On the first day we made this experiment, we found ourselves descending into that dreary plain that stretches out to the doomed district of Skibbereen.  Under cover of night we sought to penetrate this desolate region in the remotest direction of the sea, where we hoped we might remain unnoticed as country bathers.  We obtained shelter at a small farmers, and made a great many inquiries concerning the neighbouring watering-places, whither we said we were going for the benefit of our health.  There were two young girls, the confidence of one of whom my comrade contrived to win during the evening.  She told him that her sister had a courtship with the sergeant of police, who usually visited there every day.  This hastened our departure next morning.  We set out in the grey dawn, and once again reascended the mountain, to rest and take thought.  The communication of the young girl; the sister’s long delay, when she went to procure refreshments at the village, where the police-sergeant was stationed; the father’s pursuits, and other circumstances, induced us to believe that to follow the plan which, to a certain extent, we had unfolded, would be dangerous.  We therefore determined to change our course.  We were then about fifteen miles south-southwest of Dunmanway.  Adhering to our resolution of settling for a few weeks in some village on the seaside, we purposed to substitute the Kerry side of Bantry Bay for the district we had at first fixed on.  The distance was about fifty miles, and we had to cross a plain several miles wide.  We swept over this plain with a rapidity that taxed severely our exhausted energies, and lay down to sleep on the first patch of heath we gained on the Bantry mountains.

We bathed our feet in a mountain stream, and having partaken of a slight meal, resumed our weary journey.  Night fell on us in the midst of a desolate bog on a mountain top.  We travelled several miles in search of shelter, first in cabins and next in haycocks.  It was a dark, gloomy and threatening night.  After lying for some time on the roadside, where alone a dry spot was to be found, I forced Stephens to consent to make a trial of the town of Bantry, then a mile distant.  The darkness and gloom were favourable to the experiment.  We entered the town, and traversed one or two streets, we knew not in what direction.  On inquiring for a lodging-house, we were directed to the house of Mrs. Barry, who kept a large grocery establishment.  We found accommodation and comfort.  Next day, having made some small purchases through the agency of the servant, and posted some letters, we deliberately walked out of Bantry, by the road which seemed to lead the most directly to the country.  The day was miserable, and we found our journey through the mountains, which overhang the beautiful bay, very unpleasant.  We determined to reach a place called the Priest’s Leap, which is consecrated by a holy tradition in the estimation of the people.  They tell that in the times of persecution a priest was set and sold in these fastnesses.  Having discovered that he was betrayed, he effected his escape through a circle of enclosing pursuers, which it was deemed impossible to break through; the country people believed that he floated invisibly through the air, and alighted on the deck of a Spanish frigate then coasting these shores.