I met with Napper Tandy, and he tuk me by the hand,
And he said, ‘And how’s ould Ireland and how does she stand?’
She’s the most distressful country that ever yet was seen,
For they’re hangin’ men and women for the wearin’ o’ the green.”
When he had finished I said:
“Mike, an Irishman could not sing that any better than you.”
“An Irishwoman could, though,” said Mike, and then he continued, “You ought to have heard Edith sing that very song as we were flying over Dublin. I thought I was in heaven, and was hearing the angels sing.”
“When you landed after that trip you both looked as though you had been in the seventh heaven,” I answered.
Just then we sighted the rock of Cashel, and our thoughts were turned into other channels. Cashel, like Tara, is only a memory. Formerly it was a place of the greatest importance all over the south of Ireland. Now it is an unimportant village. The famous rock of Cashel still stands, crowned with the ruins of the old Cathedral, King Cormac’s Chapel, and a Round Tower. This celebrated rock is a mass of limestone, rising steeply out of the plain to the height of 300 feet. Here formerly the Kings of Munster were crowned, and here, in 1172, Henry II. was declared King of Ireland. St. Patrick preached at Cashel when it was a Royal Court.
We circled the Rock twice to the utter amazement of the inhabitants of the village. I doubt if we made more stir anywhere than in Cashel.