Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 231, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 October 1917 — BY OUTSIE CAR TO BLARNEY CASTLE [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

BY OUTSIE CAR TO BLARNEY CASTLE

WHENEVER you make the trip out from Cork, Ireland, to Blarney Castle, be sure to turn a cold shoulder upon the modern tramway and upon the motor car. The only way to go Is by the “outside car,” or Jaunting car, for this Is so entirely Irish. Up you will clamber to the rather rickety step of the car, thence to the swinging platform for the feet, upon which you must maneuver in some way to turn about and take your seat. Probably you and your neighbor—if you have one oh your aide of- the car—will laugh a great deal and clutch each other excitedly; if you have the seat to yourself, you must curl one knee up before you, In somewhat the way a woman does in riding sidesaddle, brace yourself against the iron end to the seat and cling tightly. There’s a knack in riding on an outside car which it needs a little time to acquire. But, no matter, you are off —swinging around corners and Jolting over the cobblestones, through the city, across a river and out into the sweet green valley of the Lee which leads to the village of Blarney. If it is spring, the trees are all daintily, flufflly pale green, the yellow primroses are beginning to show themselves qnd, perhaps, there is here and there a hedge of brilliant golden gorse. Birds are singing all around you, too, and the river ripples gently over its stones; but the probabilities are that your driver will talk so mu.ch that you will not hear the music of the river. He will tell you all about how it was Cormac MacCarthy, back In the fifteenth century, who built Blarney castle; and how, although the place now belongs to a local landowner, all the MacCarthys of the countryside still

feel that they own the place and are certain that It will one day come back into the hands of the family. Every MacCarthy who plows a field, within sight of the old jagged keep of Blarney castle, looks up at it with pride ahd a sense of rightful ownership. Kissing the Blarney Stone. Of course, everyone knows that he who kisses the, Blarney stone is supposed to gain the gift of eloquence. The legend goes that the original Corinac McCarthy the Strong one day rescued a woman from the lake; and this woman was so grateful that she offered, by way of showing her thanks, to give Cormac a golden tongue. But, she made one condition; In order to get It, he must kiss a particular stone, five feet below the top of the parapet of Blarney Castle. Naturally, Cormac leaped up the winding steps of the keep, two steps at a time, ran around the path which encircled the Inner court, lowered himself to where he could reach the stone which the woman had indicated, and hastily kissed it. Presumably he was afterwards possessed of marvelous eloquence, and this is the reason why all other visitors to Blarney have wanted to kiss that stone, too —if they are both daring and steady-headed. For this feat is not altogether an easy one. But, by this time, your driver has put you down by the little Blarney railway station, bidding you cross the tracks and take a path through the woods, close by a tiny stream. In a few moments you come out into] an open field, where, sure enough, a MacCarthy is hoeing the rows; and there, before you, looms the great keep of Blarney Castle. The keep Is practically all that remains today, though around its foot there huddle numerous .crumbling walls and archways, which show that there were other buildings, too. - Not far away is Blarney Lake, about which the man hoeing the rows tells you a curious story. "Two o’ thegentry,” he is saying, “war one while jlst afther discussin’ how deep was Blarney Lake. Wan o* thlm said it was bottomless, an’ the other wea he allowed how that was noways possible at all. So they agreed they’d slnd down two divers. This thing they done prislntly, the gentry thimselves a-standln’ by the lakeside and awatchln’. Down wint them divers, but they nlver come up at all; and, though the gentry kipt a-watchin’ and a-waltin’, nlver did they see thim divers again. But, afther eight weeks it was, they had a letter from thim, and they wasdtrAustralia. They were SO I” Up on the Castle. ' And so you leave the MacCarthy, so

full of wonderful and mysterious tales, and wend your way to the castle. You take your time climbing the spiral, uneven stone steps of the .keep, for they are very steep and long. But, at last, you reach the top and stop to look east, west, north and south, at the charming views; little green and brown fields, marked off by hedges, dark clumps of woodland, here and there a sparkling blue lake or a dazzling clump of gorse. But you soon hear stifled shrieks and exclamations from the other side of the parapet, so you make your way to the spot. Yes, there someone is about to kiss the Blarney stone. A big stalwart youth is lying down upon his back, his head towards a square opening in the outer wall of the parapet; another strong youth, perhaps two of them, sit down upon his feet, so as to hold them firmly. Then the seeker after eloquence grasps an Iron bar, placed in position for this purpose, swings himself down through the opening in the parapet referred to, pulls himself up again on the outside, and just manages to kiss the surface of the Blarney Stone; then, being strong and lithe, he jerks fils head back in again and suddenly he is again sitting up on the floor of the parapet and the others boys are letting go of his feet. It wasn’t so hard to do after all, you think; at least, not if you are a strong young boy who does not mind looking down all those giddy feet to the trees growing against the foot of the keep. But, doubtless, you are wise enough to content yourself with watching others kiss the Blarney Stone and with buying a post card showing the famous stone, with its Latin inscription, “Cormac MacCarthy Fortis Me Fieri Fecit, A. D. 1446,” which, translated in Irish, means “Cormac Macarthy, bould as bricks, Made me in Fourteen Forty-six.” Really, ,you know, it does not pay to’go to the trouble of kissing the stone, for it may even not be the Identical one which Cormac MacCarthy the Strong knew. Many people insist that that stone was long ago removed from its position, that this is not the genuine stone at all ; at any rate, it seems that the stone once fell from its place. Probably it is as well to acquire eloquence in some other way.

Blarney Castle.