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years ago." The old man spoke thus, while he divested himself of his muffler and great-coat, and having consigned them to the clerk, he let himself out over the verge of the cliff, and descended, using feet and hands with marvellous dexterity, repeating as he disappeared, “ And better than all, Owen, the angels guard us.”

“The angels guard him !” echoed the clerk,

* almost unconscious of what he was saying. After four long hours of awful suspense on his airy watch-tower, the course of his musings was suddenly interrupted by a sudden change in the demeanour of the horse, which sagacious animal began all at once to neigh, and paw the ground, and to start, as if gathering itself for a spring over the precipice. The next thing that attracted him was the priest’s voice, and the priest himself presently came scrambling up and stood before him. He reached the clerk his hand, “Owen, my son, do not the angels guard us?” The clerk seized the proffered hand in both his, and kissed it with passionate reverence; but it was strange that so voluble and so curious a man as Owen was known to be did not utter a word, nor did he ask a single question till they had crossed the One Man's Path and got down into the valley of Teelin. Then his tongue was loosened, and he had many a question to ask, and the priest gratified him with a full account of his adventure down the cliff.

Father Carr, directed by the groans which issued at regular intervals from a recess in the precipice below, reached the spot, and found a man in a dying condition lying there. He was a Spaniard, and, as the priest had studied in Spain, a communication was easily opened between them. The history of the stranger contained a deep lesson. He had been blessed with a good and pious mother, whom he loved dearly, who, when he was a little child, taught him, among many pious prayers, a short petition for the assistance of a priest at his death, and she used to make him promise to say this prayer every night before going to bed. She fell ill and died while he was yet a boy. He grew up into a dissipated young man, but through all his excesses he continued to repeat the short prayer taught him by his mother, whose memory he ever cherished with deep affection. After dissipating his fortune at home, he emigrated to the Spanish settlements in the West Indies. Here he changed his ways. Turning all the resources of his mind to the pursuit of gain, he soon grew rich, and after the lapse of many years, an eager longing for home possessed him. He turned what he could of his property into cash, and set sail for Spain with all his wealth, in the safest ship that frequented the West Indian waters. A strong southerly wind, blowing the whole time of the voyage, bore the vessel to the north far out of her course, so that when she reached this side of the Atlantic she was standing into Donegal Bay. She was caught in the tempest of that evening, and as the early part of the night was dark, the captain did not observe accurately his proximity to the shore. When the moon rose, revealing, by its fitful gleams, the precipitous cliffs of Slieve League, the crew did all they could to keep the vessel off the rocks, but the wind growing stronger every moment, proved too many for them.

When all hope was given over, the Spaniard took a sum of gold coin, and putting it into a leathern girdle used by him in long and dangerous journeys as a purse, fastened it tightly round his waist. He had hardly come up on deck, when the ship, now close to the rocks, was spun round by a whirlwind, soon to be broken and left floating in small splinters among the breakers. The familiar prayer taught him by his long-lost mother came to the lips of the Spaniard, and he repeated it fervently as he sank into the mighty waters. After his immersion he rose to the surface, and being an expert swimmer, he struck boldly for the shore, when the seething waters through which he was cutting his way surl.


denly rushed back with great force, dragging him over pointed rocks. He now felt a sense of blindness and suffocation from the foam, and his head seemed to him to be bending, as if from the repeated buffets of waves, till it was turned completely under, and then he seemed to himself to be sinking, sinking, sinking, head downwards, into awful depths. He lost all consciousness from that moment, till, awaking from a dream in which he saw the sweet face of his mother, and felt the gentle pressure of her hand while she bathed his throbbing temples with a sponge, he found himself stretched face downwards on a ledge of rock barely out of the reach of the waves which at frequent intervals sent a shower of spray on the cliffs above him. He was not long in realising the danger of his position, and, though sadly wounded by the tossing among the sharp rocks, he began to crawl upwards, resting every now and then, till at length he lay down exhausted in the recess in which Father Carr had found him. While he lay there he repeated many a prayer with deep earnestness, but none more fervently than the one he cherished so dearly for his mother's sake, and at each repetition of it he groaned bitterly at the reflection that he made himself unworthy of its being heard. Those were the groans that drew the priest to the spot.

The feelings of the Spaniard may be more easily imagined than described when he found that a priest, speaking his mother's tongue, knelt beside him. His strength was failing fast; the cold chill of death was creeping over his members. He had just time to tell his history to the good priest, to whom he handed over the gold he had upon his person to build a chapel in thanksgiving for this great grace. The priest having shrived him and administered to him all the consolations of his religion, the Spaniard died, and his remains were afterwards laid in a decent resting-place. The chapel was built in due time, and the passer-by may still see the remains of it on the road-side between Kilcar and Carrick ;-it is called the “Chapel of the Spaniard” to this day.


"A visit should by all means be paid to Glen, a district which tourists should not fail to explore, instead of stopping short at Slieve League, as most are content to do." * For the first two miles the road ascends along the Owenwee river, having Slieve League on the right. There is a cross-road at Lough-oona, the road to the left descending into

* Murray.

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