orgiveness. And even the proud Peggy was so
affected that she fell upon her knees and asked pardon of God, of her
husband and his father, for her undutiful conduct. For his part, the
good old man forgave her at once. I need hardly say that he never went
on the road; for, from that hour, Peggy was a better and gentler woman,
and tried hard to make her house a happy home for her father-in-law,
and so, for all her family. To be sure, her besetting sins--pride and
temper--would break out once in a while, but God was stronger than
either; she prayed to Him, and He gave her strength to get the better
of them at last.

Grandfather Walsh lived in comfort and content several years, and on
his peaceful death-bed, blessed his son and daughter, and their
children, very solemnly and lovingly. When all thought that he was
gone, little Andy, who had been very quiet till then, began to cry
aloud. The good old man, whose soul was just at the gates of heaven,
heard him, opened his eyes, reached out his hand, and blessed his
darling once more. Then he died.

Wicklow.

TIM O'DALY AND THE CLERICAUNE

After leaving Limerick, we returned to Dublin, and there took a
carriage, for a little tour in the neighboring county of Wicklow.

Wicklow has been called "The Garden of Ireland," for the beauty of its
scenery and the high cultivation of a large portion of its lands. It
is full of romantic valleys and streams, lakes, glens, and
waterfalls--varied by rugged, untamable wilds, and bleak, barren
mountains.

We first visited "the Dargle," or Glenislorane River, upon Lord
Powerscourt's domain. This would be thought "a small specimen" of a
river with us, as, except when the waters are swollen with a freshet,
it is but a narrow and shallow mountain stream. But in Ireland it
passes at such times for a mighty torrent, and at all times is greatly
admired and respected.

It runs very rapidly, with bright sparkles and pleasant murmurs, down a
deep rocky ravine, whose jagged sides are overgrown with moss and
ferns, and overhung with luxuriant foliage.

A path leads up the glen to the waterfall. This is considered by the
people here a sublime and magnificent cataract, and it is very fine in
its way, and abundantly makes up in beauty for what it lacks in
awfulness; it is a charming thing to look at, and listen to, and ramble
about; and though it does not thunder and plunge and roar, like
Niagara, it glads the hearts of all who behol