Every thing here is beautiful,—even the air, which is famed for its salubrity. There are no tormenting insects; for the bay is so deep, that the ebb leaves no muddy shore, and the constant gentle breeze of the valley is probably not agreeable to them. The climate is extremely equable, neither too hot nor too cold; and the vegetation so luxuriant, that only one thing more and one less are wanting to clothe the greater part of the bare mountains, and even the interstices between the rocks, with the richest and most beautiful woods: these two things are, planters, and goats. The former have no money, or none that they choose to spend in planting here; the latter suffer nothing to grow that is not enclosed within double walls. It appears that these mountains were formerly covered with forests; but the English, who have never had any other thought with regard to Ireland but how to draw as much money from her as possible, felled them all. Their remains are still visible in many places.
Another advantage of this spot is, to my taste at least, its perfect seclusion. It can hardly be reached in a carriage; and with the exception of a few curious travellers, like myself, no attempt is made to overcome the difficulty of the approach. It is inhabited by a good-natured people, not congregated in villages, but scattered in solitary dwellings amid the mountains, and living a patriarchal life, unspoiled by the tumult of cities. Nor are they so distressingly poor as in other parts of the country: their wants are few; turf for fuel they have for the fetching, grass for their cows in the bogs, and the sea supplies them with an abundance of fish far beyond what they can consume. For a landowner, inspired with a spirit of enterprize and a love of improvement, an inexhaustible field here presents itself. Were I a capitalist, this is the spot where I would settle.
My worthy host takes upon himself to forward this letter immediately. Heaven grant that it may find you in the same happy state of mind which has inspired it! Remember the favourite saying of my venerable ancestress,—‘Cœur content, grand talent.’
Your truly devoted,
L——.
LETTER XXXV.
Glengariff, October 4th, 1828.
Dear Julia,
To-morrow I set out, ‘et bien à regret.’ I carry with me a precious memorial,—one of the few perfectly delightful pictures which I have met with in my wanderings.