CHAP. XI. Like travellers, journeying side by side, At length arrived where branching roads They linger long, each slow to part Too late and much too shortly known ; Just felt, and then, for ever flown. E'en thus, our Wicklow ramble o'er, Some kindred reader may deplore From GREGORY GREENDRAKE loath to sever, WE intimated in our last that the present chapter would terminate the county Wicklow excursion of our intelligent and amusing angler, and bring him back to the Irish metropolis. In the above lines, we have paid to him the tribute of our conviction, that he has afforded pleasure to his readers, and that they will part from him with regret. We would not venture to say so much of ourselves, and when our readers recollect how we accounted for the aid afforded to our columns by the pen of Mr. GREENDRAKE, they will fully acquit us of egotism, and the want of modesty, vices but too common to us gentry, who deal so largely in the plural we. But lest we might appear a satirical or reproachful exception to the rest of our tribe, whom really we are not disposed to offend, even though they were not armed with stings, we do say, that our introductory verses afford a good text for the moralist. Who is there that sometime or other has not met by chance with a sort of moral counterpart; from whom he has separated with regret, whom he has never again seen, and whom neither time nor circumstance could wholly eradicate from his memory. In a stage coach-a packet boat-the play-house-the very street or high road, one may meet with a disposition so attuned to their own, that the contact may produce a moral vibration, long, very long surviving the touch that gave it birth. Thus are the chains that tie the hidden soul of harmony' often untwisted by the hand of chance, which, as though in mockery of the sympathy it awakens, leaves it ever after in solitary and disappointed existence. In this way we may, probably, account for a great deal of discontent, apparently strange assumption of manner, and inconsistent application of mental powers. The latent passion has been roused by the accidental touch of a kindred spirit, and has ever after been wandering beyond the sphere prescribed to it by the unfavourable circumstances of social dependency-even the paradox of a voluntary old maid (with great respect we utter the forbidden term) may be referred to, and reconciled by the same principle. Once in her life, and by chance, she may have met, no matter how or where, with him who, on some occasion, perceptible only to herself, touched the point of sympathetic harmony: from that moment he is the model of human perfection-he becomes the beau ideal of conjunctive happiness, and, if there be not such another man in the world, (as it is said there are not any two things existing exactly alike) she never can be mated, and of course, lives and dies in "single blessedness." But we feel that it is forbidden to us to enter too deeply into this matter; it is a thing dangerous to play with, even on the surface; in short, it is a ticklish subject. With respect to our common friend, GREGORY, his re-appearance on the scene is wholly contingent. We confess that the treasures which he lent us are not yet exhausted; nay, more, they are still more abundant. We have his excursions to the lakes in the counties of Westmeath and Cavan, where he shews himself the scientific angler, as well as amusing observer; we have the records of his sport and his observations on Lough Neagh and Lough Erne; the rivers Nore, Barrow, Suir, and Shannon; and, passing over numerous intermediate streams and their associated scenery, we have, in grand review, despite of Weld, or other preoccupiers of the subject, the lake of Killarney, alt which depend on the existence of THE WARDer, whether or not they shall ever see the light. According to the estimate of human vanity, not only our cotemporary public, but posterity, to its remotest times, will sustain incalculable loss, if THE WARDER shall not be upheld and encouraged to pour forth all the treasures of its originality and genius. THE DARGLE. "I have already brought you through so many of the glens of this picturesque county, that little of novel character remains for the pen of description. The Dargle, however, differs, in some striking respects, from those I had previously visited. The hills forming the glen are equally and richly wooded on both sides, and the road, or paths through it, lie either on the summit, or wind along the side of the hill, thus affording more commanding and diverse views, while in most parts the hills, closing at their bases, scarcely afford a passage for the troubled torrent that works its foaming way through banks and masses of rock, and which, generally, is rather heard than seen, thus receiving from the imagination the terrors and sublimity of an abyss, whose depth, consequent of the intervening foliage, we cannot penetrate, but whose roaring waters convey to us the ideas of danger and profundity. "As the visitor proceeds, he is sometimes enveloped in shade, principally of oak, and sometimes arrives at points which present to his delighted view lines of wavy wood and undulating water; the distant mountains, ornamented demesnes, cultivated farms, and the sea merging in the distant line of the horizon. These points of view are principally the Lover's Leap, and the Burnt Rock. The first of these is a perpendicular rock of great height, battlemented at top with masonry, and at a distance has the appearance of an ancient grey tower rising from the bosom of the wood; to look down from it, one is strongly impressed with one of its resemblances to the Lueadian rock, and such as would afford, to any Irish Sapho, as ready and efficient a cure for disappointed passion. On a corresponding angle of the opposite hill, a very pretty cottage, one of the ornaments of Mr. Grattan's side of the Dargle, forms a pleasing object, and from it, again, the rock of the Lover's Leap presents a striking and picturesque appearance, when surmounted by animate objects and the assisting display of attitude and drapery. The shout and holla of parties separated by the devious and tangled paths, the bursts of joyous laughter from the cave-enfranchised heart, and, occasionally, the mellow tones of the flute and horn, rise upon the breeze, and mingle their happier and more varied sounds with the monotonous murmurs of the stream beneath. From the Burnt Rock, is perhaps, the most pleasing and extensive view in the Dargle. "Not far from the gate, at which we entered, the path declining from the main avenue to the left, leads to a little platform, on which is erected a rural seat, roofed in, and called the moss-house; the tiled floor, wooden uprights, and seats of which, are as closely covered with initials of names, and commemoration inscriptions, as the walls and ceiling of Shakespeare's apartment at Stratford on Avon. This spot is generally that chosen by parties wherein to enjoy their collations, and is taken possession of by the first arrivals. I should prefer a spot commanding a more extensive view, and less within the influence of the noise of the waters, which is here very great. This scene is peculiarly effective and distinct in its character. Im |