LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume V, Issue 574, 21 April 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE HAUNTED LIGHTHOUSE. Tt is now two years ago that I, having procured a month's leave from my regiment, spent the time with some friends in the North of Ireland.. I had been stationed at Leeds, and really needed pure air after the smoke and smell of that stronghold of wool.

It was the iirst week in October, and splendid weather —the sort of after-summer which sometimes tries to cheat lis into the belief that snow-storms and cutting winds are things of the past, quite out of fashion, and the late Irish harvest was yet standing in many of the fields as my hired car conveyed me through the mountainous region lying between the railway terminusjaud the sea.

A terrible long drive it was, and a very solitary one ; we soon left all signs of fields and harvest behind us, ami entered a district wholly covered by heather, rocks, and

Water. Unluckily my coachman—or 'driver,' as he would have called himself—was of a taciturn and sulky disposition; and it was in vain that I tried, by my own eloquence and all the blandishments in my power, to i rouse in him any signs of the Irish wit and humour of which I had so often heard, and read of in the fascinating pages of my favourite Charles Lever. It was no use ; and I gave up the attempt in disgust. He did indeed tell me the names of one or two tumble-down hamlets through which we passed; and one or two of the beautiful mountains and lakes which attracted my notice he called by some barbarous designation which I could neither pronounce nor remember; but beyond this not one word could I get from him. So, giving up my investigations as to Irish character for the present, I resigned myself to my fate. Once, indeed, the fellow provoked me to the very verge of my patience. Just as we turned a sharp corner round a spur of the hill a fine covey of grouse, numbering some six or seven birds, rose from the heath beside the road. They pettled, just in a similar position, about half a mile ahead of us, and again as we approached they got up within pistol-shot. My new breech-loading fowlingpiece was behind me, and 1 looked longingly towards it ; in my father's preserves amongst the woods of the Midland Counties I had blazed away at pheasants and hares, rabbits and partridges, but never yet had I had a chance at a grouse. Perhaps the promise of unlimited mountain shooting had been the chief attraction which my friend's invitation to Ireland had held forth. I was consoling myself under the ' tantalisation' of having twice put up the birds at so tempting a distance, when my Jehu said laconically : ' It appears your honour don't take kindly to the shooting.' ' What makes you think so ?' I demanded. ' It's like as though the creatures wanted a shot, for they gave ye chance enough, sure !' 'But what right have I to shoot on a stranger's property ?' I rejoined ; ' I suppose this country belongs to somebody.' ' Ay, that's what it does ; but the Marcus doesn't mind a body taking a fling at the birds. He isn't the man for to claim God's wild things as his own in the face of nature.' ' The Marcus ?' I repeated inquiringly. ' Ah, the Marcus C . He lives over at England. Does not your honour know him?'

On my confessing that I had never seen the Marquis in question, and begging for more information concerning him and his version of the game laws, my friend resumed his taciturnity (if he could have been said to have abandoned it), and only replied that if I didn't know the Marcus, neither did he, that was sure. And when I asked why on earth he didn't tell me I might blaze at the birds while there was yet time to load my gun, he said dryly that he supposed I knew my own business best, and that it wasn't for the likes of him to dictate to a gentleman. If I didn't punch his head tliat minute it was not for want of inclination.

Up and down the most frightful hills, beside the most desolate tarns, or along the mad course of sherry-colored streams, our road wound. Mile after mile on that torturing instrument ycleped a 'jaunting-car,' until I verily thought some spell of the witch of the mountains had been cast over me, and that my journey would never end. But just as the short October day approached its close our horses (harnessed tandem fashion) painfully climbed to the top of the last steep ridge, and there, spread out before us, I saw at last the end of my pilgrimage, the noble isle of Innismore (Kig island), lying bathed in the sunset radiance upon what seemed in truth a ' golden sea.' Four miles long, and in one part fully three in breadth; its heathery uplands promised me ample compensation for my lost chance at the grouse. In a general way I have no very enthusiastic love for scenery, nature, and all that sort of thing, yet Innismore so stirred m" admiration that I could not help considering my friend Charley Denham a lucky fellow in being its sole possessor apart from the money value which those brown acres could represent. Innismore is a sea-girt mountain, for its centre rtashes a considerable height; towards the south the land slopes gently to the water, and a rude pier makes a sort of harbour, in which a few fishing boats lie at anchor; but on the nc rth and west the ground breaks suddenly off, with cliffs standing more than a thousand fett perpendicularly, opposing their huge wall to the rush and beat of the waves ; and on the most distant point, where this wall rose to its most dizzy elevation, I noticed the white buildings of a, lighthouse—the lighthouse which was. to play an important part in my Irish sojourn. It took one half an hour to reach the shore, an 1 !! yet another before I had dismissed my Jehu and seen my luggage deposited in a gaily painted yawl which was lying at the quay.

' The master himself is here, yer hannar/ said one of the.crew, palling his forelock and scraping his foot in true sailor jjashion as he spoke ;."' but we did not know to the exact minute what time ye'd arrive, so he has jest dandered (wandered") off somewheres.' A hearty shout behind made me stare, and Qharley himself, his ' danderings' come to an end, bade me a warm welcome to Innismore. Four pairs of brawny arms sent the boat slipping through the sea, notwithstanding that an adverse tide was running strongly in our teeth, and our sails, although set, sapp,ed idly against the mast, for 'there wasn't wind enough to fan a flea,' as one of the men remarked sotto voce. ' The ladies intended to come and meet you, my dear fellow,' said Denham presently, ( only the time of your Port Kelly was so uncertain that there seemed some chance of having to wait until midnight, and I strongly advised their remaining be hind.'

' The ladies !' I echoed aghast, thinking of the scanty selection I had made from my wardrobe, fitted only for a shooting excursion in the wilds ; ' you never told me there were ladies in the question.' (2b be continued)