basket, and laid where boat was never seen before, since Cape Clear was an island* While I was thus prating to poor Pat Hayes,

* A valuable correspondent has given me another version of the story of the strong man of Cape Clear.-He informs me that it is true there was a man on the island of remarkable strength, and who may be remembered by persons yet living, but his name was Cadogan. "I heard many stories of him in my boyish days, among which was, his power of lifting enormous weights. One of the best stories I have heard, and I have reason to believe it true, is the following :-A revenue officer with a small party went into the island on information of smuggled goods--Cadogan not liking such intruders, was determined to take measures, but without bloodshed, to prevent what was deemed an invasion of the islanders' privileges; accordingly having with some followers surrounded and disarmed the party, he seized the officer with Herculean gripe, and holding him over the brink of a tremendous precipice, he addressed him in words like the following-' You see now, Mister S. how like a fool you are after acting, in coming to trouble the dacent and quiet people of this little place of an island, wanting as you do to spoil our little trade,—are you not now in my power? might I not drop you as a gull would a herring into the sea there below, and what could you do then? But Mr. Gauger-give me your oath as a Christian, and your honour as a gentleman, that neither you nor your people shall ever set foot on this island again, and I will draw you in to myself, and let you go home to your wife and childer like a happy man, and you will have my blessing going along with you.' You may be sure the officer acceded to the proffered terms; and so he and his men were dismissed with no other injury than what they suffered from their fears."

no,

I was joined by my friend, the Vicar of the island parish, out of which he receives the immense sum of £30. Yes, said he, it was a curious scene the day I was inducted into my Vicarage in this old ruin. The people, when they saw me with my surplice on, and reading English prayers, thought I was come to change their religion-they believed I was here to invade the province of the Priest; old women surrounded the walls chattering Irish, and groaning, the boys howled, the men scowled, and looked gruff and angry, and perhaps something worse would have been done, if some one who could speak Irish, had not explained, that there was no intention of doing them harm, or changing their religion. By the way, the Priest is a Prince paramount here, absolute master of the bodies and souls of these islanders; none dare dispute his word, for heaven and supernatural powers are on his side. Some very few years ago, certain persons that the "Soggarth," or Priest, did not like, had established themselves in the Castle of

Dunanore, which I have just spoken of: I did not hear exactly in what way they offended, perhaps they were smugglers, and did not pay the regulated fees, or dues, but out of Dunanore they must come. Now you see how yonder castle is perched on a rock in the sea, the approach to it is by a narrow causeway, the breadth of a man's path; on either side is the boiling tide dancing and springing about; a single stone thrown from the castle would have sent the Priest to purgatory; but on the sacred man marched, who dare touch him; he bore a charmed life-he walked on surrounded by the halo of reverential respect, and stouter than mortal would he be that dare bar his entrance. "Out of this, ye vermin-out of the castle, pack every mother's son of you: begone, or I will send the old walls tumbling about your ears." The mandate was obeyed, one took up a stool, another a bed-post, the children carried pots, porringers, and trenchers, and when all were gone, like the children of Israel departing out of Egypt; then it was that the Priest, taking

out bell and breviary, pronounced his curse, and down with tremendous crash, and dash, went the half of the old castle into the sea, and there the remainder of it now stands, a memorial and mark of priestly power.

My good reader, do not be in the least incredulous, for all this must be quite true; every one on the Island believing it, except a few poor heretics of the water-guard. But you will ask, is this omnipotent Priest still in power on this island? No, he is not, it would have gladdened mine eyes to have beholden him. Alas! mortal man, even in the midst of his might, is given to faults, and must bend to fate, and our friend of the castle had one failing-and if, in any instance it would be excusable, it was here: in the dark and misty atmosphere that surrounded him, after his chilly walks over the barren heights of his parish, on returning home to his lonely parlour, with no companion but his breviary—none of the charities of domestic life around himno one in the world near him that had a claim to say, live for me; what wonder is it

that he fled to the bottle for refuge from the sense of desolation and one-ness; what wonder that he sought in brandy, from that artificial excitement of spirits, which could lift him up from the prostration of all those hopes, endearments and associations, that make life to others desirable. His end was awful and sudden; he left his island parish either for the purpose of relaxation, or business, and landing at the town of Baltimore, he went to a public house, and called for a quantity of spirits; it was left with him in his apartment. In a few hours, those that came into the room found the liquor drank, and the Priest no more.

It is now time to think of the Waterguard: you know, says my friend, it was not to prate about old bones or castles I came with you; will you come about my business? Yes, certainly; I hope, though feeling an interest and amusement in old legendary stories, and the play of a people's superstition, I do not set the less value on the work, the efficiency, the furtherance of Divine truth :