Here these three lords of the O'Neil
slept, lived and agreed, or quarrelled as the case might be, ruling over
a fair domain of this fair country. I do not think the present
generation need feel more than a sentimental regret after the days of
strong castles and many of them, and hands red with unlimited warfare.
Towering up beyond Harry Awry's castle is the high mountain of Baissie
Baal, interpreted to me altar of Baal. I should think it would mean
death of Baal. (Was Baal ever the same as Tommuz, the Adonis of
Scripture?) In the valley beyond is a village still named Beltane (Baal
teine - Baal's fire), so that the mountain must have been used at one
time for the worship of Baal. The name of the mountain is now corrupted
into Bessie Bell.
In the valley at the foot of the mountain is the grand plantation that
stretches miles and miles away, embosoming Baronscourt, the seat of the
Duke of Abercorn, and the way to it in the shade of young forests. There
are nodding firs and feathery larches over the hills, glassing
themselves in the still waters of beautiful lakes. Lonely grandeur and
stately desolation reign and brood over a scene instinct with peasant
life and peasant labor some years ago.
