DUNGANNON.

Press, Volume LXVI, Issue 13876, 29 October 1910, Page 7

DUNGANNON.

THE SEAT OF THE EARL O.F

ILANFURLY

(By Mrs Malcolm Ross.)

(written- for "the tress.")

Ireland, true to her character, greeted mc, most uncomplimentarily, with copious tears, and continued to be dn a lachrymose mood until t|hei steamer swung off for Glasgow. But, even in rain, the country is fascinating, and the sunshine is doubly valued because it is so rare. I write country advisedly. There is nothing charming about Belfast on a wet day. The streets are muddy, and there aro so many poor tliat ono not accustomed to beggars and poverty gets quickly heartsick. In sunshine, perhaps, an Irish colleen, with shawl over her head and with bare feet, is a romantic addition to the landscape, but there is no poetry in a bedraggled, dirty woman, with haggard, melancholy face framed in dingy black, and with shapeless figure, wrapped in faded clothes. The children, too, make the heart ache, for niin|.iy of them aro only half clad, and seem wholly neglected. My last memory of Belfast Ayas the sound of children's voices mingling with the torrents of rain, heard in tho cold darkness outside the cosy saloon. They were playing on the wharf when all homo babies should bo tucked up in their little beds, fast asleep. But, true to their Irish character, their laughter rang out under depressing surroundings, to be changed into a pitiful appeal for a penny as a passenger, likely to be moved to give, came up the gangway. But tliis is in a large city, and in the country-, though poverty may be as great, thero is more space and freedom and healthier surroundings, to say nothing of kindly charity and care from tho "groat house" that stands near. Alas, many of the latter are either shut up or only occupied by a caretaker, for landowners either cannot affortl nowadays to live on their property, or else thoy havo sold it to aliens, who occupy it for a month or two in the year and havo no patience or sympathy with tho Irish peasant. Many splendid old places, rich in historical interest, aro vacant and silent, the tide of life that filled them in bygone days having ebbed, and left them in a backwater of desolation and sadness. The good old days when the creat house was tho home of tho lord are gone, and with them much of the comfort and happiness of the peasant. it is not easy to foresee brighter tilings, either, for Ireland. But tho country' has a soft beauty of its own—not so brilliant nor so gracious as that of England, nor so romantic and stern as Scotland, but delicately appealing in contour and colour, and ftdl of exquisite harmonies and vistas, where wooels beyond woods molt into dreamier bluo, and soft grey ranges blend with the sombre sky. My little, train iourney from Belfast to Dungannon was nit-mo rablo for various new experiences. One was tho sight of snowy lengths of linen lying on tho green grass slopes, bleaching in the soft air and gently falling rain. Another was my first.peat bog, glorious intones of chocolate,sienna, umber, and purple, each ridge crested by tho royal violet of the heather, and with steel-grey pools gleaming here and there. It was a wonderful combination of colour. Still another feature of my journey was the brogue of the young man who sat opposite mc, and who supplied my aching void with scraps of intelligence. Portadown, ho told mo, was far from dull, for there tho feeling between Protestants and Catholics was so acute that, when the latter went an excursion, the former lined up on the platform or road and tlirew stones at the train! The Catholics retaliated when opportunity offered, and matters grew to Bucb a, pitch often that firearms were discharged and men were wounded. This hostility is sadly general, and evidences of it are common. • , Dungannon itself is rich in history, and. of course, interesting to all New Zealanders, because it is the home of the Earl and Countess of Ranfurly, who are I so affectionately remembered in tho Do- ! minion, where they lived eeven years. There is little danger of forgetting that Lord Ranfurly, is the Lord of the Manor, for the iron gates of almost every field are centred with a large R., and tho town abounds in signs and symbols relative to tho family. Dungannon was once a seat of O'Neill, the daring spirit who, in defiance of English authority, proclaimed himself King of Ulster, and ravaged the country all about. With a keen eyo for a strategic position, he established himself on a hill that elominates the country, and there built his castle. Of it, nothing remains except tho subterranean passages tliat burrow underground for milc-s, and were probably used as retreats in timo of attack. Lord llanfurly and I made a pilgrimage to the place on tho most lachrymose of days, the long lush gra_s far abovo our ankles, and the mud slippery and abundant, but enthusiasm and old clothes—Lord Ranfurly de»clarcd that his own coat was tbe oldest thing in tho house—triumphed over conditions, and we crested tho bill, looked at the wide stretches of view, limited by envious mists, but at happier times showing nine counties, and tried to picture the stirring scenes of long ago. when O'Neill was ousted from his stronghold by three doughty English knights—Hill, Chichester, and Char-lemoni—and the town of Dungannon began to cluster about its central stronghold. But the O'Neill mado one last desperate effort to regain

r 1 his fort, and celebrated his saccese byl ' massacring all tlie inhabitant- of easti-l *■ and town, both of which later werol -"■ destroyed by fire. Although now four! 1 picturesque mined towers crown thai 1 hill, and ignorance might easily mi"- --" agino them part of tho old castfe, " really there is nothing left of tbe ' original building but tho undergroand j passages, and they are dangerous and. in many cases blocked up. Ktexo seems a curso on the spot where so ," much blood has been shed, for tho towers are all that remain of a nu_'« [ sion which was burnt- before it becamo . a home, and now tho place is given up to picturesque desolation. One of tho • subterranean passages, which werol linnd with brick, is said to lead to titol i old castle at Castlecaulfield, » romantic i ruin not far from Dungannon, where | the ancestors of Lady llanfurly lived. § Thero I was shown a beautiful old! churoli, whero is buried tho warlike 1 parson, the Itov. George Walker, whol was tho hero of tlio Siogo of lundon-§ derry, and who, in times of peace, | tutored tho children of tho llanfurly 1 of those days. There, too, lies Wolfo, § curate of tho parish, who wroto '"Tho § Burial of Sir John Moore." | Northland House, the seat of tlie Earl 1 of llanfurly, is situated close to the § town, though its magnificent grounds 1 stretch for miles across, tho country, | and ono may drive or walk for hours 1 through its splendid woods. The house I is stately, v.-ith a colonnaded front of jj great width, and large, beautiful rooms. § The halls, from the centra ono of which. 1 springs a wick, stono staircase with I graceful iron railings, are of tesselatod I white stone and black marble, and tho 1 newcomer has to learn by experience I that the marble affords treacherous I footing, and, if wise and warned, will I tako care to step on tlio great skins— I lion, zebra, bear, aud tiger—that aro I spread on the floor. All of .theso huvo § been shot by men of tho family, a largo-1 proportion by Lord Northland. But 1 the mansion is a perfect treasure-house I of valuable and interesting things, and I every room—and thero are seventy-five* |j of them—holds something that has old I associations. It took nearly a forenoon f to go through the house, and even then I wo ditl not penetrate into tlio huge | cellars, which a hundred years ago, f when servants wero not so well cared 1 for, were the kitchens, storeroom-, ajwl 1 sculleries. Thero aro two galleries into 1 which bedrooms open, and the walls I are so thick that most of tlio room*. |' havo double doors. Up in the nurseries, § tho largo night nursery has a square I hole cut in the wall between it and f. the adjoining room, and in the aper- 5 ture a light is fixed. This, a century I ago, was tho arrangement a rosoui'ce- I fui mother mado so that tho head §* nurse c- uld look at her sleeping §• charges without disturbing them by i. going into their room. But Northland, f House, with all its wonderful contents, f. is too big a subject to touch at p-re- | sent, and must be reserved for another I' article. 'Centuries of brilliant, cul- § tured, artistic men and women have At, gathered together fascinating stores of | treasures, and their present chatelaine |* is versed in all their histories. . § Tho park—or rather parks for there w is an inner close about the house and I an outer, where the iJungannon people ij aro allowed to come—is full of dengbv- § ful surprises. Beyond the fair wide ff slopes of lawn that front tlie house and | that curve into a aeries of silver lakes I where swans and cygnets havo -heir ft home, mc tho most r.mantic walks, J avenues of sunshine and shadow, 1 beocuos, oaks, chestnuts, limes—in $ -utumn, a glory of gold, bronze, _.__" g criuuson. Even now the laburnums— 1, and the park is noted for these —aro I showering largesse' «»f gold at our feet, | and here and thero in the woods a | chestnut tree is splashed with _•• arlet | and russet. It must be iudescrio*. bb» | gorgeous in full flush of autumn, and I in spring wo are told the wild powers | are wonderful. The bluebells lie so §

thick that they look liko scraps of the |J sky and yellow primroses and violets Kg carpet the ground under the great trees. g,j There is one approach to the house, B| , where tho motor goes for a gical dis- m ; tance betwen sloping walls—thirty tcet ffl high—of rhododendron, a mass of I| glorious bloom in their season; and in SI tlio outer park, boyond the gardener _ 1| cottage—a charming little red-gabled f|l house fit for a fairy-tale picture—is » mm magnificent lime-tree avenue, tho im- wi inenso trunks rising in stately ranks ,on |_ either banel and their graceful branches nfl interlacing far overhead. Down this SS avenue, across the rustic bridge tlsat IB spans another lake, end up the hill in through the woods beyond, the country 3 9 folk hurry, even when the sun has not if §1 quite set. At night, unless driven by II aire necessity, thoy would not venture, gH for the spirits of the dead wonder moan- a m ing and wailing among tho trees. Wo ||| walked miles through tho park in the 111 most dreaded spot, where ghosts ore to Sl| be met with nightly. Here, in a dip, &m is the ruin of a great tree, called Int. r3 "spotted doe," marking an old battle- ii field wher a terrible slaughter took place. S Tho details are lost in the mists -of tSt ages, but it was so long ago that then m no woods had been planted. At any H rate, any belated traveller—and I was tm too debghted to find anything out of 11 the commonplace to disbebevemy serious |§ guide—can hear thero all tho terribl. 1 tj_ conflict, the groans of the woundod r |l| the shouts of tho victors, tho clash, ox I|l arms. Everyone, by the way, belieyess §Wt in ghosts in Ireland, and.an apparition | M is as common as an appurtenance—EH and maybe commoner—to a large old lis house as a high-pressure * boLlejf or al» croquet-lawn. I have listenetl -asci-PB nated, with a creeping down my *-_•_*_-> fl| to a hardheaded, s\irowd man recount-«IK ing lus weird experiences with a ghost ft IK ho never saw, only felt, and have met fr-8 a lady who owned a banshee that wa. ifß never at fault when occasion required, ff n I At the end of an upward vista of II exquisite foliage is an opening, and§r|j there on a.grassy knoll is an old rond-ftS mill, its sails gone, and its picturesque 111 outlines blurred with luxuriant ivy. Not 111 far is the original house of the Knox, Sf| who came from Scotland hundreds <_-§■§§ years ago, and bought Dungannon. NowSja it is the residence of some of the em-W ployees, but it'is impressive in Its|:Mß stern, square solidity, grey stoned, small|§| windowed, and massive with a great] Jra| courtyarei at- the back, and close by _ : 9h huge old-walled fruit garden, whose "111 trees are gnarled and bent with age. A '__\ stroll about tho park is full of enchant" IM ing surprises. One morning wo came |H upon the quaintest summer-iiousc, l___-fsl{j concealed in tho dense trees, close tof-jffj the edge of the lako. It had tables, jj§s| benches, and a fireplace in it, and l_ngfil| ago tho ladies of the house used to do "J|| their embroidery or read there. Now, Jf| in winter —wheu the lako is frozen over j £| —it affords a cheery shelter for the \W& skaters, who make merry picnic in it. |B| Lord llanfurly allows the people of JSi Dungannon to como and go in the outer &_t park, where they play cricket and other : Wm ganio3. The privilege is much appro- >MJBa ciatod and never abused. The inner and outer parks are connected by a stone *|«| tunnel under tho public roadway, and .{HW| the arch frames the loveliest of land- -JIH scapes, as one emerges from the cfiill ls| dusk. In one part of the ground ia a |aj| stone cross, which once formed tiart of WM tho church, but which met with _uctt Wgrn eevere Protestant criticism that it was Jgjij taken down before its threatened do- i||| struction took place. Tho employees |||S seem devoted to their master and mis- §3_| treas. One old man, upwards of seventy, |§H but still in his' own opinion of infinito f||jj uso about th. houso and grounds, de- fw| clares proudly that he has only served fjjg two masters —Queen Victoria and Lord ||S| llanfurly! He has been in the service jffi|| of tho latter for twenty-seven years, laß and before that he was a soldier. We WB_ may ba progressing its the years go on, MM but the old times in Ireland, when tha |Jh_ Great House mothered and fathered the ■§___ lesser folk about its doors, and its sym- -§9| pa thy, charity, advice, and kindly feel- Mm ing were rewarded by passionate dovo- Wm tion and (.hole-hearted service, had JBB their advantages that have not been ffffl replaceel. There is much of this inter- ffp change of feeling existing still in Du__- fjffi gannou. itaßi