222 



AN OCTOBER ABROAD. 



over Blackwater," which dates back to the time of 

 Queen Elizabeth. It stands amid noble trees on the 

 banks of the river, and its walls, some of them thirty or 

 forty feet high, are completely overrun with ivy. The 

 Blackwater, a rapid, amber-colored stream, is spanned 

 at this point by a superb granite bridge. • 



And I will say here that anything like a rural town 

 in our sense, a town with trees and grass and large 

 spaces about the houses, gardens, yards, shrubbery, 

 coolness, fragrance, etc., seems unknown in England 

 or Ireland. The towns and villages are all remnants of 

 feudal times, and seem to have been built with an eye to 

 safety and compactness, or else men were more social 

 and loved to get closer together then than now. Perhaps 

 the damp, chilly climate made them draw nearer to- 

 gether. At any rate, the country towns are little cities ; 

 or rather it is as if another London had been cut up 

 in little and big pieces and distributed over the land. 



In the afternoon, to take the kinks out of my legs, 

 and quicken if possible my circulation a little, which 

 since the passage over the channel had felt as if it was 

 thick and green, I walked rapidly to the top of the 

 Knockmeledown Mountains, getting a good view of 

 Irish fields and roads and fences as I went up, and a 

 very wide and extensive view of the country after I 

 had reached the summit, and improving the atmosphere 

 of my physical tenement amazingly. These mountains 

 have no trees or bushes or other growth than a harsh 

 prickly heather, about a foot high, which begins ex- 



