On a car through Connemara
Description:This is an article from the Daily Telegraph with nine accompanying photographs. There are four photographs on the left of the article, four photographs on the right, and a small photograph in the middle of the piece. The top photograph on the left is a picture of Glendalough Hotel taken from the pleasure grounds. There are trees in the grounds of the hotel. The top photograph on the right, also features the hotel. Glendalough Lake is in front of the hotel. The second photograph on the left features a group of men and women. There is a pony and trap in the picture. A trap is a type of carriage. The men are wearing hats and the women are wearing long dresses. There are trees in the picture. The caption of the photograph reads, "Starting for Lough Inagh". Lough Inagh is a lake. The second photograph on the right features a large party of people outside Glendalough Hotel. There is a pony and trap in the picture. There is a man sitting on the trap and he is holding a whip. In the picture, the men are wearing hats and the women are wearing long dresses. At least one woman is wearing a bonnet. One man is holding a fishing net, and another is holding a fishing line. There is a teenage boy standing in his bare feet. There are trees in the picture. The caption of the photograph reads, "The Return". The third photograph on the left features three people on a quay at the edge of a lake. There is a woman sitting down. She is wearing a bonnet and a long dress. There are two men fishing. One is using a net with a handle and the other is using a fishing line. Both men are wearing hats. There are trees and a mountain in the background. The caption of the photograph reads, "Caught". The third photograph on the right features the same three people at the same location. The woman is now standing. The caption of this photograph reads, "Gaffed". The last photograph on the left is a picture of Glendalough Lake taken from Glendalough Hotel. There is a quay, and a tree in the foreground. One of the Twelve Pin mountains can be seen in the distance. The caption of this photograph reads, "One of the Twelve Pin mountains and key of Twelve from hotel window. Views of & from Glendalough Hotel." The last picture on the right also features the lake. There are trees in the foreground, and one of the Twelve Pin mountains can be seen in the distance. The caption of this photograph reads, "Lough from pleasure grounds. Recess in the distance. The Western Highlands, Connemara." The photograph in the middle of the article depicts four men. All four are wearing hats. One is holding a fishing net with a handle. He, and one other man, has a beard. The article reads, "A Car Through Connemara From the special correspondent of the Daily Telegraph Oughterard, August 14. -- Vevey and Nontreaux, Lausanne and Ouchy must, in some respects, bow before the delicious calm of Glendalough, one of the beautiful lakes in the Connemara district, and the head quarters of the enthusiasts who patronise the Ballinahinch fishery. It is just the place I had longed to see. A white inn nestling in a delightful wood, a lawn, covered with blue hyndrangias sloping to the lake, the celebrated Twelve Pin Mountains frowning at you from the other side of the water, and everywhere an utter calm and quiet impossible to describe. Life at Glendalough is curious enough. I would advise all who go there to get themselves posted in the slang of the angler, to learn some of the mysteries of winches and heckles, and if they do not fish, to pretend at least some familiarity with the art. The fishermen who came to Glendalough come to fish, to live upon fish, to talk fish, and if they worship anything it must be Dagon the fish god. The fate of a Ministry, the prospects of a country, the merits of a book, the fauna of a district, the beauty of a landscape, are to the fishermen of Glendalough mere waste of time. You may tempt them with a leading question on any one subject save fish, and having mildly kicked at it, they will return to their beloved theme. Get up at six o'Clock in the morning, try to get out of the hall for a walk into the wood, and you will be tripped up by tangles of fishing lines festooned from chair to chair, and wound from hat-stand to door handle. You will wander through an avenue of landing-nets and pick your way through a puzzle of baskets. The fishermen eat fish for breakfast, eat fish and cook them for luncheon, consume more fish at dinner, and talk fish steadily until bed time. There are queer characters, of course, in such a place. One fisherman owns that he has quite lost his head on the subject of salmon. Mountains, woods, and ferns are to him absurdities. He has set his heart on destroying the 'wily salmon'
whose praises are both written and sung in every page of the visitor's book, and who, luckily for the fishermen, takes upon her shoulders the sole management of Mr. Mullarkey's important inn has been busy since daybreak packing up luncheon baskets for each of the cars now newly harnessed at the door; and a dozen sturdy and sunburnt rustics of the district loll about like the guides at Chemonnix, prepared to hold the Captain's horse, to drive the clergyman's car, to guide the pedestrian fisherman to Lough Inagh or across the mountain to Leenane, or row the hotel boat to some spot where there are ripples on the lake and the white trout will rise. It must not be imagined that the Ballinahinch fishery is open to every one who comes to Connemara with rod and line. A good round sum - half a guinea a day, I believe - is demanded from every rod by the directors of the insurance company in London which owns the delightful property; and at an early hour every morning the steward of the estate comes to the hotel to post the water-bailiffs, and map out the various lakes for the several anglers. Between the hours of nine and nine - nine o' clock in the morning, when the best fisherman departs, and nine o'clock at night, when the most desperate angler returns - the sunny inn on the blue lake is pleasant enough for snubbed tourists like myself. An authority whose opinion should surely have some weight - Mr. T. Taylor - deliberately declares in the visitor's book that Glendalough is the very place for '[looks like boring] reporters'. I am not prepared to dispute the fact, and possibly when my time comes I may fly with her I love to the lake by the mountain, [unable to read remainder of article]." The words 'Messrs. Beauford and Bruce P[unable to read] Galway' appear at the end of the article.
-Lakes and Ponds
-Piers and Wharves
-Carriages and Coaches
-Fishing and Hunting Gear
Copyright:and on this subject he had devoted his life. He has purchased a horse, he has hired a man; he has been two months at Glendalough; he rises at seven, and departs with his faithful slave to the desolate lakes of this extraordinary country; he returns to the nine o'clock table d'hote with the same old story that he has caught his trout for luncheon, which Man Friday has cooked in the camp-kettle, but that the 'wily salmon' has not yet been caught. The tourist is at Glendalough looked down upon with supreme contempt. The man who would come to explore the mountains or bathe in the lake - the woman with basket and trowel, would hunt and find, the maiden hair fern, and the Mediterranean heath, specimens of which are to be obtained in the Connemara district, are looked upon by the Glendalough fishermen as lunatics. The servants of the establishment are taught to eye the tourist with distrust; and if you have not pluck enough when alone to shut yourself up in your shell and listen, or to make up a party of sufficient strength to conquer the fishermen at dinner-time, there are hours at Glendalough which may weary you. Breakfast at Glendalough is at eight sharp, and after breakfast the scene at the hotel door is well worth looking at. The white horse is saddled for the captain. The faithful 'Eliza'