Faith's firm assurance makes all anguish light, With earth behind, and heaven fast opening on the sight. Yet souls that nearest come To their predestin'd gain, Pant more and more to reach their home: Delay is keenest pain To those that all but touch the wish'd-for shore, Where sin, and grief that comes of sin, shall fret no more. And O, for charity, And sweet remembrance' sake, These souls, to GOD so very nigh, Into your keeping take! Speed them by sacrifice and suffrage, where They were our friends erewhile, Co-heirs of saving grace; Companions in our race; We took sweet counsel in the House of GOD, And sought a common rest along a common road. And, had their brethren car'd To keep them just and pure, What if to fault of ours those pains be due, Alas! there are who weep In fierce unending flame, Through sin of those on earth that sleep, Or who, though they repent, too sadly know Thanks to our GOD who gives, In fruitful Mass or prayer, To many a friend that dies, yet lives, A salutary share; Nor stints our love, though cords of sense be riven, Nor bans from hope the soul that is not ripe for heaven. Feast of the holy Dead! Great Jubilee of grace! When Angel guards exulting lead To their predestin'd place Souls, that the Church shall loose from bonds to-day, In every clime that basks beneath her genial sway." SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, AND CO. STATIONERS' HALL COURT. BURNS, LAMBERT, AND OATES, 17, 18 PORTMAN ST., W. Ꮓ NOTICE. All Books and Publications intended for review in the MONTH should be sent to the Editor, at Messrs. Simpkin and Marshall's, Stationers'-Hall Court, Ludgate Street, E.C.; or at 50 South Street, Grosvenor Square, W. It is requested that Letters and Manuscripts may be sent to the latter address. The Editor cannot undertake to return rejected Communications. As some complaints have been made of unpunctual delivery of the MONTH, Subscribers in any part of Great Britain or Ireland are informed that they may receive it, post-free, on the day of publication, by sending their names to the Editor, at 50 South Street (as above), at the rate of 78. the half-year, or 6s. 6d. if paid in advance. Erratum in No. XV. Our readers are requested to correct for themselves a transposition of lines in p. 271, which, unlike most such accidents, almost makes sense, and so might escape notice. The line beginning "Butler" (the seventh) should be the sixth; the next line, the seventh; and that printed as the sixth, "a country parsonage," should be the eighth. 3 Boat-Voyage on the Coast of Kerry. BY CAPTAIN W. C. DE VERE, R.N. LEAVING A early in the morning, we went by train to Killarney, where we hired a car to take us the rest of our journey. The scenery through which we had to drive being, as you know, enchanting, I could not but wish that we had more time to devote to it. Our destination was Garinish, an island belonging to Lord Dunraven, of which I had heard much, and formed very high expectations, most certainly not to be disappointed. The road to it increased in beauty all the way; for very soon after bidding farewell to the beautiful lakes, embosomed amid their green hills, lofty mountains, and hanging woods of oak, arbutus, and pine, the glorious expanse of Kenmare Bay opened upon our view in the distance, from the valley of rocks and streams and wild heather-clad mountains. Every turn in the road brought into view some new and striking scene. Following a winding road, through valleys, and past mountains, woods, rocks, dark lakes, and wild torrents, we at length descended comparatively near to the shores of the bay; and then its whole expanse opened upon us with many a deep and wooded inlet, bold rocky promontory, and grassy island. Upon the opposite side the mountains rose in every variety of form, outline, and colour-from the near purple to the distant and hazy blue. And far, far away in the west there was the broad Atlantic, whose waves, uninterrupted for more than 3000 miles, washed the strand at our feet. It was indeed a heart-stirring sight, and it was with a feeling of exultation that I gazed upon it. After driving for some miles along the different bends of the bay, though not down on the shore, we came to a glen (where we got off the car and walked) called Blackwater, deep amid rocks and trees, through which a cascade was leaping and rushing. At one point it passed under a beautiful old stone bridge of two unequal arches (black with age, damp, and moss), foaming over large stones, whirling into deep quiet black pools, and winding at length to the sea, amid arbours of overhanging oak and feathery mountain-ash. Advancing amid ever-changing views of the distant mountains, -some with their peaks showing blue, clear, and distinct against the western sky, now reddening above the setting sun, and some hidden in mist, or with the rosy vapour wreathing round their heads,-we drove down to a little sheltered inlet on the coast; and there-but a narrow belt of clear blue water to cross-was the island of Garinish lying before us, with its green woods and heathy hills, its deep-blue sky and rocky promontories, and its golden shores; for the tide was out, and the seaweed was quite golden in colour. Rocking at our feet lay a boat with its crew of Kerry boys waiting for us. A few strokes of the oars and we had landed, and were at the end of our journey. It is no easy task to give a description of this little Paradise, but I must do my best. For its extent (about sixty acres) it is lovely beyond any thing I ever saw; an Eden of shady woods and ferny valleys, rocks, and hills. The whole island is a succession of ravines too numerous to count, each full of trees, flowers, and ferns; among many other representatives of which latter tribe the Osmunda regalis and the delicate graceful lady-fern reign supreme. Each ravine ends with its lovely bay of bright clear water sparkling on the sea-shore; the intervening hills rising abruptly on each side, covered with purple heather and bright gorse, and sprinkled with pines. In the vicinity of the house (a pretty gabled cottage) some of these valleys have been fashioned, without alteration of form or character, into gardens filled with roses and rhododendrons, white arums in profusion, and fuchsias of a size and luxuriance almost entitling them to the name of trees. All sorts of other beautiful plants and flowers abound here; but in such taste is all arranged that you do not feel as in a garden formed by man. You seem to have been transported to some lovely tropical island where Nature revels. The situation of the house, on a small craggy eminence near the east end of the island, is well chosen, commanding beautiful views of the Kenmare River, its lovely shores and numerous islands, none of which, however, can vie with this one. A winding walk through a grove of old ash-trees leads to a boathouse and a good pier jutting out into the picturesque and sheltered bay which forms the harbour of the island. Its banks are clothed with evergreens and shrubs, amongst which is the natural arbutus; whilst, gently wreathing all the growths together into lovely masses, are the wild honeysuckle and white convolvulus drooping their sprays into the rising tides. All throughout the island, which I have described as a maze of ravines and ridges, extends a labyrinth of walks; so that in its small extent one can traverse miles of ever-varying beauty. Here the walk is bounded by fuchsia hedges and beds of flowers; there with overhanging rocks and crags, covered with drooping ferns, from the |