622 Scenes in the Irish Highlands Cnnnemara. 



side, had undergone a change, and a romantic valley was disclosed, where a Mr.St. 

 George has a beautiful seat called Delphi. A few miles more brought us to our 

 destination ; and the scenery of the Killerys did not more surpass our expectations 

 than Shawn More's abode fell short of them. The day was far declined, and the 

 wildness and loneliness of the situation, on the edge of the inlet, encircled with 

 oteep naked hills, appeared certainly to the best advantage; but the renowned pro- 

 prietor was absent at a distant fair, and his lady did not hazard the rebuke of 

 Martha by her pains to entertain us. The herrings and potatoes, to be sure, were 

 Tinexceptionable, but the mutton chops were from the least esculent parts of the 

 mountain sheep, and when we asked for potheen she gave us parliament. To 

 crown all, the table was spread critically under a loft where the fowls had already 

 composed themselves to rest, and the descent through the rafters of a great turkey- 

 cock, whose slumbers were scared by the unusual din beneath, proved nearly fatal 

 to an excellent map of Galway. This was the "capers of Leenane" with a 

 vengeance. Had we stopped there to sleep, we should have witnessed the capers 

 of another branch of animated nature ; for, on inspecting the beds, they were more 

 like entomological museums than places of repose. A single glance of them 

 determined us, late as it then was, to make for Corrib Lodge, an inn seven 

 miles distant. 



We traversed the barony of Ross, better known by the name of the Joyce- 

 country, which it takes from the circumstance of its having been anciently pos- 

 sessed by the family or sept of the Joyces, one of the twelve tribes of Galway, 

 enumerated in the familiar rhyme 



Athy, Blake, Bodkin, Browne, Deane, D'Arcy, Lynch, 



Joyce, Kinvan, Maitin, Morris, Skerret, French. 



The Joyces were formerly distinguished as the Anaks of the kingdom of Connaugkt; 

 and there are still to be met with in the district which retains their name, and 

 is indeed to a great degree peopled by their descendants, frequent instances of 

 extraordinary stature. John Joyce, of Leenane, is said to be seven feet high. 

 The race is said to have sprung from the marriage of a Welch chieftain with 

 Onorah O'Brien, a princess of Thomond ; and their settlement in these high-lands 

 is traced back as far as the reign of Edward the First. The most illustrious 

 name in their annals is that of Margaret-na-Drehide, or Margaret " of the bridges," 

 so called from her memorable exertions to advance that species of public work, in a 

 country where the number of impetuous streams that rush from the mountains, 

 renders it one of peculiar utility and importance. The legend says that heaven 

 signified its approbation of her humane labours in a signal manner. One day, as 

 she sat inspecting her workmen, an eagle from the neighbouring cliffs hovered a 

 while over her head ; then, stooping suddenly, dropped into her bosom a gold 

 ring set with a precious gem, the nature of which no lapidary could ever discover. 

 This brilliant, which outshone the diamond, is said to have been long preserved in 

 her house; and some say was seen so late as the year 1661. Her bridges, it is 

 probable, did not endure so long ; at least it is certain that Mr. Nimmo, when he 

 commenced his operations in this country, found few traces of Margaret-na- 

 Drehide. 



Corrib Lodge is situated at the entrance of the Beal-na-brack river into Loch 

 Corrib; and was built by the engineer just alluded to, for a residence, while he 

 was engaged in this part of the country. A handsome stone bridge and a new line 

 of road, both of his construction, face the door, and give the place an unusual air 

 of civilization. The lodge is at present an inn, and affords excellent, though not 

 extensive, accommodation. The day after our arrival we hired a boat; and two 

 tall, half-naked Joyces, as guiltless of Saxon as we of Gaelic, rowed us seven or 

 eight miles down the lake. The scenery for about that space is extremely pictu- 

 resque. A little rocky islet, covered almost entirely with the ivy-mantled ruins of an 

 ancient fortress, called Anaguirke Castle, has a romantic effect. This structure is 

 of quadrangular form, and its massive walls, the masonry of a rude and remote 

 age, are still sufficiently perfect to make it a remarkably striking object at more than 

 a mile's distance. The low dark holes that served its warlike occupants for bed- 

 rooms are in complete preservation ; but who those occupants were no legend 



