1936 On the Continent

its tall round tower and the lordly sweep of the wide Shannon rolling past its grey walls.
    The Great Bell of Clonmachnois was sunk in the Shannon years ago, and the tale goes that it can be heard tolling as it rolls slowly in the flood far below. Who knows? It may toll “God speed” to the old salmon as they go down to the deep sea.
    There is great beauty in the open bog lands of central Ireland. Acres and acres of rough, rain-drifted and sunlit broken lands, lie, caught here and there with a gleam of silver from some lake, or vivid green of a hidden swamp. Golden bosses of gorse shine in the dark of the heaths, so that the whole bog looks like a bronze shield flung down under the open sky.
    The west of Ireland is the best beloved land of holiday makers. I was away camping there with a party of Irish friends when I was still a schoolgirl; we lived almost exclusively upon lobsters and tea and hot pan bread. None of us wore shoes, and with the Irish children we ranged up mountains and over rocks as free as the wind and about as irresponsible. As one of the Irish girls sosensibly remarked, if it rained too much we could always get into the sea and keep dry while they dried our clothes.
    I have been back to that wild wet country many times since, and the more I think of the happy days I’ve spent in Connemara the less am I knowing where to send you—for it’s all so beautiful.
    Leenane has good hotels and is a good district for touring the south-west and Joyces’ country. Renvyle is near the coast. Letterfrack and Inish Boffin an island near to Cleggan Bay, and those of the Roman Catholic faith will go up Croag Patrick. It is one of the most impressive sights to see the barefoot pilgrims pouring upwards towards the summit upon the yearly day of pilgrimage.
Islands of the West
    Achill Island has accommodation for visitors and the air there is wonderfully fine. There are real caves and sandy coves for bathing.
    The Mullet is less well known; it is a great centre for the French lobster trade, and on the Mullet lives one of the finest storytellers in Ireland. Ask for him.
    From here you must go on to Inisglora Isle. That belongs to St. Brendan, and it is a very marvellous isle, for no mouse or rat may live on it. And when they were taking over a sack of flour to the island a mouse jumped out and it was dead on its feet when it touched that blessed sand. So that believers carry back bags of the sand as an anti-mouse precaution.
    Good home spun tweeds may be obtained in the district and there are several other flourishing Irish industries.
The Isle of Aran
    To the south, the Isle of Aran needs no description, since O’Flaherty’s fine film put before people the grandeur of the stormy west coast. But do not be deterred from a visit by the wildness of the film; on part of the island visitors are very welcome. Hookers sail to and from the island with peat and groceries, and far south on the more inaccessible Blaskets the natives mourned sadly, “Sure
we
are as handsome as the men of Aran, but ‘tis they have the hotel!”
    Iarconnacht is the land of white rocks and dreamswhere the people still wear the white coats and full skirts of the west.
    It was from Galway Bay that St. Brendan sailed out, and curraghs and boats are part of the life of Galway.
    The Claddagh is beyond Galway; it is the old Irish town—unchanged for centuries. When Galway was a Norman city the Claddagh was its Irish town. It has many old customs, including the special Claddagh marriage and curious special ring of pure soft gold.
    Limerick and Tipperary are good centres for the Galty Mountains and the golden valley of Holycross Abbey and the Mitchelstown caves.
Killarney has Excellent Hotels
    Killarney and its lakes are too well known to need commending to the tourist, but the fine country beyond is less thoroughly explored. Here again Brandon’s Hill rises over the land and the magic of the sea is in the air.
    The Blaskets can be seen from the main land, and to those interested in antiquities, are worth a visit; but it is not always possible during the mists and storms of winter and (to the time of writing this) it is not possible to stay on the islands except in camp.
    The “tour” as the local guide books call the road around the peninsular and out to Dingle and Venty, is made possible by a fine coast road, but walkers should go on foot across the headlands or on ponies through the Gap of Dunloe. Walkers, too, may fight their way out to windy