JAUNTS ABOUT TYRONE

Press, Volume LXVI, Issue 13888, 12 November 1910, Page 7

JAUNTS ABOUT TYRONE

(By Mrs Malcolm Ross.) (WRITTEN' FOP. ''THK ) A motor ride about Dungannon »s fraught with exciting possibilities. To the. country folk a car is still a novelty, and they run to doors and windows to .see it passing, whilo numerous sinni; boys cluster about it in wild-eyed curiosity when it steps. The animate, too, are innocently tearless of the strange vehicle, and nil sorts oi crr-a---ture.s liave t-o V* chevied out of the way. Il.cn-, tcutier about, duck, w;s'ldlo leisurely in front, nnd dn<:;s and pigs seem to court instant and untidy death. Those in the motor endure

sconising moments until tho danger is plist: while a man besido the driver generally has to wave his arms and shriek wildly in order to clear his way. Often, the compensating shilling, m> matter how careful the driver may be, is- necessary, but. as a rule, the annuals escape scathless -with much flurry and ti:&s. Apart from the excitement, motoring: in Tyrone is full of _ fascination. Tho air, oven when it is raming, is exquisitely balmy, the ron.tLs, though somewhat uncertain as to quality, are picturesque, and tho people are interesting. They are weather- : beatrn. rugged, downright., with littlo ' ot the soft suavity of the- Southerner. Tho whitewashed cottages look comfortable—even ecvv, and often little gardens surround them, while clean curtains and iwt plants make many windows attractive. The mills, of course, give employment to many, and one morning wv wore shown over ono of tliivic. It was not unpieturesquo with its grey.stone veiled by ivy and the little stream running tsfirough tho ground, 'ilie various processes were most interesting. We had seen tho bundles of tlax lying in the fields after having heen taken from the water holes, where they are laid to rot off the green. Ever, if we had not tieon thorn, we should havo smelt them, for they have an eloquent odour, which, 1 was told, is quiti> relished after a time. Dirty, dark bundles they look, too, an extraordi--1 nary contrast to the deheato snowy I tiuen, which is made from them. Tnousands of people are employed m ine Dungannon null*, and earn good ' wages. A number of the workers were I quite old , whi to-haired women, but I the.so are experts in their own line, i ami though it seams hard to work at I sue.h an nge, they would probably die were the regular routine disturbed. Not many beautiful girls wero to Ik> I seen, though a number had wonderful 1 auburn or yellow hair. But it is in the i South of Ireland where tho blackhaired, blue-eyed loveliness is plentiful, and alter all, these northerners are I Scotch. To this, prooably, they owe I their greater prosperity and indopendI ence. Nowhere, on our outings, did I *>co the typical broken-down cabin of the. Irish "hovel, witli tho pig in possession. Indeed, many of one's ideas have to be jettisoned when one visits Ireland. A ride on a jaunting-car, however, proved to be all, and more, jmy fancy painted it, and but for timely i warnings I should inevitably havo been j ehot oh at tho iirst corner which our ! driver took jauntily on one wheel. After a few minutes of unorthodox clinging to any fixed safeguard, 1 found it quite exhilarating, and was able to enjoy the skilful way we threaded through the whirl of traffic in tho Belfast streets.

The most wonderful memory I have of Tyrone is Benburb Castle. Wo-rt-ached it ono afternoon—a day of brilliant sunshine alternating with lowering clouds. The picturesque rums, grey, mouldering and. hung with ivy, crowned a limestone cliS that rase sheer from a great sweep of tho Blackwater River. Woods and turf bordered the water on the otiver .side, and, fortunately, tho later-doy house, very modern and unromantic, was hidden among tho trees. It is historic ground there, and though, in the calm afternoon sunshine, with no sounds save the song of the birds and tho murmur of the river, it now looks so peaceful it has bee_n tho scene of tragic happenings. At the end of the 16th century tho English met with a deadly repulse there, and many gallant horsemen perished in the concealed pits digged for their downfall by -their wily foes. Later, when O'Neill built the castlo, there was a great battle, in which the Irish were again the victors. Tho river was so choked with tho bodies of the flying British that it was possible to walk across it, and later on when, as was the cruel custom, tho dead were stripped of clothes and accoutrements, tho naked corpses, says an old chronicler, "were aiar off like a herd of small cattle." Under tho ruins are deep dungeons that could tell terrible tales of suffering. Now the. only ! slaughter that takes place in the lovely valley is that of tho eaheon that lurk under the green banks or leap in. tho peaceful reaches. Viscount Charleroont, Lady Ranfurl/s father, owns much property in Tyrone, and, though lie is up in years, is etill a handsome*, stately man, keen and energetic. Hb lives 'mainly at Drumcairno his beautiful property on the shores of Lough Neagh—of " whose lovely waters v.c I caught fleeting glimpses from the woods jin Dimgannon Park. The original Coney Island is in this lough, and is owned by Lord Charlcmont, who lias built a" charming summer residenco there. The tiny island was visited, tradition says, by St. Patrick, and is the setting'of a quaint romance in which a lady doctor figures. She lived in a lonely' cell on the mainland, but, failing to cure a wounded O'Neill chief, was carried off 1)y his followers and forced to live on Coney Island. There sho continued her t pr<>fossion. apparently with success, for the ruins of a tower in her memory are still pointed out. Conoy Island near New York was called after this isle by some emigrants from Tyrone, and a greater contrnst between the nnromantic bustle and noise of the one and the peaceful loveliness of the other cannot be imagined. In Tudor times : Coney Island liwame a penal settle- I ment, and many executions of rebels took place on a mound that still is j I shown, although now the kindly woods have almost hidden it. From the j island, on a clear day. all that remains of O'Connor's stronghold, a ruined tower on Drrrywarra Island, can he Eoeii. The delicate blue outline of the I Mow mo Mountains, <hr> Belfast Hill?. 1 Dunganiion clustering about: it". wiio<l"d castlo-rrosted rise, the mountain:, of Slamish, where St. Patrick tended his sheep—all can bo seen from Coney J Island. The lake itself is said to have j had a fabulous origin, springing from a magic well which a woman—another case of "eherchez le femme"—left uncovero'3. defying the threat that, if itwore left uncovered, it would drown the land. Still, it is said, steeples and ror.ncl towers may be seen, ou calm days, under the water.

Roxboro Castle, a splendid place, surrounded by lovely woods and gardens, is another property of Lord Charlemont, situated near Moy, where the great horse- and cattle- show is held every month. Some idea of its magnitude, can bo gained by tho fact that, though there is stabling for 2000 horses in the town, its resources are often strained.

To Armagh we motored ono afternoon, and visited the old, grey cathedral that crowns the highest hill in the town, though its supremacy is threatened by tho fine now Catholic Church close" hy, on which an enormous amount of money is being spfut. St. Patrick founded Armagh, and built the original cathedral. l»it s oi which, including the old bell, are still preserved inside the later erection. Hen*, too, Brian Boru —who has not heard of him? —was buried when he- and his son fell on the battlefield. Not so Ion '4 ago when the neighbouring great families lived more in Ireland, and London with its gaieties was too far away to visit often, they had their town houses in Armagh, and tho old city saw many a brilliant season. In those good days it ranked next to D.iblin. Now, the fine old houses, large and iinsly decorated, have fallen on evil days, and are shabby and dirty, and given up to poor tenants with' a multiplicity of children. The Primate of All Ireland, Bishop Alexander, a relation of Lord Ranfurly, lives at Armagh, in a quaint, flat-i'iiecd Georgian iiou&o set in a charming park, where are the picturesque ruins of an old monastery. We found' the old who, though over ninety, is charmingly vivacious and courteous, sitting by the firo in hi.s beautiful drawing-room, which was a perfect lxiwor o! sweet-peas. Outside in th t . la.rr.it' square hall his portrait hunsj fide by side with those of his predecessors in office, and on the great stained glass doors the clear space was

waiting for lus eoat?f-*rme to be minted when tho night fell on his most waceful eventide. A delightful little "vilhmo not far Iroai D«ngannon is Dona-'limore. which, by the way. dates back iw tho fifth ««*««* and at one time held an abbey founded by St. Patrick. Of tins, only tho beautiful cross, wonderfully little the worse for wear, remains, and it lias been set no where the village street forks and mercies into tho hedgerows and fences, which here, as for miles about Dungannon. are broken by the great iron gates w , " l tbe H centring the bars. Tho drowsy antiqxnty ot Donaghmore, a hunvlred years ago was. roused by an energetic "manutacturer. A brewer was tho lirst Prince Charming that tvoke tho Sleeping Beauty, and now soap is its staple industry.*' "Who has not heard of McClinton s soap? The inhabitants of the Irish village in the Wbito City havo come from Donaghmore, sent by the soap manufacturers who promoted this potent attraction to the exhibition. Ono wet afternoon-when the mists were blurring all the loveliness of the woods, where chestnuts, beeches, and limes were all too quickly flushing into orange and crimson, f was shown some of tho treasures of Dungannon House —only a few of the beautiful, curious, and valuable things with which the place is filied. Among the many priceless things is a set of Venetian point bedroom hangings and covers. These comprise the entire furniture for a largo tester bed. including curtains, coverlet, tho great design for the back, and tho smaller wreaths for the vallances. Then Caere is the lace for tho chair-backed seaks —imagine coming in from a wet walk and sitting on such delicate needlework! —besides a quantity of. other wreaths, motifs, and .sprays whoso meaning amid only he surmised. Each scrap is sewn, with infinite pains and tiny stitches, on immense sheets of lino linen, each part in its proper place to I form the design intended. Probably satin was to form the background of this exquisite lace. Such a quantity was there of it that the sheets, when folded, made a goodly pile, and .when ono remembers that a mere scrap of Venetian point is costly, this.must bo priceless. It has a history, too, for it belongs to Mary of Modena, and was, perhaps, part of her wedding-dower when she came to England to be queen. She left it behind when she fled to France, and it was probably sold vrilh other Royal effects by those who did not love the Stuart Kings.