in bardic story it has been called Hog-island, and from hence probably it has retained a propensity for pigs and pig-styes to this day; but divesting my narrative of these Milesian imaginations, in sober seriousness, we saw nothing but the wide stretch of ocean, now looking dreary and darkly towards the south, in accordance with the dim and gloomy destiny that seems to hang over the Spanish Peninsula. We observed the fishing smacks hastening in, and one of our oars-men gave us warning that there was every appearance of a rapid change, and threatening marks of a rising gale of wind: still it was fair and calm where we were, beneath us was the whole island, a congeries of rocks and cliffs; to look at it, it might be said to be incurably barren, and yet to see it studded as it was with human habitations, and teeming with people, you might imagine that they fed on, and digested stones. But like the sea-birds around, they merely nested upon these rocks -they owed to the teeming ocean the entire of their sustenance-indebted to it for the

weed that produced their potatoes amidst the rocks-and drawing from thence the fish that made the potato palatable. In the centre of the island lay a lake, the qualities of which, as we were informed by one of our men, were not more strange than useful; it saves the necessity of soap, it will wash your shirt as white as a gull's breast, without a lather of suds; steep a train oil barrel in it for twenty-four hours, and it will come out so sweet that it smells like a bean-blossom, and you may churn butter in it. O! Gentlemen, says he, it would amuse you to the heart to see the women tucking flannel and frize in it of a summer's evening; there is no tuck-mill on the island, and yet, thanks to the lake, and the legs of the honest women, they have the finest frize in Munster-they make it as lasting as leather; it would make any one as merry as a miller to see the "Calleens" on a summer's evening, as noisy as crows in Lord Bantry's rookery, sitting opposite one another in the soft sweet water, kicking a piece of cloth from one to another, until it

R

came out as tight as a board. But on this subject we checked our communicative friend, not having any ambition to know more of these succedanea for the machinery of a tuck mill.

I inquired "What island is that to the east? it looks as if it had some fine land on it; and of all the picturesque castles I have observed on these shores, I think that yonder is the most striking; and then to north of the castle I saw more ruins. Altogether, it is an interesting island. I wish we had time to row there."-"Not, certainly, to day," said my friend, "it is well even if we can get home; the clouds are coming down from the mountains. Look at Gabriel what a night cap he is putting on; see the white horses are beginning to ride on the wave. It will be a hard pull on the boys to bring us home. Pat Hayes, run down to the Cove and make all ready to have us afloat and out to sea immediately." So off Pat ran; and as we followed him, descending the hill, I received the information I wanted concerning Inni

sherkin. This island formed the wealth and strength of Sir Fineen O'Driscol; that was his castle of Dunalong, and yonder is the Franciscan abbey which Florence O'Driscol, when in wealth and power, built for the good of his soul. Here thirty friars said masses for the souls' safety of these sons of the sea, who but two often left their Christianity behind them when they gave their sails to the wind, as their forefathers, when going to be christened, kept their right arm unbaptized, that it might be free to plunge in deeds of blood;-thus the name of O'Driscol was feared from the Bristol Channel to the Shannon's mouth and so Florence O'Driscol, the wrecker and the smuggler, the rover and the ravisher, in order to settle accounts with his Maker, built the monastery; and thus the castle and the friary, kept a regular and fair account with each other. -The O'Driscols supported the men of God, and the friars saved the souls of the sons of the sea. But of all the O'Driscols none maintained Dunalong, or the Ship Castle, in

:

such bravery as Sir Fineen-none perpetrated his preys by land, or his piracy by sea, with such address and success. He and his natural son, the dark Gilly Duff, or Black Gilbert, lived in right Milesian glory-what was gained by barbarian force was spent in profuse hospitality. The Ship Castle was the seat of their strength and the storehouse of their plunder there the pedlars came to purchase the soft goods and female drapery that were robbed or smuggled from foreign vessels here the inland gentry came to procure the pipes of wine and Cogniac brandy that were necessary to support the hospitality of their inland fortresses; and thus Sir Fineen, under the walls of Dunalong kept a sort of fair-the produce of his adventures on the ocean was exchanged for the cattle and corn of the rich plains of Tipperary and Limerick and thus, in the curious combinations of his fortunes and character, he possessed the attributes of a merchant, a mariner, a pirate, and a Milesian chieftain. All was fortunate and fair with Sir Fineen and