THE CHARMS OF AN IRISH HOLIDAY.
TRELAND may be, from the point of view of mere worldly
prosperity, "a grand country to live out of" ; on the other hand, none but the most captious critics can deny that it is a very pleasant place to pay an occasional visit to or spend a holiday in. It labours, of course—though we are inclined to forget it in such summers as these—under the perpetual handicap of a humid climate. As a Kerry peasant once put it, "We're desthroyed wid the dint of the damp." That topsy-turvydom, so characteristic of Ireland and the Irish temper, displays itself in the relation of the barometer to the weather, and prompted the late Lord Dnnraven to embody his discontent in the following lines :—
"When the glass is up to thirty, Be sure the weather will be dirty. When the glass is high, 0 very ! There'll be rain in Cork and Kerry. When the glass is low, 0 Lork ! There'll be rain in Kerry and Cork !"
This disconcerting behaviour on the part of the barometer is certainly apt to become trying at times. On one occasion when it had remained as steady as a rock at " Fair " during two days of sea-mist, an impulsive friend of the writer's, finding it impervious to gentle tapping, lost her temper, and rapped it so severely as to break the glass. But on the other hand, patriotic Irishmen will declare that a fine day in Ireland is worth three fine days anywhere else. Irishmen, be it noted, are not ashamed to proclaim their belief in their superiority over all other comers. But there is generally something humorous about their self-assertiveness which robs it of arrogance; witness the Homeric vaunt of the Mun- sternsan in Mr. Fuller's song :—
"I'd back one man from Corkshire
To bate ten more from Yorkshire: Kerrymen Agin Derrymen,
And Munster agin Creation.
Wirrasthrue ! 'tis a pity we are n't a nation !"
The Englishman's belief in his greatness is so firmly rooted that he complacently tolerates the anti-English talk of his denationalised compatriots. But no Irishman will let another Irishman run down Ireland. To return, however, to the climate; at its worst it is not so rainy as that of the English Lakes. It is never aggravated by the discomforts born of great com- mercial development or prosperity—for Belfast is no more representative of Ireland than Bedford Park of London—fogs, smoke, smuts, and noise, and the congestion of bricks and mortar is a problem which has never presented itself to a country in which there is no city of more than three hundred thousand inhabitants, and only two of more than one hundred thousand. The absence of huge towns and crowds is a welcome relief to those who are obliged by force of circumstances to dwell therein for most of the year. There are no more apprecia- tive visitors to Ireland than those who hail from London, Liver- pool, or Manchester. Manchester folk, in particular, are not over-exacting in regard to sunshine, for, as a Frenchman once declared, "in Manchester it rains three times a day all the year round except during the winter, when it rains all day."
Commercial or material prosperity is not conducive to quiet or picturesqueness, and the fact that Ireland stands in regard to these two qualities—so greatly desiderated by the modern holiday-maker—much as she did twenty years ago is at once an evidence of her attractiveness and her poverty. It is not worth the while of enterprising merchants to desecrate the landscape with pill-boards—the Irish are too poor to indulge in the luxury of imaginary ailments—and seaside resorts are comparatively free from the devastating influence of nigger minstrels, and all the sophistications of the sea front. At the same time, the amenities of travelling, to which the railway companies and hotelkeepers of five-and-twenty years back paid but scant attention, have been brought into much closer harmony with the requirements of the tourist. The journey to Killarney from Dublin, which, in the memory of many people still under middle age, used to occupy nine hours, can now be accomplished in less than half that time, and such luxuries as corridor trains, restaurant-cars, and luncheon and tea baskets have been imported on the principal lines to mitigate the fatigues of railway travelling. Irish trains, in the mass, still leave room for considerable improvement. The rattle and clank and din suggest a much higher rate of speed than that actually attained, and the vagaries of Irish engine-drivers still give rise to a good many amusing stories. Father Healy, so one of these tales runs, once got into a carriage in which the only other passenger was a respectable middle- aged woman. Soon after they left the station, the train developed such an unusual speed that the good priest found it impossible to conceal his anxiety. Whereupon his fellow. passenger cheerfully administered consolation in the following terms : "Don't be onaisy, your riverence. Sure 'tis my son Jim that's driving the ingine, and when he has a drop taken, fair 'Us he that knows how to make her walk !" Another point about Irish trains should specially com- mend them to persons of a musical turn. They invariably run, so we have been assured, to the tune of "St. Patrick's Day." As for the general conduct of one's fellow-passengers, he must be a very patriotic Englishman who prefers the conversation of the average third-class passenger in his native country to that of the corresponding class in Ireland. You may see more rags, but you will hear less swearing or foul talk. Then as regards hotels, the improvement in Irish hostelries is so well known as to call for no further testimony. It is happily no longer possible for a traveller, on asking anywhere, "Which is the best hotel P" to provoke the reply given by a jarvey some years back : "Begorra, Sir, no matther which hotel you go to, you'll wish that you'd gone to the other ! " Golf, too, without which no holiday can now be deemed complete, can be had in excellent quality in most parts of the island. Your Irish caddie, it is true, does not always manifest that keen interest in your game displayed by his Scottish brethren. He has a way of running off to clean your clubs before you have " holed out" on the last green which disconcerts the serious golfer. But he is, as a rule, very willing and occasionally most entertaining. When a stranger on the links at Newcastle, Co. Down, asked his caddie, "What do they get round in here?" meaning what was considered a good score by a local player, the boy sententiously replied : "They tries to go round in as few as possible, but they mostly takes more."
Sir James Paget, in an admirable address on "Recreation" delivered several years ago, defined its chief element to be surprise. That is why a foreign trip is so much more stimulating than a tour at home, and, after all, Ireland, from the point of view of the normal Englishman, has many of the attributes of a foreign country. If. however, he is one of those who expect to find things done in exactly the same way as they are done in England, and are annoyed because they are not, then he had better stop at home. "You English," remarks a character in a clever Irish novel of recent date, are so d—d comparative ! " The "com- parative" Englishman will not be merely surprised by what be sees in Ireland, he will be in a constant state of wanting to write to the Times. He will be horrified to see people—aye, and policemen—bicycling on the footpaths. He will further notice that bicyclists never think of carrying a lamp, and are not prosecuted for the omission. He will find his gillie too emotional and excitable. He will be constantly disconcerted by eccentricities and irregularities of nomenclature. Thus an English tourist, in
conversation with the present writer, seemed really distressed at the want of logic shown in the inscription which he had just seen on the wall of a national school-house: "Male School," "Female School." "Why," be asked, "couldn't they say 'Boys' and ' Girls '? There isn't such a thing as a 'male school.'" Persons of this type are much happier out of Ireland, unless, indeed; they really derive enjoyment from perpetually finding things to criticise. Bat the genial tourist will be amused by these amiable and innocent eccentricities, while he is delighted by the inherent attrac- tions of the country. There is no better place for an over- worked man to take a holiday in than Ireland, where no one is in a hurry, where, even in moments of excitement, people's voices seldom grow shrill or strident, where they read so little that they have all the more time to cultivate the art of conversation, and where there are no home- grown 'Arries, pseudo-yachtsmen, or those rationally arrayed women who so greatly shocked Lord Salisbury's artistic lensibilities.
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