to turn an honest penny or to earn one; and very demonstrative they are, and the cabmen as well. Americans are often outdone by them. One of these boys, at the moment of our landing from the steamer, seized our valises and would carry them. He insisted and we resisted, and at length the American element in us—"the spirit of '76"—was aroused, and in the ascendant; and to convince him that he ought to let go his hold, down came a hand on his arm with a force, and accompanied by a tone of voice and ejaculation, that meant business. "Keep off! Let go!" was the order and advice, and he did both.
Here, as at Queenstown, the little donkeys were on hand, and rendering a large and patient service. The public buildings are not very important, but substantial and good of their kind. Conspicuous among the new edifices is the Episcopal Cathedral now being erected. It is of stone, very imposing, with three towers, and in the Romanesque style of architecture. The Roman Catholic Cathedral, SS. Peter and Paul, also of dark limestone, having cut or hammered dressing, is a Gothic structure of considerable size, with a good tower at the centre of the front end, crowned with four turrets, and having a neat but small lawn, surrounded with an iron fence, about the cathedral's front. It was erected after designs by the celebrated F. W. Pugin, and cost $150,000. The interior, although not old, was dirty and presented a dingy appearance. We were told by the verger (sexton) that times being hard, business dull, and the people poor, accounted for the condition. We differed in opinion in other respects than theologically, but made no mention of the fact, and passed out.
Of course we must see, and soon at that, the church of St. Ann's, Shandon, and so made for that. It ought before to have been said that soon after crossing the river the land rises quite fast; so that as one stands in the business part, and in the thoroughfare along the line of the river—and looks across the entire section of the city from the river backwards, the distant parts are seen towering much above the business portion. High up, along from the centre to the right, appear shade-trees and good gardens, with other evidences of a better civilization; but from these along to the left is presented a view quite the opposite of the front, or harbor, view of Queenstown. There, the low population is to the right and near the water; while here it begins half-way up the hill at the centre, and extends a half-mile or more to the left; and, as we leave the centre named, the buildings on the hillside, and the group or lot widening till they reach from the river to the top of the hill, are so arranged that, with houses of several stories and of remarkably quaint design, the high roofs appear in ranges one above the other, and the great hillside presents a strange, antique, thoroughly European appearance. They are of stone, built in the most substantial manner, and are unlike anything that can be found in America.
But we resume our journey to St. Ann's, Shandon. As observed from the river streets, it stands not far from the Catholic Cathedral, nor far from the centre of the hillside, as regards extent right and left, or elevation. The edifice was built in 1722. The tower was built of hewn stone, taken from the Franciscan Abbey—where James II. heard mass—and from the ruins of Lord Barry's castle. It is of dark limestone on the three principal sides, and, like the body of the church, with red sandstone on the rear side above the church roof. The edifice is made celebrated by what are termed and somewhat well known as The Sweet Bells of Shandon, made conspicuous by the poem of Father Prout:—
"Sweet Bells of Shandon,
That sound so grand on
The pleasant waters of the River Lee."
The church is Protestant Episcopal, and is of a debased Roman architecture. It has a square tower rising a proper distance above the roof, and this is crowned by a series of three square sections of somewhat ill proportions as regards their low height; and the top one is finished with a small dome surmounted by an immense fish as a vane, the tower and steeple being perhaps one hundred and twenty feet high. We did not hear the bells, save as they played a few notes at the quarter-hours. The one on which the hours are struck is probably the largest tenor bell, and weighs perhaps 2000 pounds. What we did hear of them did not arouse enthusiasm. We simply thought them good average bells, and made more than that, in song and story, simply by Father Prout's poem. One thing about the tower struck us forcibly, and that was the monstrous dials, full twelve feet in diameter, painted directly on the stonework of the tower, with a rim of stone at the figure circle.
Next, a few words in relation to the population and condition of this part of the city. It will be remembered that we are now in the centre of the hillside, as seen from the business parts of the place, and at an elevation of full sixty feet—in the conspicuous, and what ought to be aristocratic, quarter of the metropolis. But alas for what "might have been." The street in front, and the passage along the side of this building, are ill cared for and filthy in the extreme. A burial-ground forms part of the premises on both sides of the edifice, and is as neglected and disgraceful as one can well imagine. On the right is a thoroughfare alongside of the church, leading through the cemetery to some institution—perhaps a parish-school or hospital—in the rear of the church, and fronting on this passage-way. Here are cast-off shoes, broken crockery, stones thrown about by the boys, and unmentionable filth in abundance. At the right are broken monuments, badly defaced gravestones, and half-dilapidated tombs, all betokening a general lack of care over the premises.
Walking from the front of the church to the narrow and filthy streets that compose the neighborhood, we noticed such odors, sights, and conditions as we had before erroneously associated with all of Cork. We here saw a low Ireland at its best—or worst, as we may choose to term it; for here abounded dirt, degradation, poverty, and general squalor, up to the height of our early imagination. The houses are of stone, plastered and whitewashed, most of them one or two stories high, with roofs covered with very small and thick slates. We soon had enough of this kind of "Erin go bragh." If we did not know all that was possible to be known, imagination would, in spite of us, aggravatingly supply what was lacking.
As we passed out of this "Paradise Lost," or at least the one not regained, we could but feel that to make less display of service within their churches, depend less for good fame on the Sweet Bells of Shandon, and render a more reasonable and practical service, would be more rational, Christian and right.
We are told that the ancient Pharisees made the outside clean, and the inside was full of dead men's bones, and all manner of uncleanness. These people have reversed this, and without visible improvement.
Next must be named a thing of interest, and that is the Bazaar. It is a one-story building of immense size, and in appearance like a railway freight-house. Built of stone, and centrally situated, it is filled with every conceivable kind of second-hand goods. Separated, market-like, into stalls, it is so arranged and confusing as to make a labyrinth of avenues and divisions. Here are such things as old hardware, boots and shoes—some as poor and valueless as we throw away, some better and newly blacked—clothing for both sexes, crockery—and we might continue the list. The Bazaar is managed by women, and the place and its commodities are as indescribable as the nationality of the Man in the Moon.
As at Queenstown, we saw much drunkenness, and often met, singly or in squads, the Red-coats, or English soldiers; but more concerning these will be said in another place.
The space we devote to this city is perhaps more than its share, but less can hardly be said, and our references to it are ended by a quotation or two from its history.
It is said that Cromwell, during his short sojourn in Cork, caused the church bells to be cast into cannon. On being remonstrated with against the profanity, he replied that as a priest had been the inventor of gunpowder, the best use of the bells would be to cast them into canons.
It was here that William Penn, founder of our Pennsylvania, became a convert to Quakerism. He visited the place to look after his father's property, changed his religion under the preaching of Thomas Loe, and on Sept. 3, 1667, was apprehended with others and taken before the Mayor's Court, charged
