firm land, and up they go in the light of the moonbeams to Slieve Goul, in a wild, riotous, rushing rout. Bad luck to the poor fisher that is out on the water that night: it's little chance he has for one week after that. If the whole bay was swarming with herrings, he knows he has no business to go looking after them."

"One night in this way, Florence O'Donohoe was a fishing, and its not many years ago -October never gave a brighter or more promising hour for a take of fish ;-the herrings cast up a shining from the deep, as if they desired to outdazzle the moonbeams. All was still and quiet, except here and there you could hear betimes the plunging of a porpoise. It was Florence's first night to be out, and he had just taken a fine cod, and as it was the first-fruits of his fishing, with all due solemnity, he spit into its mouth for luck— taking also care to make a sign of the cross on the hook, for grace, before he cast it out again. Thus all was well and promising-when of a sudden he heard the shrill tally

ho,' that sounded as clear as if it came through a silver pipe; and looking up he saw a troop of the little green men, mounted on cattle not bigger than cats, waving their hunting caps over their heads, and dashing from the point across the water, cantering away over the sea as if it had been a Curragh or a hill side. Florence drew in all his hookshe pulled up all his nets, and putting back to land, he went home sorrowful enough to his eabin. And what was worse than all, he dare not give his soul the satisfaction of casting one hearty curse after the green king of the good people, as he rode in his riot up the side of Slieve Goul. Therefore, let no one venture, while the fishermen are out in Glengariff bay, to cry tallyho'-for the moment that dangerous word is uttered, every man puts about, and gives up fishing."

As we passed a cove into which there was an entrance from the sea by a narrow strait, Mr. W. said, "You may talk of your sports, hunting, and shooting, and of your coming home in the evening with your bag full of

grouse or partridge; but commend me to the sporting I had here one day, when we had game worthy of Gargantua, and a day's sport that the king of Brobdignag would not have despised. Just after breakfast one morning not many years ago, one of my people came running up to me in breathless haste, 'O, Sir, come down to us; bring all your guns, powder and ball; a whole herd of whales are in the bay, and one of them is already aground.' Accordingly I went down with all my guns and ammunition; and certainly found a whale of the bottle-nose species aground, or rather entrapped in the narrow pass at the mouth of this cove. We fired until we despatched it, and then with ropes and boat-hooks drew him to shore. He was succeeded by another, (for they all seemed to follow the leader,) which was despatched in the same way; and thus thirty-three of them were secured many a pound the poor fellows of the neighbourhood made by the oil, &c. which was obtained by this day's shooting."

C. O.

and

SKETCHES

IN THE SOUTH OF IRELAND.

LETTER V.

TO THE REV. THOMAS P. M-E.

DEAR SIR,

On the following day my kind entertainers took an excursion towards the fall of Adrigoll, or Hungry Mountain. We passed between the sea-shore and the Sugar-loaf mountain, along a new road made to Bearhaven, on the M‘Adamized plan; and nothing could be finer than the road, or grander than the outline of the mountain scenery-to the left, the broad expanse of Bantry Bayto the right, the mountains. We had no longer in view the woods of Glengariff; no improvement, no cultivation. At length we

came to where the continuous line of hills was interrupted, and room left for an open valley through which a stream descended and joined the sea: a pretty bridge, a sort of a village, a church, and close to the sea shore, a comfortable parsonage house; and straight before us Hungry Mountain, with the bed of the waterfall, like a dark deep chasm, indented down its side. But the weather had already set in with peculiar dryness, and there was not a rill of water where in winter is a fearful cataract.

"Did you ever see a dumb church ?" said one of my companions. "And pray what is a dumb church?" "Why it is a church lately built and consecrated; but which has now no service in it, and is let to go to neglect and ruin." "And how long is this church built-for it, at this distance, from its position, colour, and elevation, appears to be quite a modern structure?" "It is not more than ten or twelve years erected-the present Primate consecrated it." "Come, let us take a walk to see this first specimen that