When I reached Limerick I was informed that the train for Mallow, which I ought to take, would not leave for another hour. I profited by this delay to visit the town. My guide-book--_Black’s Picturesque Tourist in Ireland_--which I had consulted on my way, told me that the town now contains 38,000 inhabitants; it is renowned for its bacon; that formerly it contained manufactories of gloves, and some large tanyards. Now, it seems that these industries have disappeared, or are rapidly declining. Limerick bacon is inferior to Chicago; scarcely any gloves are now made; and if they still prepare leather, it cannot be for the boots of the inhabitants, for only the men wear shoes--and what shoes! All the women and children I have met wisely and economically content themselves with walking in the mud on the skin of their own feet.
But at all events, if we believe Mr. Black, and I have no reason to doubt his assertions, the town of Limerick offers many interesting curiosities for the traveller’s amusement. It contains a large stone which is the joy of all antiquarians, because on this stone in 1691, a capitulation was signed and by its terms Sarsfield, Lord of Lucan, who held the town, surrendered with the Irish troops under his command to General de Ginckle who was besieging it for King William. Why do these unhappy Irishmen who are such admirable soldiers when they are once away from their country, who in France formed the splendid Irish Brigade who so brilliantly contributed to the victory of Fontenoy--why do these same Irishmen always allow themselves to be defeated almost ignominiously at home when they are fighting _pro aris et focis_? This is one of the most inexplicable features of the national character.
Mr. Black also recommends us to visit the Catholic cathedral, a ruined castle, the bridges over the Shannon, and a number of other not less curious objects. Unfortunately I was unable to see any of them, for I was so much absorbed after I had left the station in contemplating the touching and instructive spectacle around me that the curiosity of the tourist disappeared before the emotion of the philosopher.
It is a well-known fact in history that from the origin of man the destiny of certain people is often found indissolubly bound up with that of a particular vegetable or animal. For instance, it seems proved that without the Egyptian leek the Jews would all have died of misery and regret before they had finished even the smallest of the three pyramids of Giseh. What would have become of the Arabs without the camel and the racahou, which it appears played such an important part amongst them before it invaded the fourth page of our newspapers? Suppress the seal, and to-morrow there will be no Esquimaux. This is why Jewish and Arabian poets are always most inspired when they sing of the leek and the camel; and that if ever the Esquimaux have poets, their poems ought to be entirely devoted to the seal.