They Tried A Long Time In Vain, Then They
Laid The Four Bodies All In A Row For The Coroner.
The damp grass, the
trampling and sympathetic crowd, the four bodies in their wet garments
laid on the bank, will always rise in my memory along with my first
sight of the river Lee.
Cork seems a rich city, full of business, bustle on all the wharves,
buying and selling on all the streets. The buildings are very grand.
Alongside the river is a long ridge rising up to a tree-crowned summit.
On that hillside is tier upon tier of grand houses, grand churches, fine
convents and public buildings of one kind and another. You come upon
fine churches through the town in corners where you do not expect them.
The church of churches in Cork is the Protestant Cathedral, of St. Finn
Barre - whoever he was. This church sits high up on a rocky foundation,
its pointed spires of exquisite stone-work pierce the sky. It is not
finished, scaffoldings are there, and skilled chisels and cunning
hammers have been knapping and polishing there for many a day, and are
likely to continue hammering and chiselling for many a day more. Inside,
it is marble of Cork, marble of Connemara, marble of Italy, polished to
the brightest. The gates which admit from one ecclesiastical division to
another are wrought in flowers that blaze in gold. Before the altar,
parables of our Lord are wrought in mosaic on the floor.
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