in gold," but they cost, when in best condition, not more than ten dollars each. Witnessing their patience, the great services they render, and the small amount of recompense they have while living, we incline to the opinion that, as a result of the working of the laws of cause and effect, there may be expected for them good conditions in their Hereafter. They are angels in disguise, and we wish they were in use in America as commonly as they are here.
Other objects that attracted attention were the public wells built in especial parts of the town. They are enclosed springs of water, or it may be reservoirs supplied by pipes; the places are from six to ten feet square, and only a few feet deep, a descent to which is made by stone steps into the small, stone-covered rooms. The people using them for the most part carry the water to their houses in earthen jars holding two or three gallons each. The water is carried by girls and women, seldom by boys and men; at least we could see none engaged in the service. As may be imagined, considering the filthy nature of some of the people who thus obtain the water, it is necessary to have a placard declaring the enforcement of law on any one who dips a dirty or questionable article into one of the wells, or interferes with the purity of the water.
Signs render a large service in the place, and some of them make queer statements—at least so they appear to Americans. For instance, one reads:
Here Margaret Ahearn is Licensed to sell Tobacco.
The street letter-boxes had this inscription:
Cleared at 8 a.m. and 6 p.m., and on Sundays at 5 p.m.
At 2 p. m. this same day with some reluctance we left what was to us a place of interest, and took the nice little black-painted steamer Erin, for a sail from this Lower Harbor of Cork, as it formerly was called, to the city itself.
The journey, covering a distance of eleven miles, may be made by rail or steamer. The wise, pleasure-seeking tourist goes by river. On board the little steamer, having paid a shilling (twenty-four cents) for the passage, valises at our side—and that is all of our baggage, or as we ought now, being in foreign lands, to term it, luggage—we take our last admiring look at this queen of harbors, and with inexpressible reluctance bid adieu to its beautiful scenery, submitting to our fate in anticipation of another visit, as the steamer that takes us to America will be here for a day to receive the mails. We steam to the left end of the basin, and, rounding to the right, pass into the lovely River Lee—an extremely picturesque stream averaging here perhaps a quarter of a mile in width.
The weather is cool, but pleasant for the season. Vegetation in certain respects is three or four weeks in advance of that about Boston. This applies to grass, lilacs and shrubs of the kind, and spring flowers; but garden vegetables, from planted seeds, are not at all in advance. In fact, up to this time, April 22, little planting has been done. The atmosphere of the southern parts of Ireland and of England being very damp, and the entire winter mild, certain kinds of vegetation advance; but cultivated work has no especial advantage over New England, where the first fruits of the gardener's labor are gathered as early as in those islands.
But to return from our digression, we proceed on our short voyage to Cork, and are now on our passage up the River Lee. The scenery on the right bank, on the Queenstown side, is somewhat hilly and of pleasing aspect, though not especially striking or unusual; but that of the opposite shore is elegant and picturesque in the extreme. About a mile from the mouth of the river is the beautiful village of Monkstown, a semi-watering-place, having tourists' hotels and a castle. Monkstown Castle is in ruins, having been built in the year 1636. It is related that Anastatia Goold, a woman of masculine qualities, during the absence of her husband in Spain, conceived the idea of building this as a family mansion, and to pay for it, hit upon the scheme of supplying her workmen with their family stores. She purchased them at wholesale, and retailed them at a profit which paid the entire cost of the castle, with the exception of a single groat (eight cents of our money).
The river above this widens into a small lake, and is called Loch Mahon. Three and a half miles farther up we arrive at the smart little village of Glenbrook; and one and a half miles farther, we come to another pretty town, called Passage.
Soon appears Blackrock, a small promontory, on which is a structure suggesting an ancient castle, built on a tongue of land extending into the clear water of the river. The mansion, however, is old only in style and outline, for it is of modern construction. Blackrock is supposed to be the place from which William Penn, the founder of Pennsylvania, set sail, a. d. 1682, landing after a passage of six weeks.
We were for the hour sumptuously entertained. Small castles, coves, headlands, near and distant scenery, and a luxurious vegetation lent a fascination and charm, which was but the beginning of a series of similar entertainments, not to end till after the first of September.
CORK.
Arrived at the castle, not far in the distance is seen, through the opening of the hills making the river banks, the shipping of the city of Cork, which is practically the capital of South Ireland. We find it a large commercial metropolis, built closely on both sides of the River Lee. The latter is parted at the city, and thus the left side of Cork stands mainly on an island, connected with the other side by nine stone or iron bridges. It has in all a population of 97,887, and is the third city of Ireland in importance and commerce, being excelled only by Dublin and Belfast.
On one side of the river as we pass into the city, at our left hand, are shipyards, repair and dry docks, and a vast amount of work of the kind is done. It may be added, there is presented to view in the harbor a forest of masts, and here may be seen the shipping of all nations. Near these and just above them, up along farther in the city and bordering the river, are fine Boulevards—narrow parks or promenades well graded, called the Mardyke, and set out with shade-trees. The opposite side of the river, at the entrance of the harbor proper, is occupied by elegant lawns, with shrubbery and shade-trees in front of fine mansions and villas; and again, along the river above these, begins the business part of the city.
A good quay extends half a mile on both sides of the river. These have walls of cut, dark limestone, crowned by a substantial railing as a protecting balustrade. The larger part of the place, so far as its business portion is concerned, is built on level ground, and here the streets are wide, well paved and clean, and with the buildings, all of which are of brick or stone, a majority of the latter being painted in light colors, present a pleasing and finished appearance. All things seen are anything but what is imagined by a stranger when he hears one speak of Irish Cork.
Here and there, as at Queenstown, may be seen some of the old Irish male stock, with corduroys and long stockings, velvet coats, peculiar felt hats, heavy shoes—strangers to Day and Martin's specialty; but these are exceptions, about as much so as they are in the Irish sections of New York or Boston. Generally speaking, the dress of the people, male and female, of Irish cities is not peculiar, and aside from these exceptional instances they do not vary from those of London or Boston.
As regards a good civilization—everywhere in the business parts of the city, manifested by large and well-filled stores and fine warehouses, and by well dressed and industrious people—our impressions were very favorable.
The city in this region, like all large places, has its quota of men loafing about its bridges and wharves, waiting, Micawber like, "for something to turn up." So has Atlantic Avenue, Boston. In these respects Boston is Corkish, or Cork is like Boston. About the steamer wharves and at the railway station (we don't now talk of depots, for to be true to foreign dialect, we must say station) it is the same. At these, and along the thoroughfare from it,
