A few days after his visit, it was my fortune to tread in his steps to the same classic shrine. The barefooted and talkative guide who accompanied me over the castle, thus described the Ariosto of the North, and his companions: A tall, bulky man, who halted a great deal, came here with his daughter and a thin lady, and a great dash of a gentleman, with a bright eye, that looked here and there and every where in a minute. They thrust themselves, ransacking, into every nook and cranny that a rat would not go through, scarcely. When the lame gentleman came to the top of the castle, he was delighted, and took all the country down upon paper: then one of us sang 'The Groves of Blarney.' He made us sing it again, and said that he'd converse a poem on the castle himself, may be!'

The curious reader will hardly consider it an useless digression, if I here introduce two or three stanzas of the song which could tempt Scott into a half promise to converse a poem on the castle himself, may be!' It is one of the most ridiculous extravaganzas (ridiculous by intention) that was ever penned. The con-fusion of its similes, and the pro-fusion of its praise, run counter in a poetical hand gallop. example:

"Tis Lady Jeffereys that owns this station,

Like Alexander or Helen fair;

There's not one commander throughout this nation,

For emulation can with her compare:

There's castles around her, but no nine pounder

Would dare for to enter this place of strength;

But Oliver Cromwell he did it pummel,

And made a breach in her battlement.'

What follows, must be intended for pure description:

'There's gravel walks there, for contemplation,
And conversation in sweet solitude:
'Tis there the lover may hear the dove, or
The gentle plover in the afternoon;
And if a young lady would be so engaging
As to take a walk in their shady bowers,
'Tis there her lover, he might transport her,

To some dark fort underneath the flowers.'

เ

For

There is something once new and naïve in the idea of 'gravel walks for contemplation,' and its rather rare, to hear 'conversation in sweet solitude.' N'importe! What is writ is writ: would it were worthier!' The last verse that I shall quote (I cannot resist the temptation,) is far richer:

'Tis there's the cave, where no daylight enters,
But cats, rats, and badgers for ever breed;
All decked by Nature, which makes it sweeter,
Than a coach and six, or a bed of down;
'Tis there the lake's well stored with perches,
And comely eels in the verdant mud,
Besides the leeches, and the groves of beeches

All standing up in order to guard the flood.'*

* Paudeen O'Rafferty's emendation of this stanza is in our opinion a great improveHe sings:

ment.

"T is there's the cave, where no daylight enters,

But cats, rats, and badgers are foriver bred;

All deck'd by Nature, which makes it much more complater,

Than a coach and six, or a downy bed.

"T is there's the lake, well stored with fishes,

And comely eels in the verdant mud that play

There's them trout and them salmon playin' together at ba'gammon,

And when you go to take hould o' them, don't they immadiently swim away!

The last four lines are quite inimitable. The comely eels in the verdant mud' would form quite a picture: but what can surpass the idea of the 'groves of beeches all standing up in order to guard the flood,' like so many tall sentinels? I know nothing like it in the whole range of poësy, except two lines in the cobler's song on castle Hyde, (of which, by the way, the Groves of Blarney, is an imitation,) which describe

'The trout and salmon, a playing back-ammon,

All by the banks of sweet Castle Hyde!'

It is time to leave these rhymes, and return to the redoubtable Tom Cronin, the best story-teller,' to use his own words, 'from the Giant's Causeway to Cape Clear.'

This worthy I met, after my visit to the castle. I had struck from the common path into that which led through the Rock Close. This valley is divided into several fields, all of which are extremely fertile, except that immediately washed by the lake. It was now in the month of June, and although the mower had begun to cut down the rich grass

of the other fields, there was scarcely a blade upon this one. All was

as green, smooth, and close-shaven, as the turf before a cottage ornée. While I was remarking this, I was startled by a sudden touch on the shoulder: turning round, I found myself vis-à-vis with an Herculeanbuilt fellow, who doffed his hat, made an attempt at a bow, and without farther preface, commenced:

'Wondering at this meadow being so bare, I'll warrant you, Sir?' 'Why, I must own that I was.'

And didn't know the why and the wherefore of it, may be? It's Tom Cronin, and that's myself, that can tell you all about it in the twinkling of an eye.'

And pray, who may Tom Cronin be?'

Faith, Sir, you know mighty little, if you don't know me! Not know Cronin, the great philomath, that bothered the provost of old Trinity by his mathematics? May be never once heard of the great Cronin, that does all the questions and answers in the Lady's Diary?' No, indeed, Mr. Cronin! But I'm a stranger here, as you may perceive.'

Strange enough, I'll be bound. Then I am that same Tom Cronin-our ingenious correspondent,' as the Mathematical Journal calls me, when it refuses one of my contributions for want of space,' bad luck to 'em as if they could not push out something else to make way for me. Mighty curious, altogether, Sir, that you never heard of me, that keeps one of the finest schools, under a hedge, in Munster! Sit down on the bank here, and I'll enlighten you so about that goodlooking lake before your two eyes, that you won't forget me in a hurry, I'll be bound.'

I complied with the desire of my new acquaintance, and listened to the following legend:

The place

who kept

ONCE upon a time, and there was no lake here at all. where that lake is, was a large castle, and in it there dwelt an unbaptized giant-'twas long before St. Patrick came to the country martial rule over all the country, far and near. At that time the Aw

martin, or any other river did not flow near us; and although there was plenty of wine in the castle, there was a great want of water. This was mighty inconvenient for the ladies of the castle- the fellow had as many wives as a Turk - they wanted sadly to wash their pretty faces, and their clothes, and more than that, they could not make a cup of tea, by any means.'

'Fair and easy, Mr. Cronin tea was not used in those days.'

'That's more than you know; and, once for all, it puts me out if I'm interrupted. So, one and all, they sent a petition to the giant, that he'd be good enough to get them a well of water. So, when he read it, he made no more adieu, but whipped off through the air, just like an angel, to his old aunt, who was a fairy, and had foretold that some day or other, water would be the death of him.

And when he met her, he told her what he came about, and said that he never would mind what the women prayed for, but it was greatly against his health to be obliged to drink his wine and whiskey raw, and he'd a longing desire for a little of the creature neatly mixed up with lemon and sugar, and water; which shows, clear as fate, that the barbarian knew what was good, for none but an ignoramus ever turned up his nose at a tumbler of whiskey punch.

'So, after a world of entreaty, the old fairy gave him a little bottle. 'Take this,' said she, and dig a hole in the rock behind the castle barbican, where the sun shines latest before he sinks into the west; make a stone cover for the top of it, that may fit exactly when that's done, pour the water out of this bottle into the hole in the rock, and there will be a well of pure water, as much as all your family can use; but when no one is taking water from the well, the stone cover must be on it, for it is the nature of this water to overflow, unless it be kept confined.'

To be sure, he gave her a thousand thanks, and home he went. The first thing he did was to quarry the hole in the rock; then to fit it with a stone cover; and, lastly, to pour in the water. Sure enough, there sprang up a well, and from that day forward they had as much water as ever they wanted. The giant then called all his family, and told them that the stone cover must always be over the well; and, to be sure that it was, he appointed his wives, turn about, to sit by the stone itself all day long, and watch it. They did not like this office, but sooner than lose the spring of water, they agreed to obey.

Things went on very well for some time. But at last, as is always the case when a woman is in the way, there came a sad blow up. One of the giant's wives was a foreigner, and was married to some other man before she fell into his hands. Mild and pale she always was, pretty creature, lamenting the land that she had left, and the lover she had lost. It happened that one day as she sat by the well, there came an old pilgrim by the gate, and he held out his pitcher for a draught of water: her thoughts were far away, never fear. But women are all kind and gentle creatures, and she raised off the cover to fill his vessel. While she was doing this, the pilgrim pulled off his gown and false beard, and who was it but her own, own husband! She sprang off her seat toward him, and then, faint as death, and just as pale, she sank back into the old oaken chair on which she sat. A bird never flew the air faster, than he toward her. He seated himself on the seat, held her gently in his arms, and sprinkled her with water until the color

again came to her cheek, and the life into her heart. All this time the well was uncovered, and the waters rose rose- rose, until they surrounded the castle. Higher and higher did they rise, until at length. down fell the gates, the stream rushed in, and drowned every living thing in the place, and made this very lake we are now sitting by.' And what became of the lady and the pilgrim?'

'Now that is the beautiful moral of the story. They escaped. for the oaken chair supported them, and floated them until they came to land. All the rest perished, because they wilfully consented to live with the giant; but this one lady was kept there against her will.

What happened to them, after all?'

"They lived together long and happily. It was the giant's pride to put all his best jewels on whoever kept watch over the well, that all persons might pay respect to his wealth; and as this lady had them all on her when the castle was swallowed up, she and her husband had money enough to last them all the days of their life.'

Really, you have given, if not a very probable, still a very pleasing account of this lake. But what causes this meadow to be so bare, while the others round it have such fine crops?'

Fair and softly, Sir. Do you see that gray rock on the left there, with the three pines on its height?'

'Yes.'

'Listen then, to a story about it unless, indeed, my conversation tire you.'

After assuring Mr. Cronin, who was evidently fishing for a compliment, that his story would have quite a contrary effect, he resumed:

'Look first,' said he, at the place, or you won't be able to comprehend the story at once.'

The rock rose with a gentle swell in the distance. Its front had a precipitous appearance, and was covered with tangled underwood, like network. At its base, was a sort of rugged entrance, over which the honeysuckle and wild briar had formed a natural arch. Except this, truth compels me to say the rock was very common-place. You might meet with a hundred such any day in the year, and pass them by without notice.

'We call that rock,' said he, 'by a strange name, from a strange circumstance. Upon the top, some hundreds of years ago, there stood a castle belonging to the old kings of Muskerry. Some cousin of theirs and his family lived in it, and were happy as the day is long. I never could find out how it happened, but certainly it did happen, that one night, castle, and people, and all suddenly disappeared. I misdoubt that there were bad spirits at work. However, it is said that the rock opened and swallowed all up, and that the lord and his lady are kept there, spell bound, as it were, in the shape of cats. From this, the rock is called Corrig-na-cat, or the cat-rock. T is a mighty pretty derivation.

There

Surely, whether the castle were swallowed up or no, strange sights may be seen, by the light of the harvest moon, about that place. is a little green spot on the brow of the rock, where there is a fairy circle; and it is as sure as the daylight that there has been heard sweet music from that spot by night, and the good people (the fairies) have been seen dancing on the green turf, dressed in green and gold, and having

beautiful crowns on their heads, and white wands in their hands. Faith, Sir, you may smile, but more unlikely things have been.

Well, Sir, my grandfather, although a little given to the drink, was as honest a man as ever broke bread, or emptied a glass. It was on a summer evening, while he lay in bed, between asleep and awake, that he heard a strange, deep voice speak to him. It said: The words of fate! - heed them! Go at midnight to Corrig-na-cat; take with you a box of candles, and a hundred fathoms of line. Fasten the line to the mouth of the cave, and advance boldly with a pair of candles lighted. The line, is that you may roll it up as you come back, and not lose your way. Keep to the right hand, and you'll find a large room, and two cats in it. There is as much gold in the room inside that, as would buy a kingdom; you may take a bag to carry away as much of it as you desire. But on your peril, do not touch any thing else; your life will not be worth a straw, if you do!

'You may be sure, Sir, that this piece of information astonished my grandfather. But he was a sensible man, and just nudged my grandmother, to know if she were awake. She slept, sound as a top; so he let her sleep on. He was far too knowing to let her into the secret. He thought over all that he had ever heard of Corrig-na-cat; he called to mind how his mother had always said that our family were the real descendants of the lord and lady that were swallowed up in the rock, and he fancied that this was some great oracle that had come down to him, in order that he might break the spell that bound them in the rock, and bring back the good old times once more. God knows, he thought less of the gold he was to take for his own use, than the chance of restoring them to their own natural human forms, and giving them back their fine estates.

They say that a warning is worth nothing, if it is not repeated. The next night my grandfather heard the same words: he then knew that it was no feint, and the night after he went on his mission.

'It was pitch dark, and he took his line, and his candles, and a sack to bring home the gold, and a flask of stuff that had never been touched by the gauger's rod. When he came to the rock, his heart almost failed him; the night was so still that he could hear the beating of his heart-thump, thump, thump-against his breast. The bat flew about, and the owl looked on him with her great white, flaring eyes; but he did not mind. Swallowing all the contents of the flask at once, he felt his spirits wonderfully restored, and in he pushed, to the mouth of the cave. He fastened his line to one of the bushes at hand, said an ave or two, drained the flask, and dashed forward.

The way was as straight as an arrow for about thirty yards, but after that, it took as many turnings and twistings as a problem of Euclid in the sixth book, and branched out into many directions. My grandfather followed on to the right, as he had been told, and soon found himself at the gateway of an old hall. He pushed open the door, and saw that there were doors upon doors, leading off to many a place. He still kept to the right, and in a few minutes found himself in a state chamber; pillars of white marble supported the roof, and at the farthest end, the hall opened into an apartment, through which there beamed a soft and beautiful light, like as if it came from a thousand shaded lamps.