Chamberss Edinburgh Journal, No. 433 | Page 9

since been made there:

the Atlantic Ocean is so directly beneath, that a passenger may drop a
stone into it as he drives along; while Droum Hill stands
perpendicularly above him. It is a most magnificent scene; terminating
with the ruins of Daniel O'Connell's birthplace. Visitors to Ireland
usually conclude their journey at Killarney; but if they would continue
their route to Caragh Lake, Blackstone, Lady Headley's improvements,
and go on through the Pass of Droum to Valentia and Cahersiveen, they
would discover that Killarney is only the opening to a scene of
grandeur and sublimity.
Mr C---- found Ballyvourney in the inaccessible state I have described.
The people held every year, on Whitsunday, a royal faction-fight; and
for this, preparation was made almost every Sunday in the year. They
fought with deadly weapons, sticks loaded with lead, and stones.
Pensioners, who were accustomed to firearms, were hired for the
occasion; but the weapon chiefly used was a short scythe, and men may
still be found bearing its mark in contracted legs and arms: one man
having Tim Halisy, his mark; another, Paddy Murphy, his mark,
indelibly inscribed on his body. They had little or no agriculture--no
wheeled cart, and scarcely even a spade. A crop of oats was a curiosity;
and when there was such a thing, the only mode of conveying it to
market was on a horse's back. Their agricultural operations were
confined to feeding cattle, and they depended on their milk and butter
for paying their rent, and purchasing the necessaries of life. Their mode
of carrying butter to Cork was curious. I have often seen crowds of
thirty, forty, or fifty men, seated on little ill-formed horses, which had
two panniers swinging on the back, containing frequently only a single
firkin of butter in one, and a stone in the other, the man being seated
between. They fed their horses on the road-side, never entering an
inn-yard; and they generally travelled by night. No one would trust
another with his property; and on their journey of forty Irish miles, they
expended no money. The scythe was their farming-implement to cut
such coarse hay as grew in the bottoms near rivers. On Whitsunday,
whoever could keep possession of a large stone called Carrigun na
Killeagh, was champion for the year, and the party to which he
belonged was triumphant until the next annual battle. On one occasion,
the battle was almost ended, the champion was possessor of the stone

for nearly the prescribed time; he gave one cheer of victory, then
another, and was about to give the crowning cheer, when a signal was
made to a pensioner, who had been hired for the purpose, and placed in
ambush. He fired, and the ball pierced the conqueror's neck, without
mortally wounding him. The man fell, and while on the ground, was
seen pulling the moss and grass around him, and stuffing them into the
wound, to prevent the flow of blood, that he might again mount the
rock of victory. The next day he was seen out of doors by the doctor,
for whom his wife had secretly sent; and after much entreaty, his
determination not to allow the opposite party to know that he had been
seriously hurt was overcome, and he permitted the doctor to examine
the wound, and replace the styptics of his own providing with more
scientific remedies.
Another story of the barbarism of the people was told me on my
journey. A farmer's cow had momentarily trespassed on another man's
land, one of a hostile faction. The farmer offered to pay for the damage,
but the reply he received was a shot which killed him on the spot. His
brother, who saw the catastrophe, ran to raise the victim; but the man
had already reloaded his gun, and shot the brother dead. A third brother,
having seen the two fall, ran to the succour so quickly, that the
murderer had not time to complete the reloading of his gun; and as a
crowd was collecting, he ran off. Mr C---- used every exertion to have
him taken, and for three years was unsuccessful; until obtaining the aid
of a neighbour, a petty chieftain of a hostile clan, he at last succeeded.
On the trial, one of the men who had witnessed the murders, and whom
Mr C---- called to swear informations, denied the guilt of the accused,
swore an alibi, and declared that he had on the day in question sold him
a cow at a fair twenty miles distant. He was, however, convicted, and
hanged on the spot where the murders were committed. By
punishments of various kinds--transporting the most hardened, and
sending others to the treadmill--the people were at length brought into
some sort of order.
Tim Halisy was Mr C----'s