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fell into equally competent hands desiring their restoration.

Our road was next over a rich and well-cultivated country; but not far off were the wild and rugged hills separating Clare from Galway, and the Shannon flowed along lovely banks, fed by many tributaries. Some were rapid mountain streams, tumbling over beds of rock, overhung with waving trees, the leaves golden with autumnal tints. A venerable house, called Atterbury Lodge, was pointed out as we drove by. Its pointed gables and casemented windows, mantled with ivy, gave it an appearance strikingly picturesque. The name also indicated it owed its erection to other than Irish taste. I asked how it gained the name of the celebrated Bishop of Rochester, and my erudite host said, "After the bill of pains and penalties had been passed against the bishop, in 1723, he was sentenced by the Lords to be deprived of all his offices, banished the realm, and sentenced to death in case of return. He went to France, accompanied by his daughter. While in France Miss Atterbury was married to the Rev. Mr. Morice, who had been a fellow-student at Oxford with William, third Earl of Thomond. This nobleman told his friend, the Rev. Mr. Morice, that he (Lord Thomond) had the right of presentation to several benefices in Thomond, and if Mr. Morice would accept half a dozen livings in Ireland he was quite welcome to them. This liberal offer was promptly accepted. The Rev. Mr. Morice became rector of a union of parishes in the vicinity of Six-Mile Bridge, county Clare; and he built this quaint and picturesque house, which he called Atterbury Lodge, after his distinguished father-in-law." It is at present on the property of my host.

Not far from this ancient edifice stands another, also belonging to my friend, and called "The Lodge,"

A

having formerly been a lodge or hunting dwelling of the lords of Thomond. This also claimed my notice. It is a prettily-situated, convenient mansion, with wellarranged rooms; but my friend's wife declined to occupy it, from the melancholy associations connected with its site. Clare, as well as its proximate county of Galway, was remarkable in the days when duelling was a common mode of settling all differences between gentlemen, for the number of its so-called affairs of honour. In Ireland, sixty years ago, no gentleman could take his proper place in the society of that day who had not "smelt powder," and the lawn of the Lodge was a favourite place for such meetings. The occupant in the early part of the present century was Mr. Samuel Spaight, subsheriff of the county Clare. friend of his, Mr. Bridgeman, with several others, dined with him. After dinner one day, when the punch was circulating, a servant told Mr. Bridgeman "he was wanted outside." At the hall door Mr. Bridgeman saw his herdsman, who told him "a number of his cattle were sent to the pound for trespass, by orders of Mr. Spaight." Bridgeman, incensed at this proceeding, returned to the dining-room. "Sam," said he, "are you aware my cattle have been sent to pound ?""Quite aware of it. I told my steward not to allow any man's cattle to trespass on my property," replied Mr. Spaight. "Then you and your property be -!" cried the enraged owner of the impounded beasts. "If I was not in my own house, and you one of my guests, I'd pound you," cried the master of the mansion. "Don't let your fastidiousness stop you, my tight fellow," replied Mr. Bridgman. "If you're willing to go out, I'm at your service," said Mr. Spaight, rising. from the table. "I beg your par

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don, gentlemen, for leaving you for a short time. Here, Mr. Bridgeman, are two brace of pistols, ready for use. Take your choice. Con M'Namara will be my second, and I dare say Mick Malony will act for you." Both gentlemen nodded acquiescence, and the quartette left the room.

The moon shone clear as a noonday sun, and twelve paces of the ground was measured near the Lodge. The principals were placed, and the word "Fire" caused both pistols to explode.

Mr.

Spaight missed, but Mr. Bridgeman left his host quivering on the daisies. He received a ball in the seat of honour that lamed him for life.

A still more fatal encounter took place later, when a Mr. Howard fought Mr. Foley, and shot him dead. These incidents made such an impression on the lady's mind, she could not be induced to occupy a dwelling to which such memories were attached.

A few miles nearer to Limerick is Bunratty, on the bank of the river Ratty, a tributary of the Shannon. This regal keep, for centuries, was the chosen seat of the kings of Thomond. It is impossible to look upon its lofty towers, and sturdy battlements, soaring high above the surrounding woods, without being impressed with its feudal grandeur. The night was closing round as we mounted the steps leading into the vaulted hall, and ascended to the spacious chambers where the O'Briens of Thomond ruled in days of yore. When the Anglo-Norman invaders came to Ireland this was the site of the palace of Donald O'Brien, King of Thomond, and here monarch after monarch lived and died, until, in A.D. 1276, Edward I. made a grant of the barony of Bunratty to Thomas de Clare, who built the castle and strongly fortified it. He had need to do so. The storm of battle speedily raged around Bun

ratty. The O'Briens rose in their might and defeated the Anglo-Normans. They were pursued to the very towers of Bunratty, and forced to seek shelter within the walls of the fortress. Seldom a year then passed without fierce wars desolating the district, and history states that, in 1322, the castle was taken and razed to the ground by the O'Briens of Thomond. It was again rebuilt by Con M'Shuda M'Namara. It soon again was held by the O'Briens, for it was in the heart of their kingdom, and remained in their possession until the reign of Elizabeth. In the year 1588 the army of the Earl of Essex, Elizabeth's unfortunate viceroy, besieged it. He took it by storm from Sir Donal O'Brien, whom he proclaimed a traitor. proclaimed a traitor. The castle was next given to one of the race of O'Brien, who did homage to England's Queen, and became Earl of Thomond. During the wars between Cromwell and the Confederated Catholics, Bunratty was It was stoutly contended for. captured by the Earl of Iuchiquin, though bravely held by the troops of the Commonwealth; retaken by Lord Forbes, by means of a fleet sailing on the Shannon, when, according to Ludlow's Memoirs, no less than two thousand pounds sterling was found buried in the walls, and as many as sixty horses were in the stables. A garrison of considerable strength, left here by Cromwell, was not able to resist the attack of the Irish under Lord Muskerty, to whom it capitulated on honourable terms after a siege of six weeks. Having sufficient light to survey the interior, we passed through the various rooms which, until lately, were occupied by the present possessor, Mr. Studdert's family. Traces of rich decorations remain, and the chapel, in one of the square towers, must have been especially beautiful.

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As I stood upon the roof, and looked forth upon the ancient defences beneath, my thoughts reverted to those times when mailed chieftain and half-naked kerne contended for mastery in these halls, and the shout of "St. George' was answered by the Lamb laider enuchthur* of the O'Briens. Happily these days are over, and the ancient fortalice, once the seat of Thomond's kings, now shelters in one of its towers a few policemen of the Royal Irish Constabulary.

A short drive brought our carriage from Bunratty Castle to Ballymorris, the seat of my hospitable friends. Here the scenery is very fine; in front rolls the mighty Shannon, bearing numbers of white-sailed ships on their voyage, while the distant hills of the county of Limerick, the wooded slopes of Carrig-a-Gunnell, the ivy-mantled ruins of many a once strong castle, diversify the scene.

Having enjoyed the cordial greeting of my accomplished friends, I left them for Limerick. The old castle of Cratloe is on the route, and the historic city presents a very striking appearance. But Limerick demands a fresh chapter.

CHAPTER X.

THE situation of Limerick is very striking. On every side ranges of lofty mountains rise to shelter it, and the fertile district called the Golden Vein dips into the hills. The broad bosom of the lordly Shannon displays a series of lakes as it rolls on its way to the sea. It spreads into a noble estuary some miles below the city. Then the city itself, with its historic castles, its famed walls, its ancient town, with its quaint old streets of gabled houses, built after the style so

common in the old Flemish towns, the new portion of the city presenting so great a contrast to the old in its regular streets, its fine public buildings, its banks, churches, theatre, institutions, all excite the interest, the curiosity, and the admiration of the visitor.

As I have no intention of entering into competition with my worthy friend Mr. Lenihan, in writing a history of Limerick, I shall content myself with noticing such features as fairly come within my province as the historian of the Munster Circuit.

The old "Head Inn" of Limerick was in Cornwallis Street. I presume it was here the bar mess was held in ancient days. Mrs. Siddons and other eminent actresses and actors took up their abode here; the first coach, the "Fly," started thence on its four-day journey to the Irish metropolis. While I went circuit we frequented Swinburn's Hotel. This hostelry was a large, rambling house, wherein we were occasionally not over-well served. I remember once our attention being attracted by a venerable dish of pastry, from which the down was appearing like an incipient moustache on the lips of a youth. One of the bar, I think the present Judge FitzGerald, inquired of one of the waiters, "How often has that dish been placed upon the bar mess table?" table?" The Garryowen boy's face puckered with a smile as he replied, "Why, then, counsellor, 'pon my conscience I can't say, for I was not here at the last Assizes." dinners, however, were, as a rule, well served, and the famous Limerick salmon sure to be a popular dish. The judges were well lodged, and I can speak of their lordships' table being always well supplied.

The

At Limerick, until 1809, it was

"The strong hand uppermost," the motto of the O'Brien's.

customary for the judges to be borne in sedan chairs, fully robed, from their lodging to the courthouse. Should any of my readers be so juvenile as to have no idea what was the shape of a sedan chair, I may briefly say it was a capacious box, having inside a comfortable seat, with a door in front, about four feet high. It was lighted by a glass window. These chairs were covered with leather, and carried by two men-one in front and one behind-who sustained the chair and their fare by long poles. The chairmen moved at a pace of about four miles an hour. They are now quite

obsolete.

was

The County Court-house built in 1732. An arched way led to a lane in St. Frances' Abbey, the site of the court-house. In 1750 a high gaol was built in the middle of Mary Street; the lower dungeons were placed in the basement; these, necessarily, were gloomy and unclean. Not only felons, but debtors and political prisoners, were condemned to these dismal cells.

Limerick has been famous for her gardens. Who has not heard of Garryowen? Here, in this Limerick Vauxhall, originated the acquaintance which culminated in one of the most foul murders ever disclosed during the trial of the perpetrators, as we shall see in due time. At present we wish to call the attention of our classical readers to a Latin version of the popular song of Garryowen, with its well-known chorus:

"Instead of Spa we'll drink brown ale,
And pay the reckoning on the nail-
No man for debt shall go to jail,
From Garryowen in glory."

The nail was a stone pillar, set up in the Exchange, whereon debtors were wont to discharge their liabilities. The air to which the popular words were adapted, is usually played after the Irish

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"CARMEN GARRYOWENIENSES. "O Baccheidæ impavidi, Adsitis compotanti mi! Ut decet vos fortissimi,

Ad pulchre concinendum. Chorus-Cervisiam fuscam pro aqua bibamus

Symbolam promptam illico damus,

Absit ut nexi in vincla eamus
Ex Garryowen insigni!

"Juvenes sumus qui talia curent, Frangere lychnos dum splendidaurant Et Limericenses plateis jurant

Nos cunctos depugnares!

"Fenitris domorum et forileus cœsis, Et ternis quaternis vigilibus læsis, Signa inspiciat medicus necis,

Et illinantur vulnera!

"Ludentes pulsabimus omnem licto

rem,
Prætorem urbanum et genus horum-
Nequis efflagitit æs debitorem
In Garryowen insigni.

"Virtus nostra famam quærit
Unde venimus nemo hæret
Quum nomere tuum terrorem ferat,
Ò Garryowen insignis!

"Johannes O'Connell procerus et fortis
Cujusvis oneris sudibus tortis,
Ex Garryowen ad Thomondi portas
Projiciet insignis!

"Sed Garryowen sublabi sivit,
Ex quo Johannes Corkagian ivit,—
Et Harry O'Brien vinclis salivit,

Coram Judici et Juratores."

It was not merely upon Owen's garden Limerick rested her horticultural fame. Roche's "Hanging Garden," and those of Mr. William Mr. Carr, also were celebrated. Francis Wheeler, father of Lady Bulwer Lytton, wrote some verses

on these last-named gardens in 1809, which I quote here :-

"You may travel the nation all over, From Dublin to sweet Mullingar, And a garden you will not discover Like the garden of sweet Billy Carr; 'Tis there that the tall trees were planted,

In the days of the old Tommy Parr; And the soft winding Shannon is flowing

Round the garden of sweet Billy Carr.

'Tis there the big praties are growing, Enough to supply all Dunbar, Where the soft winding Shannon is flowing

Round the garden of sweet Billy Carr. His sisters, like sweet pretty posies, More beauteous than roses by far, They bloom like carnations and roses, In the garden of sweet Billy Carr. Oh may they be happily married To a mayor, and a lawyer, and tar; How blest will they be when they're wed

With the sisters of sweet Billy Carr! "Now if you've a mind to live frisky, And trouble and grief you would mar, I'd advise you to go and drink whisky Along with the sweet Billy Carr.

In a room, sir, he keeps a big bottle, Without either crack, flaw, or star, Which is often applied to the throttle Of that thirsty gay soul, Billy Carr."

But we must turn to more serious subjects than the Limerick gardens, in which we have disported with the local bards. I desire to preserve in our history the memories of some distinguished natives of Limerick who have been members of the Munster Circuit.

Chief Baron O'Grady was born at Mount Prospect, in the county of Limerick, on the 20th January, 1767. His family possessed considerable property in the county, and, as the young O'Grady displayed great talents, it was decided he was fit for the bar. He became a student also of Trinity College, Dublin, where his career was highly successful.

Having been called to the bar, his legal acquirements soon obtained him lucrative practice. He selected the Munster Circuit, where his extensive connections backed him with their influence; but his legal knowledge put him soon in the front rank of the bar.

He succeeded the Right Hon. John Stewart as Attorney-General on the 8th of June, 1802. The mad attempt to renew the rebellion of the year 1798, made by the cuthusiast Robert Emmet, afforded the Attorney-General ample employment in the year 1803. He prosecuted the chiefs of that terrible émeute in which the humane Lord Kilwarden, Chief Justice of the King's Bench, lost his life. Mr. O'Grady became Chief Baron of the Exchequer, in the room of Lord Avonmore, on October 19, 1805. For the period of twenty-seven years Chief Baron O'Grady presided on the Exchequer bench, then having both an equitable as well as legal jurisdiction. He was a great wit, possessed dry caustic humour, great knowledge of human nature, and a sarcastic turn of mind. Some anecdotes display this. During an assize in Tralee there was much noise in court. The judges' crier called "Silence!" by the desire of the Chief Baron, but it was not attended with success. The High Sheriff, who was occupied with a book, was so engrossed by its pages, he never interfered until aroused by the Chief Baron calling aloud," Mr. Sheriff, if you allow this great noise to go on you will never be able to finish your novel in quiet." The Chief Baron's brother, Darby O'Grady, caught some boys stealing his turnips. "Chief Baron," he said, "do you think I could indite them under the Timber Act?" "No, brother," replied the Chief, "unless the turnips were sticky."

A boy, indicted for larceny of a pair of trousers, was tried before

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