rable, is made much more so by contrast. I had for miles travelled over a dull and dreary way-bare, desolate, unsatisfactory-rocky elevations, or gloomy moors, crowded with miserable huts, a population evidently and fearfully encreasing, amidst difficulties and privations altogether insufficient to check its monstrous progress; and I had read Malthus's convincing but gloomy book; and, war, pestilence, and famine, "terribiles visu forma," rose up in necessary association, as summoned to feast on and make prey in future, of this teeming population. It therefore was a pleasant relief coming down from this district to rest on the sweet green shores of Bantry Bay, to feast the eye on the wooded hills, with all their herds and deer, of Lord Bantry's park, hanging as it does in umbrageous verdure over this noble sheet of water; and to add to the full keeping of the fine landscape, a large West Indiaman rode in all the quiet repose of the secure and land-locked anchorage.

But as travellers have other senses besides

sight to gratify, I must say, in justice to an appetite very honestly earned, that its cravings were for sundry days very amply and agreeably gratified at the hospitable glebehouse of the vicar of the parish. But, as these sketches may reach our Vicar, I shall not requite his good offices to me by wounding the modest simplicity of his character; and yet he must allow me to express the wish that every parish in Ireland had such a Vicar, and such a Vicar's wife. Nay, more, to breathe the hope that the Bishop who appointed this useful man to his important station, may find his pillow smoothed at his departing hour by the recollection of having promoted many such working ministers as he is.

Of the town of Bantry I can say little. A sea-port without trade, a harbour without shipping, and a coast with a failing fishery, must leave this place the abode of poverty and misery. Thirty years ago, Bantry Bay was the scene of bustle, alarm, and terror. One of the largest fleets, and conveying one

the finest appointed armies that ever departed from the shores of France, cast anchor in this bay. Humanly speaking, had this army landed, nothing could oppose them; the city of Cork, in three days, would have been at their mercy; there was no military organization in Ireland prepared to face the invaders or counteract disaffection, which, though it had not completely matured its plans, was deeply disseminated and ramified amongst Romanists and Jacobins. Had Hoche landed and possessed himself of Cork, there was every likelihood of Ireland being for a time separated from England. But the providence of God directed it otherwise. On Christmas-eve, 1796, a hurricane came on, with a fury that those who witnessed it never can forget. The French Fleet was driven out to sea, and Ireland, by the hand of an all-disposing Providence, saved.

Immense sums of money, since that time, have been expended in fortifying this harbour some say to very little purpose. One purpose I know has been gained-the Mar

tello Towers have added very much to the picturesque beauty of the bay, and that suf ficeth me. The town of Bantry remains thus poor still, in spite of the money lavished in its vicinity. Even the proximity of a Nobleman, who has the rare merit of staying at home, is insufficient to counteract the evils of a population, encreasing beyond the means of subsistence. Leaving the town of Bantry beset and buried amongst hills that seemed to cover in shame its cabins, I proceeded towards the north west, and about a mile from the town, adjoining a pretty oak plantation, a large rock jutted out into the road, on the right hand: a poor man as we passed it made a low bow. I asked a fellow traveller what was the meaning of the man bowing to the rock. "O," says he " that is the rock of the Priest's leap, Don't you observe in it the impression of the Priest's hands, feet, and knees?" "Why I do observe some holes in the stone certainly, like the impression which a man's knees and hands might make on soft clay." "Right," says he, "seeing is

believing that is the very spot where the Holy Priest landed, when he took his leap from yonder mountain just before you to the north. Yonder mountain is not only memorable for this leap that the Priest took from its topmost ridge when he landed here, but it is also well known as the best practicable pass between this and Kerry. Was it not a brave spring, did you ever take a great running leap? If so, you must have observed, that the wider the jump, the deeper was the mark your heels made. Just so you may observe, that even this good rock could not resist the pound of the Holy Priest's hands and knees, when hẹ descended from his perilous spring." "Well, now, can it be possible that the people believe in this bouncer of a story?" "I assure you many of them do!!” "But who was the Priest?-his story, my good Sir, if you please. "Why that is not so exactly ascertained, either as to time or individual. Some assure you it was Father Domnick Collins, who had been out raising the country for the defence and suc