In the centre of Ireland, seventy miles from Dublin, on the border
between King's County and Tipperary, is a little town whereof we must
be cautious before writing the name. The inhabitants of that town
frequently insist that its name is Birr, * while the official
designation is Parsonstown, and to this day for every six people who
apply one name to the town, there will be half a dozen who use the
other. But whichever it may be, Birr or Parsonstown--and I shall
generally call it by the latter name--it is a favourable specimen of
an Irish county town. The widest street is called the Oxmantown
Mall. It is bordered by the dwelling-houses of the chief residents,
and adorned with rows of stately trees. At one end of this
distinctly good feature in the town is the Parish Church, while at
the opposite end are the gates leading into Birr Castle, the
ancestral home of the house of Parsons. Passing through the gates
the visitor enters a spacious demesne, possessing much beauty of wood
and water, one of the most pleasing features being the junction of
the two rivers, which unite at a spot ornamented by beautiful
timber. At various points illustrations of the engineering skill of
the great Earl will be observed. The beauty of the park has been
greatly enhanced by the construction of an ample lake, designed with
the consummate art by which art is concealed. Even in mid-summer it
is enlivened by troops of wild ducks preening themselves in that
confidence which they enjoy in those happy localities where the sound
of a gun is seldom heard. The water is led into the lake by a tube
which passes under one of the two rivers just mentioned, while the
overflow from the lake turns a water-wheel, which works a pair of
elevators ingeniously constructed for draining the low-lying parts of
the estate.

* Considering the fame acquired by Parsonstown from Lord Rosse's