Our reverie ended in a mistake, for we unconsciously passed the point where we should turn to Gougane Barra, then the scene of a ceremony, half religious, half superstitious, as it has been during the autumn season from time immemorial.

People come great distances to perform "stations" on the ruins of a very ancient church on poor Callanan's "green little island." We were advised against returning, but told to seek shelter in a publichouse at a place called Ballingeary, on the banks of Lough Lua through which the infant Lee runs.

We found the house quite full, in consequence of a fair which was to be held the Monday following at Bantry.

We were accordingly refused; but we insisted on remaining in the house.

We had some milk and whisky, in which we asked the host to join us, and after one or two potations, he and his wife offered to give us their own bed and remain up.