands, he declares that he pronounces the 
 sentence at the express wish of the priests, and, 
 breaking his wand of office, exclaims, " Now 
 take him and crucify him ! " With this, Jesus is 
 hustled off to Golgotha, and more's the pity 
 without one friend in sight. 
 
 As the .fifteenth representation commences, the 
 rain begins to fall, but everybody is too absorbed 
 to mind it. 
 
 The tableau shows Moses lifting up the serpent 
 in the wilderness, as Christ shall be lifted up. 
 
 Now the chorus come out in black robes, as well 
 as head-bands, girdles and sandals, the only thing 
 to criticize in their part being that the music was 
 not minor. 
 
 In the first scene, Mary comes in. Her gown is 
 old pink and over it a robin's-egg blue mantle 
 with white head drape. She is supported by John, 
 and they are in search of Christ. Then comes the 
 crowd, with Christ too weak after their ill-treat- 
 ment to bear his immense cross. Simon of Cyrene 
 throws himself into the breach, and as they pass, 
 Mary and John behold it all. That they suffer 
 urjtold agony is visible. Here a servant of Pilate 
 comes in, bidding them stay the execution, but
 
 THE PA SSWN PLA Y. 245 
 
 Caiaphas is not to be balked in this, his dearest 
 desire, and hurries them on. 
 
 In the sixteenth representation the chorus is 
 still in black, and, despite the rain is coming down 
 briskly, sing and do their part with fortitude. 
 Here dull, thudding sounds send a chill to our 
 souls and proclaim the fact that Christ is crucified. 
 The curtain rises on Golgotha ; there is no longer 
 any picture to typify the real tragedy. The young 
 and old thieves are already on the crosses, at 
 either side 
 
 Now, in our presence, Christ crucified is raised, 
 and without doubt this is the most consummate 
 piece of stage effect in the world to-day. How 
 Mayr is nailed to the cross no one knows, but to 
 all effect he is really crucified. 
 
 Now comes the grief of Mary, John and the 
 Magdelene, who, as soon as the crucifixion is 
 accomplished, are allowed to approach the cross. 
 The whole scene is one familiar to every one. 
 Then comes the " Mother, behold thy son," from 
 the pale lips of the martyr, and as he expires after 
 the sop, and the artificial earthquake comes, the 
 rain descends and the real thunder echoes and 
 re-echoes overhead, making the scene truly terrific 
 and most appalling ! 
 
 After his side is pierced he is then tenderly
 
 246 AS WE SAW IT IN '90. 
 
 taken down from the cross. This is perfectly 
 managed, after which they place him at his 
 mother's feet, dead. 
 
 This scene occupies fifteen minutes. 
 
 The seventeenth and last representation was 
 marred by the rain, although the chorus went 
 faithfully through with its part, having again on 
 their colored garments. No umbrellas are allowed 
 up, so at the beginning of the scene I cover myself 
 with my rug aTid patiently await the resurrection. 
 This last scene is quite needed, to help me smile 
 again, since the reality of the crucifixion has been 
 most harrowing. 
 
 Would I see it again ? No, I could not, but 
 because I have seen it I am a better Christian and 
 honestly admire the hardy, pure and undefiled race 
 of nineteenth-century peasants who can carry out 
 such a representation. The detail throughout is 
 marvellous, and one has to be very thankful that 
 such is the fact. 
 
 Many have said it was absurd, others did not 
 see it when in the neighborhood, because they 
 had decided it was a fraud ; but I think it is a 
 piece of kindness, on the part of these people, 
 that the world is allowed to see it. As to the 
 compensation received being more than a nominal 
 sum, I am prepared to contradict such a state-
 
 THE PA SSION PLA Y. 247 
 
 merit. The actors are only paid for the extra 
 week-day performances, that take them from 
 home and field duties. 
 
 The rumor that the Passion Play of '90 was run 
 by a syndicate of any kind is untrue, as I am 
 informed officially, a bit of knowledge I went to 
 some pains to obtain. 
 
 As I understand it, the play was produced, and 
 all expenses borne, by the community who gave it. 
 Therefore, the proceeds of tickets sold belonged 
 to them. No doubt outside parties may have 
 rented houses, or even built them, in the hope of 
 filling them in the summer. If so, as owners of 
 rooms, they received tickets for their guests. 
 Cook and Gaze, no doubt, had some such arrange- 
 ment, and hence they had the right to get ten- 
 mark seats in advance, if they wanted to chance it. 
 
 Our landlord came from Munich, for the sum- 
 mer, but was originally from here. 
 
 We were simply too fatigued to go off that 
 night, as did most of the audience, and so slept 
 again quietly in our cosy beds, while the rain came 
 down in torrents. 
 
 The next morning we left at eight o'clock for 
 Oberau via Ettal, stopping on the way to visit its 
 curious church and monastery, which is certainly 
 unique.
 
 248 A S WE SA W 1 T JN '90. 
 
 A book, instead of pages, could 'alone do credit 
 to this remarkable remnant of antiquity, which 
 looks to me rooted in Oberammergau. Bone of 
 its people's bone, flesh of their flesh, which, while 
 it cannot harm, may be of use to quicken by 
 chance dormant Christians, and I trust all who see 
 it in 1900 will be as impressed and benefited as we 
 were by our visit to this Alpine sanctuary. 
 
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 room, as in compartments below the desk he will find diagrams of each steamer, showing 
 berth and deck arrangements. 
 
 Supplemental to this are guide books for all quarters of the globe, including the latest 
 issues of the standard works, with some rare volumes treating on parts of the world not 
 often visited. The monthly journals issued by the tourists' offices are also on file, and 
 serve as skeleton helps for those who desire to take the usual routes, or who prefer to 
 be "personally conducted." Tours of this kind may be arranged through the bank. 
 
 Another feature of the Travelers' Room is a small bulletin board, which records 
 the daily arrivals, both in New York and at foreign ports, of the principal steamers. 
 This list is kept promptly up to date, and is of use to persons who are watching for the 
 whereabouts of friends en route. 
 
 In the matter of arrangements for money every modern convenience is offered, by 
 letters of credit, by drafts and checks, foreign money, etc., etc. Formerly travelers from 
 this point were obliged, when procuring letters of credit, to come in some days ahead, 
 forward signatures and wait anxiously for return of credits, which sometimes came too 
 late. All this is now obviated. The bank has on hand a practically unlimited amount 
 of the letters of credit of Brown Bros. & Co., signed in blank, which may be filled out 
 at a moment's notice, and are available in all parts of the world. Thus the traveler 
 may get his letter at the Bank of Buffalo as late as the afternoon before sailing, as has 
 been frequently done. 
 
 Where letters of introduction are of advantage, the bank undertakes to furnish them 
 to parties producing proper credentials, and also allows the usual terms on deposit 
 left as security for credits. 
 
 To more completely cover the ground seems hardly possible, and the traveler for 
 any part of the world Europe, Asia or Africa, as well as California, Mexico or the West 
 Indies will find himself well prepared if he avails himself of the advantages offered. 
 
 We always have in Stock a Large Assortment of 
 
 (Qaruers ar;d Table HfriueS. . { with SU v Sid5? g and 
 
 Unii/PC 1 of Rodgers, Westenholm and 
 
 > V/ lug >i other makes. 
 
 j ^ 
 
 ( 
 
 tne hig nest quality; also an 
 immense variety of 
 
 WALBRIDOE & CO, 
 
 Hardware Dealers, 
 317, 319, 321 Washington St., Buffalo, N. Y.
 
 UC5B LIBRARY