too much time, besides bringing them
farther out of their way than it was his (M'Carthy's) intention to go.

"You know, Mogue," he observed, "I am to dine with Mr. Purcel to-day,
and, if we go so far, I shall never be home in time for dinner."

[Illustration: PAGE 421-- Just trust yourself to me]

"Never mind, sir," replied his companion, "you don't know all the short
cuts of Sloebeens as well as I do. My life for yours, I'll take care
that you won't want your dinner or your supper aither, sir, I'll go
bail. Just trust yourself to me, and if I don't bring you to where the
grouse, snipes, and hares is in thousands, never put faith in me again."

M'Carthy, who had every confidence in Mogue, and, also, more than
usual respect for him, in consequence of his apparent love of truth
and religion, accompanied him without the slightest hesitation; feeling
satisfied that his intimate acquaintance with the whole wild locality
around them, was a proof that he would be able to keep his word.

The scenery of those mountains, though wild, as we have said, is,
nevertheless, remarkable for that poetic spirit of beauty which our
learned and accomplished countryman, Dr. Petrie, infused, with such
delightful effect, into his landscapes. Even the long stretches of level
moor, which lie between the hill ranges, present in summer that air of
warm repose which the mind recognizes as constituting a strong element
of beauty; but it is at evening, when the crimson sun pours a flood of
golden light upon their sides and tops, turning the rich flowery heath
with which they are covered into hues of deep purple, that the eye
delights to rest upon them. Nor is the wild charm of solitude to be
forgotten in alluding to the character of these soft and gracefully
undulating mountains. Indeed we scarcely knew anything more replete with
those dream-like impressions of picturesque romance which, in a spirit
so perfectly solitary, sleep, still and solemn, far from the on-goings
of busy life, in the distant recesses of these barren solitudes. Many a
time when young have we made our summer journey across the brown hills,
which lay between us and the mountains we are describing, for the
express purpose of dreaming away whole hours in their contemplation, and
steeping our early imagination in the wild and novel beauty which our
heart told us the spirit of solitude had impressed upon them.

How far our sportsmen proceeded, or in, what precise direction, we
ar