he sat hobby horsically on the roof, immediately beside the place where the chimney has been opened in later and more civilized times. In other words, he sat upon a ditch, against which some dozen of lordly wattles had been laid, which wattles were slated with good long heather: and as to the side wall corresponding with the ditch, it was ornamented with fretwork of wicker-wood, and mud of the richest description. Oinogh's first injunction to Cush-suillish and his followers, was to turn him into the enclosure to the fury of the fierce animals which were in it. He himself and his serfs went within a paling that ran round it, which was covered by the outward ditch, where they stood secure, to observe his fate. The stranger proceeded to the middle, meekly and with an unruffled brow; the bisons, so to call them, were let loose upon him, but, instead of attacking him as they were wont to attack others, they licked his hands, and uttered the low and affectionate mugitus or lowing, with which any animal of the cow kind recognizes those to whom it is attached. The pagans were astonished, and came over to lash the animals by every means in their power into the fury of destruction; but they scarcely had advanced, and that with great caution, more than a dozen yards into the enclosure, when the ground sunk with inconceivable rapidity, and the stranger, who was no other than St. Patrick himself, lifted a small flat stone which lay at his feet, and instantly an enormous body of water burst forth, which filled the sunken space until it became a lake, in which Oinogh and his pagan serfs met the fate they had merited. As for the bisons they became amphibious, in reward for their forbearance. "In this lake," said Patrick, "let all cattle of their kind be washed upon the anniversary of this day; and whatever complaint they may be afflicted with shall leave them. This quality I grant to its waters, in remembrance that the cattle of the pagan refused to take my life, contrary to the wish of their master." Such is the legend upon which this station is founded. There are many in the neighbourhood who assert that the cattle have been sometimes seen in the summer nights, by their fathers and grandfathers, and that the only means of approaching them is, by holding up a beads or a rosary with the cross attached to it; for, say they, the fiercest ox that ever lived would reverence the cross ever since the birth of the Redeemer. This also is the reason why all Irish cripples wear a cross upon the heads of their crutches. Having now related the authority upon which the people rest their faith in the efficacy of its waters, I will proceed to give an account of a day spent at it about the year 1816. And here I may remark, that the number of cattle usually sick during the period of the year at which the station is held-about the dog-days-is another proof of the ingenuity that fixed the anniversary at such a critical time. But in addition to this, through the address of the youngsters who are always anxious to attend it, there is scarcely a family for miles about it who do not find something wrong with their sheep, cows, or horses, as it approaches, for it seems that the original privilege bestowed on the lake by St. Patrick, after whom it was very appropriately called, has been extended in the most liberal spirit to every four-footed, and, ultimately, to every two-legged, animal, at some period since the original miracle occurred. At what particular time is not known, but that makes little difference; the circumstance, like most of their authorities, is taken on trust. The day on which I attended, being in July, nature was in full bloom, bright, burning, and motionless-not a breeze blew to cool the oppressive heat, which scorched up the surface of the earth, until it was crisped with the rays of the sun. The rivers were dried away from their rocky beds the cattle, with blazing eyes and panting breath, were gadding madly from place to place, impatient of existence so oppressive, or stood under the shade of hedges, up to the mid leg in pools. The dogs lay with parched tongues hanging out of their mouths, their legs stretched before them, panting at a rapid rate; and the horses stood with their heads thrust into the leafy ditches, kicking the earth and shaking their ears, in the sluggish impatience, which marks that animal under the sting of the gad-fly. Young and unplethoric, all this to me was delightful; so I accordingly mounted my little grey Rahery, and set out at a canter, to see the station at Lough-Patrick. When I came within a few miles of the lake, the roads, to use an Irish phraze, "were alive" with beasts and quadrupeds of all descriptions. Horses and men, cows and women, sheep and children, goats and venerable men, who, were it not for the invention of shaving, would have had as much beard and wisdom. Many of every species were invalids; the goats seemed some in a state of consumption, and others going to enjoy the pleasures of the day. But, oh! how awful the consideration of this mirth and levity, when we reflect that they were on their way to worship Godno-I am wrong, it was St. Patrick they were going to worship-if they were bent on worshipping any thing, which in fact was not the case, for the most of them drove the cattle before them, merely as an excuse for getting to the lake. How any body of clergymen can be brazen enough, in the present day, to lay claim to the character of moral men, and yet look tamely on such abominations as take place at these stations, is astonishing. The laughing, the singing, and the gabble, both in English and Irish, the jokes and allusions which were bandied between the young persons were disgusting, and altogether revolting, to any person blessed with a moral, not to say religious, education. Then what a degree of cruelty was exercised upon the poor cattle, as they were inhumanly urged on by the whip, the goad, and the cudgel, that those who owned them might arrive in time for the sport! When I came in view of the lake, the crowd was really immense, quite beyond any thing I had expected. Thousands upon thousands were congregated from all quarters of the country-men, women, and children, old and young, of every stage and condition of life-still they were only the dregs of the people-the lowest of the low, and most ignorant of the illiterate and degraded. On approaching nearer to the lake, the first sounds audible from beneath the general and stunning marmur of the multitude, were those of mirth and jollity. Tents were erected about the fields, in which whiskey was drank and music played, and heels tossed up, by those who had a few minutes before been engaged in performing the duties of the station, or who would, in a short time, be so employed. Beside the margin of the lake, and only a short distance from it, rose a kind of hillock or knoll, from which a tolerably fair view of the whole scene could be obtained. This was certainly a singular one. At the edge of the lake, where it was shallow, came such droves of cattle of all descriptions, taking the benefit of the water, that they appeared almost numberless as they came and went in succession; as one drove approached and another retired as one set of owners cursed and another blasphemedas one cloud of sticks went up and another went down-amidst shouting, singing, swearing, fiddling, dancing, and fighting-thus performing the Worship of that pure and scriptural religion, called the Romish, before the eyes and often with the sanction of clergymen, who pretend to guard the morals of their flocks, and to have received a liberal and gentlemanly education. Fie upon it, do they acknowledge themselves to be the minis ters of God, and can they thus suffer his name and worship to be desecrated, mocked, and blasphemed? Where is common shame and public decency? where is their usual policy, which upon some occasions can remove not cancel abuses, when it may be inconvenient to have them known? A little beyond the place where the cattle were plunged into the lake, were the bipeds of both sexes performing their devotions. But here I must draw a veil over the grossness incident to the performance. Not lower did they wallow in the mire of moral corruption and ignorance, than they wallowed in the mud of the lake. Men and women, old and young. sick and hale, beggermen cripples, pilgrims and devotees, all straining through the mud, helter skelter together, as if they feared that Satan should take the hindmost. A toothless old vagrant, in the middle of his prayercan I call it so?-would scream out an oath against a more robust neighbour, thrown upon him by the pressure; the other would retort the oath with compound interest. One fellow would take that opportunity of whispering in the ear of his companion, an appointment to meet him in such a tent, and again resume his devotions, with a wink at him. Neighbour will you give me your hand-I am stuck in this mud"-and then he would curse it and instantly cross himself, and ask pardon for cursing so holy a place; "I say, nabour, lend me the lone of your hand-I'm fast." "More of that tiv ye-I'm glad to see you settled at last-you're long enough in circulation, you ould rap you; besides, frind, I never lind my hands, seein' I can't spare them widout great inconvanence-I'd not dirty my fingers wid you." "That it may wither off o' you-you unnaithrel brute beastthe curse of the poor and helpless cripple upon you every day you put a coat over your back-and that you may never die till you're as great an example as I am now!-that's my prayer upon you: an never fear but it 'ill stick to ye like a blisther, you villain!" "Keep your elbows to youself-hard feedin to you, is it the ould woman you're crushin'-hould up off my sore leg-keep down your crutchpull me up, a chora machree, an my blessin' be upon you-fire and fury what's this! my eye is out wid the spike in the ind of that cripple's cant— young woman, your gown's in the mud- neighbour, your hat's in the wather who has picked my pocket- -I say, who is it has picked my half crown-millia murdher my ribs-if you peg me frind, I'll up with my fist to you-up wid you here-down with you there-make way before lean back behind." All this by way of interjection between the prayers, with sometimes a kick here, and a cuff in another place, constituted the beauty and edification of this piece of Romish discipline. The picture, however, is not grouped sufficiently yet. There was the plashing, the neighing, and the bellowing of cattle-the thwacking of sticks upon their hard bones-the shouting of those who drove them; this joined to the above, on the one hand, and again, the singing, dancing, fiddling in the tents, the crush of the moving crowd, the murdering impulse and din of the fights, with in fact, fifty other things which I cannot bring to my memory, but yet, which had a distinct existence: all these combined, formed a picture of which the Romish religion may be proud. Here a drunken man would stagger about with his cravat half loose about his neck; his big coat hanging off one shoulder, which he would hitch up. fumblingly; whilst the good humoured stare of drunken excitement was in. character with his demand of "who'll fight?" and then he would attempt to give a caper and a spring from the ground, in doing which he would go off at a tangent, unti! a tumble into a neighbouring tent would settle him at full length on the ground. He then rises up, half laughing, half angry-bends back and forward, as if about to stagger, grasps the first man or woman he meets by the band and instantly vociferates for the landlord to bring more whiskey. Such is an outline of the station at Lough-Patrick, and it can be nothing else than an outline, for to depict it in full force, would not be suitable to the pages of your Magazine, nor at all within my power. If we reflect upon the good old times, when Popery in Ireland was unawed by the presence of a religion unencumbered by superstition-when neither knowledge nor freedom of mind was abroad to direct or check the people when the good old mother had every thing to herself and after her own fashion-w -we must certainly conclude that Ireland was the beauty of an island to live in. Those were the civilised times advocated by some droning antiquaries, who amuse us by claiming for this country a state of refinement of which not a single vestige remains, except some old abbeys, that, as in other countries, might have been erected within the very nucleus of barbarity. These were the days of fight and brawl, marauding and massacre; when priest and peasant, chieftain and bishop, were equally pugnacious, sanguinary, and vindictive; when murder and monkery, cutting throats and saying masses, heading rival feuds and leading rosaries, laying waste lands and endowing monasteries, burning castles and redeeming souls, were the order of the day; when pious lauds and rhyming Latin, hymns and hunting, praying and potation, destruction and divinity, lawlessness and logic, were all mingled together, constituting the kingdom-an Isle of Saints. Of its state in those good old times-before the established purity of rational doctrine, the right of moral freedom, and the benefits of reason, science, and the Word of God, were imposed upon the people as burdens-the Station of Lough-Patrick was a miniature sketch tolerably accurate. In all, there could not be less than twenty or thirty thousand people to pray and drink, to go through their devotion and break each other's heads, both of which they took care to perform with equal zeal. In one place, you might see a crowd, with a small circle in the middle of it, within which a miserable fiddler or piper scraped or squeezed according to the best of his ability, and striving, in vain, to keep time to the vigorous feet of the dancers, whose heads might be seen from behind the crowd, capering up and down in discordance with his melody. In other places long vistas or lanes were formed, along which the most active leapers amused themselves at that exercise; and a third assembly was engaged throwing the stone, or performing many athletic exercises of various descriptions. These, it is true, might be conducted peaceably, one would suppose, but wherever whiskey and devotion meet, there is sure to be a row, and many an explosion of the kind took place on that day. A darker trait, however, still remains to be related. At this anniversary there are usually many Protestants to be found, who go there to partake in the amusements of the place. On that day they were watched narrowly, and attacked even so early as twelve o'clock. The treatment they received was most brutal; some had their arms broken-others were barbarously used-and many left lying in a state of insensibility, and on recovery, found themselves scarcely able to crawl home, even with the greatest difficulty. In a short time the rumour of their ill usage spread Over the country, and the day was yet within some hours of its close, when a party of them who belonged to the Orange party, came to the top of the hill immediately above the lake, and with a diabolical atrocityfor which they ought to have swung in gibbets-fired upon the crowd. VOL. XI. G Two or three persons were killed, and several wounded; and those, too, of the unoffending, who had come from a considerable distance to this gross and illegal superstition, which, most assuredly, the laws of the country should put down; for such places are pests to the nation, and hot-beds where treason and murder are hatched and openly perpetrated. As for the cant of interfering with the religion of the people, it ought, in this instance, be scouted as the subterfuge of villany and disaffection, as well in the ignorant peasant as in the cunning priest, who permits it, with his eyes open to its brutal character, as well as to its consequences. Let, however, the finger of the magistrate be raised against it, or against any other abomination like it, and the priests' furious cry of persecution and intolerance is impudently and instantly raised; partial and false statements are put forth; and every altar in the kingdom rings with grievances to which the peaceable and harmless people who attend such places, are exposed! The barbarous revenge of firing upon the crowd, soon put a stop to the Station; and were it not that the mind was filled with too much horror by the appearance of the wounded and the dead, there would have been something uncommonly ludicrous in the flight of such a multitude. They ran in every state of dress-fiddlers blind as bats-pipers, with their drones still under their arms, groaning most dolorously-scrambling and tumbling over the crowd and each other-cripples who were utterly disabled all their lives, absolutely exhibited more agility than most who were present, and, in a very creditable manner led the retreat-to which that of Xenophon's ten thousand was nothing. The cattle, left without those who drove them, partook in the general panic, and ran among the crowd. It might be observed, too, that many of those who were blind, avoided the drains and ditches in their flight, with amazing discrimination, and pressed closely upon the cripples, who were foremost by signal speed of foot. The dispersion, in fact, was general and rapid, every person anxious for his own safety, and all bent on escape. This was the last of what I saw of Lough-Patrick for that day; for, I left it, I must confess, with as rapid a stride as any present. On my way home I saw a party of devotees from my own parish, coming out of a chapel on the way-side, in which they had been saying additional prayers. They consisted of young men and women, who sang at mass, I understood, every Sunday, and with strictest truth I can declare, that they were most of them in a state of intoxication coming out of the chapel. A lame girl, on a crutch, had particular difficulty in balancing herself, even with the assistance of a young man who was afterwards her husband. This, however, came to the ears of their priest, who compelled them to stand at chapel, as a punishment for violating the rules of sobriety on such a holy occasion. Such was one day spent in the midst of Romish purity-but I may add, that during that night I reviewed the same unholy din and bustle in my dreams-I imagined that I heard the volley of the musketry-thought I was wounded-and felt extremely happy on awakening, to find myself on my bed, instead of being at the riotous and ungodly abominations of Lough-Patrick. F. G. |