MOUNTAIN SCENE.

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that flowed through the rich valley was flooded, I carried over a stranger who was passing on à horse which I happened to be riding by at the time. But no sooner had he reached the opposite bank than a person came running up in breathless haste, shouting that the stranger was a Protestant, and swearing that he would sooner see him floating a corpse down the river, than give him the least assistance! Such sentiments, I am happy to say, are for the most part peculiar to the "dark places" of our land; and even in the worst of these places are to be found individuals greatly superior to the fanatical multitude around them-men enlightened by extensive reading, and willing to concede to others the liberty of conscience which they claim for themselves.

Early on a Sunday morning, my young friend proposed a visit to a neighbouring chapel about five miles distant, to hear the Priest, who was regarded as a powerful preacher. The morning was fine, and we travelled over hills from which we had a commanding view of the surrounding country. The rich vales below were covered with cattle, and occasionally a flock of sheep was seen reposing on the luxuriant grass. The smoke was beginning to ascend from the low houses which seemed to grow up out of the large ditches,

and were for the most part unsheltered by trees. The inmates were opening the doors as we passed, aroused by the grunting of huge fat pigs, that in most cases enjoyed their otium cum dignitate in a comfortable corner of the kitchen; so that the sounds and other influences that proceeded from them were not "by distance made more sweet.” Painfully ascending an eminence on which the sun was shining in his strength, I called at a cabin door, and asked for a drink of water. The good housewife had no water, but she offered to run up the hill and milk the goat! This hospitality, so characteristically Irish in its simplicity and its generosity, was of course declined. Of these goats we encountered numerous droves feeding on the heath. A number of grouse, reposing on their mossy nests, fluttered up from their coverts under our feet; and various hares, alarmed at our approach, scampered away among the grey rocks, to find another resting-place, where they might digest the night's feeding on the neighbouring fields of corn. Our way was sometimes interrupted by a deep ravine, where the turbid waters of the winter torrent, impetuous and foaming, like a thwarted tyrant, burst a passage to the plain, among huge rocks, that sometimes hung threateningly over the channel beneath. In some places, the smoke of the

THE RUSHY-MAN.

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private still was visible, as it gracefully curled over a projecting bank by the side of a ripling stream. As you approached one of these, you might observe a scout advancing to reconnoitre -a surly-looking personage, with a large frieze coat, a slouched hat, and an eight-days' beard pendant from his chin. Woe to the stranger who would be found intruding on such a scene without a passport!

There was one individual who reigned with absolute sway over the peasantry of these secluded glens and valleys. He was called the Rushy-man, from the fact of his sleeping on bare rushes, and wearing them under his clothes next his skin. No one knew his name, and his history was wrapt up in impenetrable mystery. Various were the conjectures, and wonderful the stories that were propagated concerning him. That which gained most credit was, that he had been a Priest who distinguished himself in the Wexford Rebellion, and being, from the sanctity of his character, impervious to the bullets of the heretics, had found it necessary ever since to conceal himself. Others thought him a man of rank and property, outlawed by government, who sought in this disguise to revisit the green valleys of his fatherland. He was believed to surpass the Priests in learning; and it was said,

I think truly, that, in addition to the learned languages, he could speak the French and Italian. The people almost idolized him. He was a welcome guest at the tables of the wealthiest farmers, and he was not too proud to partake of the humble fare of the poorest cottager. He sometimes employed himself in teaching the children, as he went on his visits from house to house. He seemed to be well acquainted with all parts of the country. Sometimes he would suddenly disappear; but where he went, or how he travelled, no one could tell. Again, he would present himself at the breakfast table some morning, as if he dropped from the clouds. All were musing as to who or what he could be, but no man dared to question him on the subject. About himself he maintained the most profound silence, and he sternly rebuked all prying curiosity.

He was certainly a most extraordinary man. I had the pleasure of conversing with him one Sunday morning in the chapel yard, and again at the Pattern of Tn, where he chatted with me in the most agreeable and friendly manner. In his demeanour he possessed

"All the ease,

That speaks security to please."

Equally removed from constraint and negligence, his manners were as graceful as if he had moved

THE RUSHY-MAN.

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all his life among the first ranks of society. His pronunciation was classically correct, and there was an air of dignity and independence about him that strangely contrasted with his apparently humble situation. His dress was peculiar, but he kept his person perfectly neat and clean. The magistrates summoned him on one occasion when the country was in a disturbed state, and insisted that as a stranger and a suspected character he should disclose his name. But he treated them haughtily, and defied their power. They were unable to remove the veil of mystery, and were ultimately obliged to dismiss him. And I am sorry that I am unable to gratify your curiosity, for I am still totally in the dark as to his history. But as I suppose you passing with me through the district which was the favourite retreat of so singular a character, I thought the account which I have given would be interesting. He was a small man, about fifty years of age, with a pale, expressive countenance, and eyes peculiarly lively and penetrating.

It is said, that a gentleman of large property, and ancient family, in W. was detained in France for many years during the war, where he was compelled to labour for his bread as a blacksmith. But

"He comes at last in sudden lonelinesss."