HOME SKETCHES,

&c.

CHAPTER I.

Visit to Mont Mellerie, the Trappist establishment, near Cappoquin-Scenery of the Cove of Cork-Anecdotes of the peasantry-Advantages of confession.

Lismore, Thursday.-To-day we made an excursion to visit Mont Mellerie, the establishment of Trappist monks. The road to it from this place is along the left bank of the Blackwater, amid lovely scenery, as far as Cappoquin. There we left our comfortable carriage, and mounted a jaunting car, which proved as rough as any of our old friends that jolted us over the Kerry mountains in our last tour; but the violent shaking,

and the still more violent shower of rain we encountered on approaching the bleak range of Knockmeldown mountains, were amply compensated by our visit to the interesting convent. The first part of the road winds up the sides of a finely wooded glen; a clear stream rushes along far below; and the ruins of an old castle, which are situated on the summit of a precipitous rock on the other side, forms a beautiful object in the landscape. A turn in the road took us out of sight of the wood and glen, and brought more fully to view the mountainous and bleak region where the convent is placed, and which, till within a few years, was perfectly wild and uncultivated. Dark masses of clouds were blown along by the high wind, and cast deep shadows over the stern mountains; but soon a single ray of brilliant sunshine crossed the middle distance, lighting up the white towers of the monastery, and defining their outline sharply against the purple mountains behind. The sketch I endeavoured to make of the scene is at the beginning of this volume.

The crops, enclosures, and planting of this extraordinary establishment are truly wonder

ful, when we consider that seven years ago it was a wild mountain. Our wonder encreased when we approached the buildings. They are of great extent, and though not finished, are advancing rapidly towards completion.

We were told that the change of habits in the population of this mountain district, since the establishment of the Trappists, is very remarkable. It was a notoriously lawless neighbourhood, where outlaws and stolen sheep were sure to be found. Now nothing can be more peaceable.

The results of labour, judiciously applied, must also be of immense advantage, and the system of the establishment ensures this application. The works of each department are directed by clever men, who by study become informed of all the recent discoveries, and are enabled thus to give the best instruction.

We were very courteously received by the superior, who showed us all over the establishment. He has a most benevolent countenance, full of christian humility, yet quite devoid of

that cringing and servile expression I have sometimes remarked in Italian monks.

He first took us through the garden, where the only flowers they have yet cultivated were blooming over the few graves of the deceased brethren. The sun was shining upon them, and upon the painted glass window of the chapel near. I was struck with the idea that these poor men must enjoy a more firm conviction of future bliss than most people. Their own daily fare is hard, and apparently miserable. No luxury, no ornament of any kind, is visible in those parts of the building in which they dwell. The garden, too, only contains common vegetables for their use; but the church is highly decorated. They expend all their money, all their ingenuity, in embellishing the temple of the God they serve; and they cause flowers to bloom on the graves of those who are gone, as if to shew that real bliss can only be found in a hereafter.

There are about seventy monks in the establishment, all English and Irish. They were invited to return to France, but refused. Some

of them were men of rank and fortune; but once a brother, all distinction ceases. Their dress is a white cloth robe, over it a black cape, with long ends reaching before nearly to the feet, and a pointed hood of the same dark hue. The effect of these singularly attired and silent beings, in the carpenter's shop, where seven or eight were at work, was very striking; it seemed almost as if we were visiting another world and another race.

They

Strict silence towards each other is observed, and their mode of life is very severe. rise at two o'clock every morning, both summer and winter, yet they do not partake of their first meal until eleven o'clock. They never eat meat or eggs, and have only two meals in the day. The second is at six, and we saw what was preparing for it-brown bread, stir-about and potatoes. The latter are boiled by steam, and a prayer is said by the monks just before they are turned out of the huge boiler, and carried in wooden bowls to the refectory. We also visited their dairy, where they make the best butter in the neighbourhood, by a peculiar method, in