SNIPPET: "A thousand crows fill the twilight with wings and voice like some vast black shattering of glass. Then, as by an order, they wheel and come to roost in Burnham Wood, claws locked on branches, heads buried under wings, silent as ancient sins," wrote Bryan HODGSON, in the April 1976 issue of the "Smithsonian" Washington DC magazine in his marvelous article 'Irish Ways Live On in Dingle." Perhaps you can locate a copy - 27 pages of history and stories of Kerry's Dingle Peninsula and 20 outstanding photos of the area and residents by Linda BARTLETT. The cover of the magazine has a close-up of a little freckled-face, red-haired Irish boy. "We are silent, too, chilled by the primeval echoes and trapped somehow in time. We have come on a pilgrimage of sorts, from the Holy Stone in Goat Street to the grounds of Burnham House, the graceful mansion that gazes across Dingle Harbour toward the town. The stone is a rude lump, hollowed to catch the rain. In the days when Catholicism was a crime, legends tells, fugitive priests blessed the water for their parishioners. At the bottom of the street the Protestant Church of St. James has lost its tower to age and neglect. A crumbling vault commemorates the family of Frederick MULLINS, a British colonel who bought land near Dingle in 1666. His descendants built Burnham and ruled there as Lords of Ventry. Today (1976) it is a boarding school where young girls study lessons all in Irish. As we turn away, we hear the choir practicing for tomorrow's Mass. The hymn is to the Virgin. The distant voices seem filled with longing. Later, in Tommy GEORGE's Bar near Ballydavid, we hear the longing note again. Micheal O DULAINE, sings for us one of the traditional Irish songs telling of pure love turned to ashes and regret: 'You have taken east from me, and west/You have taken before from me, and behind/You have taken moon and sun from me/And great my fear that you have taken God from me.' Seainin O'SULLIVAN is there, too, and he plays a wild reel that brings four couples to the floor for a Kerry set. It is much like a square dance, with great flourishes of heel and toe. Partners challenge each other's eyes, and their energy charges the room until everyone is clapping and stamping his feet. We salute each other then in pints of stout, with foam like spindrift and a bitter taste of charred malt. 'Slainte mhaith,' says Micheal. 'Good health to you.' 'Go raibh maith agat,' I reply. 'May it go well with you.' The evening is long, and the songs joyful and sad by turns. Irishmen drink not to forget, but to remember." Photos include one captioned: "After a long night of empty nets, bone-weary fishermen console themselves with a pint of stout in Johnnie Frank SULLIVAN's Bar in Ballydavid. Fish processing and trout farming help rank the fishing industry among the area's most important."