CHAPTER XIX

OUR LAST DAY IN IRELAND SEEING TIPPERARY

Wespent the rest of that day around Cork. Going to the steamship office we found our liner would call at Queenstown on the second day. We had one more day for sightseeing.

“Mike,” said I, “let us start early tomorrow morning, and spend our last day seeing Tipperary.”

“Agreed,” said he.

He carefully overhauled the motor, and we had all in readiness for a second flight from Cork the next morning.

We flew direct toward County Tipperary. Our first place of interest was Cashel, the former Capital of Munster.

As we entered Tipperary and skimmed over its green acres, I entertained Mike by quoting to him a description of a Tipperary man:

“Strong is his form, his heart is warm,His spirit light as any fairy:His wrath as fearful as the stormsThat sweep the hills of Tipperary.Lead him to fight for Fatherland,His is no courage cold or wary;The troops live not on earth could standThe headlong charge of Tipperary.But meet him in his cabin rude,Or walking with his dark-haired Mary,You’d swear they knew no other mood,But mirth and love in Tipperary.”

“Strong is his form, his heart is warm,His spirit light as any fairy:His wrath as fearful as the stormsThat sweep the hills of Tipperary.

“Strong is his form, his heart is warm,

His spirit light as any fairy:

His wrath as fearful as the storms

That sweep the hills of Tipperary.

Lead him to fight for Fatherland,His is no courage cold or wary;The troops live not on earth could standThe headlong charge of Tipperary.

Lead him to fight for Fatherland,

His is no courage cold or wary;

The troops live not on earth could stand

The headlong charge of Tipperary.

But meet him in his cabin rude,Or walking with his dark-haired Mary,You’d swear they knew no other mood,But mirth and love in Tipperary.”

But meet him in his cabin rude,

Or walking with his dark-haired Mary,

You’d swear they knew no other mood,

But mirth and love in Tipperary.”

When I had finished, Mike returned me the favor by singing, with the motor as an accompaniment, a famous Tipperary song. The words of it are:

“Oh, Paddy, dear, and did you hear the news that’s going round?The shamrock is by law forbid to grow on Irish ground;No more St. Patrick’s Day we’ll keep, his color can’t be seen,For there’s a bloody law agin the wearin’ o’ the green.I met with Napper Tandy, and he tuk me by the hand,And he said, ‘And how’s ould Ireland and how does she stand?’She’s the most distressful country that ever yet was seen,For they’re hangin’ men and women for the wearin’ o’ the green.”

“Oh, Paddy, dear, and did you hear the news that’s going round?

The shamrock is by law forbid to grow on Irish ground;

No more St. Patrick’s Day we’ll keep, his color can’t be seen,

For there’s a bloody law agin the wearin’ o’ the green.

I met with Napper Tandy, and he tuk me by the hand,

And he said, ‘And how’s ould Ireland and how does she stand?’

She’s the most distressful country that ever yet was seen,

For they’re hangin’ men and women for the wearin’ o’ the green.”

When he had finished I said:

“Mike, an Irishman could not sing that any better than you.”

“An Irishwoman could, though,” said Mike, and then he continued, “You ought to have heard Edith sing that very song as we were flying over Dublin. I thought I was in heaven, and was hearing the angels sing.”

“When you landed after that trip you both looked as though you had been in the seventh heaven,” I answered.

Just then we sighted the rock of Cashel, and our thoughts were turned into other channels. Cashel, like Tara, is only a memory. Formerly it was a place of the greatest importance all over the south of Ireland. Now it is an unimportant village. The famous rock of Cashel still stands, crowned with the ruins of the old Cathedral, King Cormac’s Chapel, and a Round Tower. This celebrated rock is a mass of limestone, rising steeply out ofthe plain to the height of 300 feet. Here formerly the Kings of Munster were crowned, and here, in 1172, HenryII.was declared King of Ireland. St. Patrick preached at Cashel when it was a Royal Court.

We circled the Rock twice to the utter amazement of the inhabitants of the village. I doubt if we made more stir anywhere than in Cashel.

Passing on towards Thurles, we saw one of the finest monastic ruins in Ireland, Holy Cross Abbey. The ruins are of great antiquity, but are well preserved, and they are quite extensive. The Cruciform church is still extant enough to show lines of great beauty. This was a former Sanctuary of the O’Briens of Limerick.

From Thurles we went directly west to Limerick.

Limerick is one of Ireland’s oldest cities, and it looks it. It is built on the Shannon river, and Limerick Castle still frowns over that noble stream. This old castle is well preserved.

Limerick, like so many of the towns around the coast of Ireland, was founded by the Danes. It has been the scene of some stirring Irish history. Two famous sieges were endured by this city in the 17th century.

In 1651, the English besieged and captured Limerick under General Ireton. On capturing the city, Ireton hung Bishop O’Brien, an outrage deeply resented by the Irish people.

In 1690 the forces of WilliamII.invested Limerick, after the victory at the Boyne, and the garrison wascompelled to capitulate. The treaty of capitulation was signed on a large stone, since called the “Treaty Stone.”

This Treaty afterwards was shamefully violated by the English Government, and to this day Limerick is known in Ireland as “The City of the Violated Treaty.” As we flew over the city I saw this famous stone, on a pedestal, near Thomond Bridge. I also saw the ancient Cathedral which adorns the city. The present population of Limerick is only 40,000 as the city has lost heavily in recent years by emigration to America. The chief business at present is butter-making, but lace and linen are also produced. There are fine docks and a good export business, as the Shannon is easily navigable at Limerick.

There was one other spot in Ireland we wished to see. We could not finish up our aeroplane trip without flying over Glengariff, which has been called the loveliest spot in all Europe. We made a rapid return flight from Limerick to County Cork. We sped past the Kerry Mountains, beyond which lay Killarney, but we did not attempt to cross them. It was still early in the forenoon when we reached Bantry Bay.

Glengariff means “Rugged Glen” and the scenery is rugged enough in places but it is undoubtedly one of the finest scenes in the world. A mountain stream runs through the lovely valley, which is crossed by many picturesque bridges, before it empties itself into the waters of Bantry Bay. Thackery said if Glengariff were in England, it would be one of the world’s wonders.The climate is remarkably mild all the year and the wild flowers grow in profusion. We passed directly over the little village of Glengariff, and saw Cromwell’s Bridge. This is a bridge said to have been damaged, as so much else was during Cromwell’s visit in the neighborhood.

Our minds, our hearts, our souls were full of the beautiful scenes of the Emerald Isle, when we turned towards Cork for our final flight.

Before we reached the more level land, beyond the hills of Bantry Bay, we had one of our worst experiences with the aeroplane. While crossing a very broken, and hilly stretch of country, covered with stone fences, small cabins, and mountain garden patches, without any warning, the motor again stopped suddenly.

“BEGORRA, IT’S A FOINE BURD.”

I cried out to Mike to land at once. He was compelled to alight, for, when the motor is dead, an aeroplane is like a bird with two broken wings. With the rocky ground, stone fences, and little garden-patches, it was the most difficult descent Mike had to make. He saved the aeroplane from a smash-up only by lighting squarely on the roof of one of the little thatched cabins. As we landed on it, a man, his wife and several children rushed out and gazed at us in silent wonder. We climbed down as best we could, and explained our plight. While the man went away to get some of his neighbors to assist us in getting the aeroplane down on the ground, I looked the cabin over. It was not a beautiful sight when seen close at hand. A vile-smelling manure pilewas heaped in front of the door, and the rude stone walls were most unsightly. The thatch looked as ancient as some of the old ruins we had lately seen. The cabin had only one room. Chickens ran in and out along with the children, and as I entered inside, I saw “the pig in the parlor,” for the one room was the kitchen, dining room, parlor and bed-room combined. Part of the cooking was done outside during fair weather, and a pot of potatoes were boiling over a peat fire beside the cottage. There was a baby in the mother’s arms, and I counted six other children around her. Pallets of straw showed where the nightly rest was obtained. The floor was nothing but hard mother earth. A table, two rough chairs, and a stool, with a rough cupboard completed the furnishings. A few pots lay near the peat fire under the hole, which was meant for a chimney. There was no window. The one door furnished all the light and air.

I found out afterwards that such cabins were occupied only by a comparatively few, even of the poor in Ireland. The Government is at present working among these poor peasants, and in a few years it is expected such hovels will be banished forever from the island. This was a “bog-trotter” cabin, such as is only found in the hilly and desolate regions, where birds, to say nothing of men, find it hard to get a living.

The woman was cordial and self-possessed, and did not seem to mind the squalid surroundings. She offered us some of the cooked potatoes, and as we ate them outsidethe cabin, taking them in our hands, they tasted as good as though they had been cooked in a palace.

A few neighbors soon gathered and helped us get the aeroplane down from the low roof.

While Mike was getting ready to start again, I talked with the owner of the cabin. He seemed cheerful and pointed out to me his potato patch, his “food and drink.”

He told me about the mountains that could be seen from his cabin, and named several of the more important hills. I noticed that a number of the names had the “devil” in them. One peak he called the “devil’s Needle.” Another hill, with a hollow place in its side was the “devil’s Bit.” I thought I would see if there was any Irish in him, and I said:

“His Satanic Majesty seems to own a great deal of property among these hills, judging by their names.”

“Indade he does, sor,” said this son of Erin, “but he is like most of our landlords, he makes his headquarters in London, sor.”

I saw it was no difference where you find him, in palace, mansion, villa, cottage, cabin or even hovel, an Irishman is always the same. Everywhere you will find him genial, witty, good-natured. It must be the effect of the Irish atmosphere.

When Mike had the motor going again we soon made our ascent aloft, leaving our Irish cabiners watching us in awe.

We reached Cork again shortly after noon. Aftera brief rest, we spent the rest of the day in taking the airship to pieces, and re-packing it.

Next morning we were ready for our ocean voyage and took the early train from Cork to Queenstown. Five days later we reached New York. We had been absent considerably less than a month.

Mike has since returned to Ireland. He did not take the aeroplane, but he took along a big trunk. When he returns, as he will in a few weeks, the Connor house in New York State, will have a beautiful young Irish girl as its queen, and my good friend, Mr. O’Neill will come out to America next year to see his daughter, Mrs. Michael Connor. Such was the strange ending of our aeroplane trip. As I think of it, I often say to myself: “It was the result of the Irish atmosphere.”

Transcriber’s NotesPage 28—changed fraid toafraidPage 31—changed Carntual toCarrauntoohilPage 47—changed prefect toperfectPage 53—changed County Fermanaugh toCounty FermanaghPage 60—changed AREOPLANE toAEROPLANEPage 81—changed Juse toJustPage 124—changed desmense todesmesnePage 133—changed seeem toseem

Page 28—changed fraid toafraid

Page 31—changed Carntual toCarrauntoohil

Page 47—changed prefect toperfect

Page 53—changed County Fermanaugh toCounty Fermanagh

Page 60—changed AREOPLANE toAEROPLANE

Page 81—changed Juse toJust

Page 124—changed desmense todesmesne

Page 133—changed seeem toseem

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