Chamberss Edinburgh Journal, No. 433 | Page 9

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 right-hand man--his manager, sub-agent, &c.: he was rich in cows and sheep; and though rather advanced in life, he married a very young girl, who had a fortune of forty cows. By degrees, Tim grew careless, lost his office,