{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_45144/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_45144","id":"gutenberg_45144","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45144","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Travel Writing","Killarney, Lakes of (Ireland)"],"text":"Transcriber's Note\n\nSome illustrations were uncaptioned in the original. The transcriber\nhas used the captions from the list of illustrations for the\nconvenience of the reader. These captions are in {braces}.\n\n\n\n\n    Beautiful Ireland\n\n\n        Killarney\n\n           By\n       Mary Gorges\n\n\n     [Illustration]\n\n\n         London\n  Adam & Charles Black\n      Soho Square W\n          1912\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: {THE UPPER LAKE.}]\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n  CHAPTER                                                       PAGE\n     I. THE GLAMOUR OF KILLARNEY                                   5\n\n    II. THE ROAD THROUGH THE GAP: ITS MEMORIES AND ITS RUINS      11\n\n   III. THE LAKES AND THE MOUNTAINS                               23\n\n    IV. MUCKROSS                                                  33\n\n     V. ROSS, INNISFALLEN, AND THE LOWER LAKE                     38\n\n    VI. THE KILLARNEY FOLK                                        49\n\n   VII. THE FAIRIES--AND FAREWELL!                                56\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n\nBY FRANCIS S. WALKER, R.H.A.\n\n\n   1. THE UPPER LAKE                          _Frontispiece_\n\n                                                 FACING PAGE\n   2. THE GAP OF DUNLOE ON A STORMY DAY                    9\n\n   3. THE HEAD OF THE GAP OF DUNLOE                       16\n\n   4. AT THE FOOT OF MANGERTON MOUNTAIN                   25\n\n   5. O'SULLIVAN'S PUNCHBOWL                              27\n\n   6. MUCKROSS LAKE AND GLENA MOUNTAIN                    30\n\n   7. MUCKROSS                                            32\n\n   8. THE ISLAND OF INNISFALLEN                           43\n\n   9. IN A TYPICAL COTTAGE                                46\n\n  10. MOUNTAIN HOMES OF THE KILLARNEY DISTRICT            49\n\n  11. CUTTING PEAT FROM THE BOG                           56\n\n  12. THE EAGLE'S NEST, KILLARNEY             _On the cover_\n\n\n\n\nKILLARNEY\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHE GLAMOUR OF KILLARNEY\n\n\nKillarney--in Irish \"the Church of the Sloes\"--though but a small\ntown, is, owing to its position, the centre from which the wondrously\nlovely scenery of the district may best be explored, a district which\nhas been described as \"the Mecca of every pilgrim in search of the\nsublime and beautiful in Nature--the mountain paradise of the West.\"\nYet if the magical softness of shimmering wave and wooded isle, the\nglory of their colouring, the ineffable peace which broods over hill\nand vale, tempt the summer visitor to think that Paradise could not be\nfairer, there are dark glens, frowning mountains, and sombre passes,\nwhich but too vividly remind the beholder that on earth must the\nshadow always follow the sunshine, the minor note of sadness be heard,\nthat even in this enchanted spot has the war-cry many a time been\nsounded, and men have wreaked their fierce passions and poured out\ntheir blood, and women, stricken to the heart, have suffered and died\nunder these tender skies. The ruined castles tell their own story.\n\nTo analyze the charm of Killarney Vale is impossible. It is the very\nregion of romance, and one to which fairy legend and ghostly tale seem\nto fit themselves better than do the commonplaces of life. There would\nseem nothing strange were the O'Donoghue on his white charger seen to\ncleave the wave and emerge on its foam-flecked shore, coming we know\nnot whence, going we know not where, but real as when he trod his\nnative glens, a prince and a ruler among men. The unseen world seems\nvery near to those who have fallen under the spell of fair Killarney.\n\nPart of this charm is doubtless due to the wonder of its beauty, the\nceaseless contrasts it presents. I have seen a theory advanced of late\nyears that, as is the land, so are the dwellers thereon; that the\ncharacter of the soil determines that of its children; the rivers\nwhich they look upon, rapid and lawless, or strong and silent; the\ndark forest; the rich fields or the barren plains; the mysterious\nmountain or the gay valley, alike influence--nay, form--their\nindividuality. There is a remarkable passage in the autobiography of a\nvery remarkable man--Stillman (war correspondent to the _Times_ in its\nearlier days), in which he speaks of the effect which a few weeks'\nsojourn among the then primeval forests on the banks of the Hudson\nproduced upon him. Over-wearied by brain work, he had shut himself\naway from sight or sound of civilization, from human companionship,\ndepending on his gun for food, the waters of the spring for drink. He\ndescribes how gradually the artificialities of life seemed to slip\nfrom him, and he felt akin with grass and tree, with the skies above\nhim, the clouds which swept over their surface, the glories of the sun\nby day, the moon and the stars by night. He seemed also conscious of a\nworld of spirits, or at least beings not of flesh and blood, very\nclose to him. Sometimes as he lay at rest upon the grass a radiant\nface looked down on him; once or twice a voice spoke. Above all, he\nfelt confident he was being guided when external guidance was\nimpossible, in black darkness, and when a mistake or false step meant\ndeath. He believed that senses we have lost revive, and that we grow\ncognisant of a world other than that we habitually live in, as, far\naway from the haunts of men, we let Nature speak to us once more.\n\nIn many voices has Nature spoken to the children of Killarney, weaving\nsomething of the changeableness, the melancholy, the deep gloom, and\nthe overflowing sunshine of their hills and vales into the very heart\nof the people, making them what they are for good or ill. To them has\nbeen given vision of the supernatural region as a refuge to the\nearth-bound spirit from the sordid cares of money-getting; and so has a\nworld of dreamers, for all their outward gaiety and lightheartedness,\nbeen created in the kingdom of Kerry. Dreamers we call them, but, after\nall, may not Jean Paul Richter's words be prophetic, and the dreamers\nyet awaken from life's uneasy sleep to find its dreams alone were true.\n\n  [Illustration: THE GAP OF DUNLOE ON A STORMY DAY.\n    The wildness of the Gap is a great contrast to the lake scenery\n      to which it gives access.]\n\nThe name of Killarney conjures up such thoughts. It owes its fame\nsolely to its beauty and to the fascination which the character of\nthat beauty exercises over the beholder. For it is never the same, and\nevery change appeals to the imagination. Who that has seen it can\nforget the superb tinting of the foliage which clothes the mountain\nsides and transforms the isles into quivering kaleidoscopes of colour,\nflashing back the light as the waves of a sunlit sea. Then a shadow\nflits from the mountain tops, and the hues change as though under the\nspell of a magician hidden among those far-off caves, but only to a\nyet richer combination. Gorse and heather, arbutus and fern, show a\nsofter radiance, less dazzling, but more sympathetic; silvery rills\ncourse down the declivities which surround the lakes, now visible\nthrough the trees and giant shrubs, now hidden, but always with a\nmurmur of sound like distant notes of the fairy music which once, it\nis said, woke the echoes of Killarney. And for those who have the\nhearing ear it may do so still; with unbelievers the \"good people\"\nhave no intercourse.\n\nThere is a supernatural origin ascribed to almost everything in\nKillarney--to the lakes among the rest. These are formed and supplied\nby the numerous minor lakes in the surrounding mountains, and by\nseveral rivers which flow into them, having received on their way the\nwaters of innumerable tributary streams, all finding an outlet by the\nrapid river Laune, which bears them to the Atlantic through the\nbeautiful bay of Dingle.\n\nBut in long-ago days there were no lakes at Killarney--so legend\nsays--only an extensive and inhabited valley, fair and fertile. In\nthis was a magic fountain, which supplied water clear as crystal,\nconcerning which a tradition existed that whoever should displace the\nstone over the well-head would bring destruction to himself and to the\nvalley. It was the reckless daring of a mortal which caused the\nfulfilment of this prediction. One of the great O'Donoghues, to prove\nthe falsity of a tradition which he scorned, resolved in evil hour to\nhave the stone removed to his castle. With fear and trembling his\nsubjects, who dared not disobey him, awaited the result, all save his\nfavourite jester, who fled to the summit of a neighbouring mountain.\nWhen morning came the jester looked down into the valley, and saw\nnothing but a great expanse of water. The valley was flooded in a\nsingle night, and its inhabitants drowned. It is believed, however,\nthat they did not perish, but still exist under the lakes, enjoying a\nhappier life than the earth one they left, feasting, music, and\ndancing filling the hours.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE ROAD THROUGH THE GAP: ITS MEMORIES AND ITS RUINS\n\n\nThe principal lakes of Killarney are three in number--the Upper Lake\nis the smallest, but often adjudged the most beautiful; it is two\nmiles and a half in length by half a mile in breadth, the Middle (Torc\nor Muckross) Lake is two miles long by one broad, while Lough Leane\n(\"the Lake of Learning\") is five miles and a half long by two miles\nand a half in breadth.\n\nThese lakes are connected by channels, narrow, though sufficiently\nwide to admit of the passing of a boat, so in a sense they may be\nconsidered as one, yet each lake possesses a character peculiar to\nitself and very distinctive.\n\nKillarney is easy of access in these days. In less than sixteen hours\nthe tourist may reach it from London, via Holyhead, while Queenstown,\nLiverpool and the newer route by Rosslare afford facilities for\nvisitors from every land. And once arrived they find all the comforts\nand luxuries of modern civilization in the first class hotels, which\nhave sprung up to meet the ever increasing need of accommodation;\nhotels from some of which the visitor may view the beauty of lake and\nmountain, the lights and shadows, the glory of their colouring,\nwithout going further afield.\n\nKillarney itself is a small town of which there is little to record.\nAdjoining is the Earl of Kenmare's demesne, with its fine gardens and\nsplendid golf links; the latter one of the best inland courses in\nIreland. Visitors can use it on payment of a small green fee.\n\nTo proceed by land to the far-famed Gap of Dunloe, and, traversing it,\ntake the road to the Upper Lake, is the general plan followed by the\nstranger, for this best shows a great and varied extent of country,\nwith such contrasts of softness and grandeur--nay, desolation--as no\nother scenery presents.\n\nIn this land the past has graven deep its records in ruined castle,\ntower and abbey, each with its tale. And the first of these after\nleaving Killarney, is to be found at Aghadoe (in Irish Acadh-da-ca,\n\"the field of the two yew trees\"). It is about two miles from\nKillarney, and a slight detour to the right must be made to visit it.\n\nAghadoe stands on an eminence commanding most lovely views of the\nlakes and mountains. It was an ancient bishopric, and here is the ruin\nof its Cathedral church, which consists of two chapels of distinct\nperiods of antiquity. They lie east and west of each other--that to\nthe east, probably dating from about 1158, is in the Pointed style,\nand dedicated to the Holy Trinity; the more ancient, in\nHiberno-Romanesque style, appears to have been built some centuries\nbefore the coming of the Normans, and is far richer and more\nbeautiful. The western end contains a doorway of recessed arches,\ncovered with particularly fine mouldings and decorations.\n\nNot far from the western end are the remains of what must have been a\nvery fine Round tower, judging from the style of its masonry, now,\nhowever, only about 15 feet in height. Many of its stones have been\ntaken away and converted into tombstones for neighbouring churchyards,\nor some other need of the mason. The Castle is another massive\ncircular fragment of about 30 feet in height, sometimes called \"The\nBishop's Chair,\" sometimes \"The Pulpit,\" and believed to have been\nthe residence of the bishops of the diocese.\n\nFollowing the road to the north side of the lake, several fine\ndemesnes are passed, one of them, Lakeview House, being the residence\nof Sir Morgan Ross O'Connell, Bart., grand-nephew of the Liberator. It\nis a beautiful drive, and many a tale of the past will enliven the\nway, as, crossing Beaufort Bridge over the Laune, you reach Dunloe\nCastle at the west end of the lake, about seven miles from Killarney\ntown.\n\nDunloe Castle stands on a height from whence the view is glorious.\nThis Castle is the seat of the Mahonys, and is very ancient. An old\nhistory of Kerry mentions that its floors are formed of very fine\nplanks of the yew tree, a wood which, when well wrought, has a more\nbeautiful grain and polish than mahogany. Bees have taken up their\nresidence for centuries in this old fortress. They are in curious\nniches and angles behind the massive walls and under the floors. They\ndisturb no one and refuse to be evicted. A bee-keeper tried if he\ncould tempt them beyond their bounds by laying \"sections\" in a place\nto which they had access, with a hope of securing some of the honey.\nThey took no notice. Through a cupboard in one of the walls, you can\nsee far back a host of these little people, the self-constituted\nguests of Dunloe Castle, very busy over their affairs.\n\nThere is a fishing lodge close to Dunloe Castle. This is let during\nthe season, and very fine sport is to be had. The splendid lake and\nriver fishing about Killarney is no small attraction to the angler,\nboth being well stocked with the finest trout and salmon.\n\nA very remarkable cave near the Gap of Dunloe was accidentally\ndiscovered in 1838, and was then and subsequently explored with much\ninterest. Its roof has now fallen in. It was a subterranean chamber of\ncircular form, the walls of uncemented stones inclining inwards, with\na roof also of long transverse stones, the angles of which are covered\nwith Ogham writing, \"which is to the Irish antiquary what the Runes\nare in the north, the Arrow-headed or Wedge characters in Babylonia or\nPersepolis. Arch\u00e6ological discoveries in Ireland are of more general\ninterest than formerly, as the earth is laying bare her secrets all\nover the world, and what is discovered in one country is found to have\nits bearing on something brought to light in another.\" The discovery\nof Ogham characters in this cave was additional evidence that the\nIrish had a literature far in advance of the rest of Europe and long\nbefore the Christian era.\n\nClose to the entrance of the Gap stands Kate Kearney's cottage as,\nwhether it contains a \"Kate\" or not, it will always be called. There\nis many a pretty girl in Kerry whose bright eyes, clear colouring and\nbeautiful hair attract the passer by, but Kate will be remembered to\nthe end of time, because of the few lines which, \"lilting\" from a\npoet's heart, conferred upon her the crown of immortal youth and\nbeauty:\n\n    \"From the glance of her eye, shun danger and fly,\n    For fatal's the glance of Kate Kearney!\"\n\nIt is the fashion to depreciate Moore as a poet, to compare his lyrics\nto the notes of a musical-box, sweet indeed, but devoid of true\ninspiration. Yet he fulfilled a noble mission in his day, rescuing and\nbringing to light the music of his country, wedding it to words that\ntell its story or reveal its beauties instead of the worthless jingle\nwhich had so often degraded it. It was Moore's poetry which greatly\nhelped to make Killarney known early in the last century to many in\nEngland.\n\n  [Illustration: THE HEAD OF THE GAP OF DUNLOE.]\n\nReaders of the literature of that day will know what an influence\nMoore was in its intellectual circles--his wit, his geniality, his\nsinging, \"the effect of which,\" writes N. P. Willis, who met him at\nLady Blessington's, \"is only equalled by the beauty of his own words.\"\nHis voice was of small compass, but exquisitely modulated and\nexpressing every shade of feeling and sentiment, so that women have\nbeen known to faint as they listened to his singing, which awakened,\nperhaps, a buried sorrow, a long past anguish.\n\nOnce enter the Gap of Dunloe and the scene utterly changes; gone is\nthe soft verdure, the brilliant tinting, silent the song of birds. On\neither side rise huge rocks, of strange, fantastic shapes, often\nappearing half suspended over the path, while never far from it rushes\nthe dark Loe, \"a brawling and angry stream,\" which traverses the whole\nlength of the Gap, about four miles, often passing along heights, then\ntumbling into depths with rush and roar, now near, now distant, but\never voicing the wild emotions which seem to lurk amid the gloom of\nthis stern defile. It expands into five lakes, called collectively\nthe Cummeen Lakes, during its passage through the Gap.\n\nTradition ascribes the origin of this wild pass to a stroke from the\nsword of a mighty giant, which separated the mountains and left them\napart for ever, MacGillicuddy's Reeks on one side, Toomies and the\nPurple Mountain on the other. Very stern and grand look the Reeks, one\nof their peaks, Carn-tual (\"the inverted sickle\") rising higher than\nany mountain in Ireland--3,414 feet above the level of the sea. There\nis softer beauty on the mountains to the left, the Purple Mountain in\nparticular (2,739 feet in height). The lovely hue which pervades this\nmountain is generally ascribed to a purple heath, which covers its\nsides, almost to the top, with perpetual bloom. Its name, however, was\noriginally derived from an immense pile of loose stones and slates of\na purple tint, which becomes intense when the sun shines upon them.\n\nIt is from the Gap of Dunloe that the Purple Mountain should be\nascended; it is not a formidable climb, but ponies await those who\nfear the fatigue. The view from the summit is magnificent.\n\nThe western base of this mountain descends into Augher Lake, and\nclose to this spot is the Woodwork Factory, where carved specimens of\narbutus and other woods can be obtained in inlaid tables, chess and\nbackgammon sets, card cases, etc.\n\nChess is believed to have been played in prehistoric times by the\nancient Irish, and the frequent mention of the game long before the\nNorman invasion shows it was a favourite one. \"The chess board was\ncalled in Irish 'fithcheall,' and is described in the _Glossary_ of\nCormac of Cashel, composed towards the close of the ninth century, as\nquadrangular in shape, and having straight spots of black and white.\nSome of these were inlaid with gold and silver and adorned with gems.\nNo entire set of the ancient men is now known to exist, though\nfrequent mention is made of the brigade or family of chessmen in many\nold manuscripts. Kings of bone, seated in sculptured chairs, about 2\ninches in height, have been found, and specimens of them engraved in\nrecent antiquarian publications\" (D'Arcy Magee's _History of\nIreland_).\n\nThe most striking part of the Gap is where the valley contracts so as\nto bring the precipitous sides very close together. The peasants have\nnamed this the Pike, and to the grotesquely formed rocks along the\npass they have also given names--the Turnpike, O'Donoghue's Heart, and\nso on. The impression conveyed as you proceed, is of gloom and of a\ncertain aloofness from the ordinary. The eagle soaring above is no\nuncommon sight.\n\nA little distance from the Pike is a lonely tarn called the Black Lake\n(Loch Dubh), where St. Patrick imprisoned the last Irish snake, which\nis supposed to live in its depths. A little south of the Pass the spot\nis pointed out where the last Irish wolf was slain.\n\nThere is a stamp of wild force in all that meets the eye while\ntraversing the Gap, which is not diminished as at Gap Cottage the end\nis neared. At its commencement cars have had to be abandoned. You must\nride or walk. If you have elected to walk you will probably now be\nfootsore and weary. Even the sure-footed ponies generally used may not\nprevent fatigue from the rough, precipitous road, but it is forgotten\nwhen, on leaving the Gap, a turn in the path brings in view one of the\nmost famous glens of Killarney--the Black Valley. This was formerly\ndescribed as so black, so desolate, that it might have been named the\nValley of the Shadow of Death. It owes this reputation merely to its\nEnglish name--a mistranslation from the Irish one--Cumin Dubh\n(O'Duff's Valley). No one knows who this O'Duff was, however, and the\nBlack Valley is a more romantic name for a singularly wild and\nbeautiful scene.\n\nThe path now inclines to the left, bringing in view the Upper Lake,\nits waters glowing like burnished gold, if, as often happens, it\napproaches the sunset hour when you reach it. How lovely it looks,\nguarded on every side by those great mountains which hold so many\nsecrets!\n\nNot without a passing regret do we leave the Gap. It has its own\ncharm, arousing wonder and curiosity and a certain awe. One really\nfeels when the Pike is reached as though there was nothing strange in\nits having emanated from the giant's sword.\n\nThe scene surveyed from here is very beautiful, and tempts delay, but\nthe Upper Lake must be reached. By the side of the hill you descend is\nthe Logan stone, or \"balanced rock,\" long considered a wonder of\nDruidical times. Some affirm now that its rocking motion is from\nnatural causes, but, set as it is on the lonely hill, it looks as if\nit well might have been fashioned by those stern old heathen.\n\nStill descending, the road takes a sharp backward curve to the foot of\nFubrahy's Crags; then, turning again, it continues till, after\ncrossing a bridge, it passes through an opening in the wall into\nGurmaheen Demesne, within which are tea and waiting rooms, called\n\"Lord Brandon's Cottage.\" From thence a short path descends to the\nUpper Lake, where in some sheltered bay your boat awaits you.\n\n  [Illustration: {THE EAGLE'S NEST, KILLARNEY.}]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE LAKES AND THE MOUNTAINS\n\n\nNo one has ever realized the enchantment of Killarney or fallen under\nits spell who has not been upon its waters. As the boat glides into\nthe Upper Lake, all that has ever been said of its varied beauty seems\npoor compared to the reality. The mountains which surround it on every\nside give indescribable grandeur to its scenery--so much so that,\nadded to the contrasted beauty of its wooded isles, it is on the whole\nconceded that it bears the golden apple from its sister lakes;\ncertainly, as the boatmen row from point to point, you say so, and\nmemory, bringing back the vision in after days--perhaps in the hot and\ndusty thoroughfare--confirms the verdict.\n\nThe Upper Lake contains twelve small islands, some of them of such a\nheight that at a distance they resemble so many lofty towers standing\nin the waters, their summits crowned with bright green wreaths of the\narbutus and many another verdant shrub and tree. In other aspects they\nappear to represent the ruins of stately palaces. To add to this\neffect, their edges are so much worn by the dashing of water against\nthem, and by rains washing away the earth, and \"time hath so\ndisjointed these marble rocks,\" that some hang in such curious fashion\nas to represent a rude architectural formation.\n\nThe extraordinary verdure, not only of the isles, but of the\nmountains, is even more striking viewed from these lonely waters than\nwhere man has left more perceptible trace of his presence. It seems\nincredible that giant fern, tree-shrubs, and plants should flourish in\ntropical profusion at the great heights to which they attain, and\nwithout the artificial aid which is impossible.\n\nThis wonderful foliage is the glory of all the islands, but here it\nthrows into intense relief the sublimity inseparable from great\nmountain scenery, and even in point of height the MacGillicuddy's\nReeks can claim greatness. More than a hundred years ago Holmes, in\nhis _Tour in Ireland_, records his first glimpse of the noble range:\n\"Their peaks immersed in mist and storms, along their prodigious\nfurrows the cataracts, swollen by recent rains, tumbling with fury and\nglistening like liquid silver; in a little time the peaks piercing\nthrough the clouds, the grey mists slow descending like a great\ncurtain, through which the sun darted his rays.\"\n\n  [Illustration: AT THE FOOT OF MANGERTON MOUNTAIN, KILLARNEY.]\n\nThe Purple Mountain, always beautiful and changeful in aspect as the\nlakes themselves, looks down from the north, while on the other side\nrises Torc's noble outline, and further off great Mangerton.\n\nMany of the mountains are densely wooded to a great height--giant\nferns, the rowan, holly, yew, juniper. Above all the arbutus grow in a\ntangle of profusion, and on rocks where no earth appears. How the\nsteep rocks and crags can give root-hold to this forestry of green is\na marvel to the beholder, the roots being simply filaments entwining\nthemselves round crevices in the stone, holding on with a grim\ntenacity which defies the wildest storm--better even than the forest\ntree. The birds of the air have dropped their seeds, or the winds\ncarried them to this their home, and they will not let it go. Here\nwill they stay as long, perchance, as the rocks themselves.\n\n\"I expected the loveliness I met,\" said an English visitor to\nKillarney lately, \"and I believe the strongest impression made on me\nwas by those beautiful tropical shrubs in mid-air, as they seemed, and\nwith no apparent hold on the soil.\"\n\nThe arbutus is supposed by some to have come from Spain and to have\nbeen cultivated in the first instance by the early monks; but the more\ngeneral belief is that it was indigenous. It is not to be found of\nspontaneous growth nearer to Ireland than the very south of France and\nItaly, and only as a shrub, while about the lakes and mountains here\nit often becomes a large and tall tree. Pliny mentions it as\nextraordinary that it should thus grow in Arabia, and Petra Bellonus\nalso observes this as occurring on Mount Athos in Macedonia. But it\nseems to love its Irish home best, and to revel in the luxuriant\ngrowth which makes it so noticeable in Killarney's leafy forests.\n\nThe blossoms of the arbutus grow in clusters of white bells, not\nunlike those of the lily of the valley, in great abundance, and\nnestling under bunches of bright green leaves. It has, at the same\ntime, ripe and green fruit on its branches, first a deep pale yellow,\ndeepening, as it advances to ripeness, then a brilliant scarlet\nlike that of a strawberry. Autumn and winter are the seasons of its\ngreatest bloom and beauty.\n\n  [Illustration: O'SULLIVAN'S PUNCHBOWL, KILLARNEY.]\n\nA most beautiful cascade at the western end of the lake tumbles down\nthe mountain side and empties itself in a dazzling sheet of foam into\nits waters. The music of its fall seems very close as the boat passes\nthe various isles, and you are told the legends connected with them.\nOne in particular, MacCarthy's Island, is pointed out as the last\nrefuge of one of the great family. We will find other memories of this\npowerful sept in many a local tradition. Here a battle was fought, a\nfort taken or lost, triumph or defeat, and then you are pointed to a\ngrave--the end of it all!\n\nBut on the Upper Lake it is hard to think of anything but the lovely,\nlonely scenery--lonelier because of the everlasting hills which\ncompass it around.\n\nEagle Island was once the haunt of these royal birds, and still the\ngolden eagle has not forsaken it, though less seldom seen. Ronayne\nIsland is named after one who lived there, apart from his fellow-men,\nin self-chosen solitude. At each point there is something to relate,\nwhile every turn produces a change in outline or colour so as almost\nto form a fresh scene. Many a lovely little bay and channel are\nexplored, till too soon the boat passes the last islet, enters the\nlast bay, rounds the last promontory.\n\nA very narrow part of the passage occurs here where this promontory\njuts out, leaving a breadth of only about thirty feet. It is called\nColeman's Eye. Some legendary person is said to have leaped across the\nstream here, leaving his footprints on the rock beyond.\n\nAnd now, with long look and reluctant farewell, we are on the Long\nRange, the river connecting the Upper with its sister lakes.\n\nIn Holmes' _Tour_ he thus characterizes the Long Range: \"I should\ndistinguish the Upper Lake as being the most sublime, the Lower the\nmost beautiful, and Muckross Lake the most picturesque, the winding\npassage leading to the Upper containing a surprising combination of\nthe three, probably not to be exceeded by any spot in the world.\"\n\nThe Long Range is about two miles in length. Its margins are gemmed\nwith water-lilies, snowy and golden. Here the _Osmunda regalia_ is\nseen growing almost in forests, and of great size, its branches, as\nwell as those of the alder, birch, yew, arbutus, and many another,\nentwining as if they grew from a common root. Other rare ferns, some\npeculiar to Kerry, as the Brutle fern (_Trichomanes speciosum_),\ncompletely clothe the wild crags on either side. But it is hopeless to\nattempt specifying the variety of foliage, the different shades of\ngreen, the masses of heather and gorse, which in all stages of their\nbloom, their first spring glory, or the no less lovely golden and\nbrown tints of autumn, make the most rugged mountain sides beautiful.\nAnd let not the little \"bog down\" be forgotten which around Killarney\nmakes the bogs resemble waving fields of snow. \"Light of love\" the\npeasant girls call this bog rush, for a breath sends its down floating\nlightly away. A little white tuft of silky cotton, from its shortness\nof no practical use in the work-a-day world, so it lives its life\nunharmed, gay as the bog-land dwellers themselves.\n\nVery wild and grand is the scenery here. Rocks in a hundred forms\nappear as the banks are passed, and behind, at nearer or further\ndistance, rise the greater mountain heights.\n\nThe boat passes several islets, named from resemblance, real or\nimaginary, The Jolly Boat, The Cannon Rock, The Man-of-War Rock--a\nmass like a vessel, keel uppermost. Soon the far-famed Eagle's Nest is\nreached, a rugged, precipitous cliff 1,700 feet high. Here the eagles\nstill have their nest, for Nature has secured them from the hand of\nman. It is a very majestic rock, thickly clothed with evergreens\nnearly to the summit, where, however, heath and a few scattered shrubs\nhide the nest, and show the great outline, the rugged mass, in stern\nsublimity. Here the Killarney Echo is best heard.\n\nPerhaps among the many writers who have tried to describe the effect\nproduced by this echo, Mrs. Hall gives the most vivid impression. She\nsays: \"The bugler first played a single note; it was caught up and\nrepeated loudly; softly, again loudly; again softly, and then as if by\na hundred instruments rolling around and above the mountains, and\ndying softly away. Then a few notes were blown, a multitude of voices\nreplied, sometimes pausing, then mingling in a strain of sublime\ngrandeur and delicate sweetness. Then came the firing of a cannon,\nwhen every mountain around seemed instinct with angry life, and\nreplied in voices of thunder, the sound being multiplied a\nthousandfold, first a terrific growl, then a fearful crash, both\ncaught up and returned by the surrounding hills, while those nearest\nbecame silent, awaiting the oncoming of those that were distant, then\ndropping to a gentle lull, as if the winds only created them, then\nbreaking forth again into a combined and terrific roar.\"\n\n  [Illustration: MUCKROSS LAKE AND GLENA MOUNTAIN FROM TORC\n    COTTAGE--EARLY MORNING.]\n\nSoon after passing Eagle's Nest the end of the Long Range is reached,\nand the stream divides, skirting round Dinish Island into Lough Leane\non the left side, to the right passing under Old Weir Bridge into\nMuckross Lake.\n\nThe Old Weir Bridge consists of two arches; only one affords a passage\nfor boats, and as the water of the Upper Lake rushes into Muckross\nLake on its way to the sea through the Laune, the current is extremely\nrapid, and it is quite usual for tourists to disembark and walk,\nmeeting the boat on the other side. Those with strong nerves, however,\nenjoy \"shooting the rapids.\" You then find yourself in Torc (or\nMuckross) Lake, and opposite Dinish Island, on which is a pretty\ncottage, where it is usual to halt for rest and refreshment. The chief\nfeature of the latter is salmon, broiled in cutlets on a fire made of\narbutus, the slices skewered on a spray of the same, which is said to\nimpart a delicious flavour to the fish.\n\nThere are so many objects of interest clustered around the Lakes that\nit is vain trying to compress them into the description of a day's\nexcursion. When time is an object, the tourist can manage to \"do\" the\nwhole three lakes, but if time permits, the point we have now reached\nshould be the limit of his first day, and a row home over the lovely\nwaters of Lough Leane to Ross Island is a fitting close to it. The\ngrand old Castle never looks so picturesque as in the evening glow;\nlet it be his last memory of the day.\n\n  [Illustration: MUCKROSS, KILLARNEY.\n    From above Torc Waterfall, showing the upper and lower lakes with\n      the peninsula which divides them.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nMUCKROSS\n\n\nNothing more beautiful than the scene viewed from Muckross (\"the place\nof wild swine\") can be imagined. Its woods and lawns form a large\npromontory, shooting far into the lake, which the wooded isles beyond\nseem almost to join, the water breaking and glancing between like tiny\nbays. Muckross Abbey Mansion stands in lovely grounds, which, fringing\nthe slope to the water's edge, form a beautiful shore to the lake.\n\nThe scene which this point commands is unrivalled--indeed, Torc lake\n(Torc, a wild boar) need fear no comparison. Toomies and Glena are\nopposite, so softly outlined by the beautiful waving forests which\ncling to their sides that their magnificent height is half forgotten.\nIn contrast the hills which rise above the Eagle's Nest are bare,\nbroken, almost savage.\n\nBut if it is hard to convey by words an idea of scenery in general,\nmore difficult is it with that of Killarney, so varied are the effects\nproduced under its changeful skies,\n\n    \"Shining through sorrow's beam,\n    Saddening through sorrow's gleam.\"\n\nMr. Young, our English visitor of long ago, notices this much. In one\nplace he observes: \"Torc was obscured by the sun shining immediately\nabove him, and, casting a stream of burning light on the water,\ndisplayed an effect to describe which the pencil of a Claude alone\nwould be equal.\"\n\nThe ruined Abbey of Muckross stands in the grounds of Muckross\ndemesne, and was founded by a MacCarthy Mor in 1340, according to the\n_Annals of the Four Masters_, upon the site of a much older church,\nwhich was destroyed by fire. It was built for Conventual Franciscans,\nand was dedicated to the Holy Trinity. The original name was Irrelagh.\n\nThe two principal parts of the ruin are the convent and the church,\nthe latter about 100 feet in length and 24 feet in breadth, the\nsteeple standing between the nave and chancel, resting on four high\nand slender pointed arches.\n\nThe cloisters are in a very perfect state, consisting of a beautiful\nquadrangle of marble arches, some pointed, some with semicircular\nheads, enclosing a square, in the centre of which stands the great\nyew-tree, said to be as old as the Abbey itself. It rises to the\nheight of 60 feet, its spreading branches overshadowing the cloisters\nand forming a canopy, impervious to the sun. The circumference of its\ntrunk is 13 feet, and it is regarded with much awe because of a belief\nthat anyone attempting to pluck a leaf or branch, or in any way injure\nthis yew, will not be alive on that day twelve months.\n\nThe principal entrance is by a handsome Pointed doorway, from which is\nseen the great eastern window, with its simple, beautiful tracery. The\nspace within is filled with tombs, many of them nameless. A large\nmodern one in the centre of the choir covers a vault, where in ancient\ntimes were interred the MacCarthys, and, more lately, the O'Donoghues.\n\nClose to this tomb is the slab which formerly covered the vault,\nwithout inscription, but bearing the arms of the Earl of Clancarty of\nthe old creation, this title and that of Viscount Valentia being\nbestowed by Queen Elizabeth in 1565 on Donald MacCarthy Mor, the head\nof the elder branch of that great family. His haughty followers would\nnone of it, and slighted the chieftain who had condescended, however\ngrudgingly, to accept an honour at the hands of the Sassenach.\n\nThe dormitories, cellars, kitchens, refectories, etc., are in good\npreservation, but the upper rooms are unroofed. There is a great\nfireplace in the refectory, where once the monks kept good cheer. Very\nsilent and deserted it is now, with the innumerable graves around.\n\nThe great Torc Cascade empties itself into Muckross Lake a little more\nthan a mile from the Abbey. It comes from the Devil's Punch Bowl,\nwhich it is worth ascending Mangerton to see. On the western side of\nthe mountain is a small circular lake, about 600 yards in diameter\nacross the top. From the brink, as you look downwards, there is a\ndepth of nearly 300 yards. This is the Devil's Punch Bowl. On the side\nnext Muckross there is an immense perpendicular chasm, equal in depth\nto the height of the sides of the Bowl, into which its overflowings\nrush and are conveyed through a narrow channel, called the Devil's\nStream, to the shore of Muckross Lake, tumbling down the sides of the\nhill, nearly 200 feet, in a great cascade.\n\nIn the peninsula of Muckross is a mine, now disused, which, when\nworked by an English company in 1804, gave a large output of the\nfinest copper ore.\n\nThere are many indications of mineral treasures yet to be discovered\namong the hills and glens of Killarney. When Dr. Berkeley was asked\nhis opinion of Muckross at a time when Art was considered far superior\nto Nature, he replied: \"The French monarch might possibly be able to\ncreate another Versailles, but could not, with all his revenues, lay\nout another Muckross.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nROSS, INNISFALLEN, AND THE LOWER LAKE\n\n\nRoss is only separated from the mainland by a narrow cut through a\nmorass, which gives it its claim to be an island.\n\nThis division is probably artificial, and made in former days to\nstrengthen the fortifications of the Castle. A carriage road from the\ntown of Killarney crosses the small connecting bridge and brings the\ntourist under the walls of Ross Castle, where there is a landing-place\nfor those who come by water.\n\nRoss Castle is still a splendid old fortress, far less injured by time\nor mischance than most of its contemporaries in Kerry. A tall and\nstately building, it is seen from far, dominating Lough Leane and\nadding additional charm to the view, with its massive buttresses and\nbattlements, reminders of the old fighting days. It is but a short\ndistance between Ross and Muckross, yet the character of the scene is\nutterly changed. Say what we will of the other lakes, Lough Leane\nremains the lake of enchantment.\n\nRoss is a very ancient Castle, built by some far-back O'Donoghue, the\nprecise date unknown. Within is a spiral staircase of stone mounting\nto the top, from whence a marvellous panorama lies before you.\n\nIn 1652 Ross Castle was held by Lord Muskerry for the King, during the\nParliamentary wars, against General Ludlow. It was well garrisoned and\nprovisioned, and the defenders were prepared vigorously to repel the\nfoe, yet they surrendered almost at once. There was an old prophecy\nthat Ross Castle would never be taken till warships were seen on the\nlake, and when the garrison beheld the boats which General Ludlow had\nbuilt and conveyed overland approaching to attack, they yielded. The\nprophecy was fulfilled: it was useless to fight against fate. But it\nis more to legendary than historical lore that Ross Castle owes the\nfascination which surrounds it.\n\nThe guides of Killarney deserve mention here, for they add to the\nenjoyment of the various excursions, knowing every legend, each\nassociation, the origin of every name, and are even capable of\ninventing on the spur of the moment romances the most picturesque,\nwonders the most thrilling, discerning at a glance on whom to expend\ntheir powers of imagination. \"All sorts and conditions of men\" come\nunder their ken. In the tourist season scarce a land but has its\nrepresentative, to some of whom Ireland was a sealed page till they\nlistened to the tales of Killarney from her guides.\n\nHere they point to you the very window from which the great O'Donoghue\nleaped into the lake below. There he reigns in the regions of\nenchantment, greater and happier than in his earthly sovereignty. Once\nin every seven years on a May morning, before the first beams of the\nsun have arisen over the mountain tops, the sweetest strains of fairy\nmusic are heard, and the great chieftain may be seen on a splendid\nsnow-white charger, shod with silver shoes, riding over the lake,\npreceded by a joyous band of youths and maidens scattering flowers\nbefore him. Well it is for the mortal who sees him; prosperity will\nfollow from that day forth.\n\nJust, generous, and greatly beloved were the O'Donoghues of Ross, and\ntheir memory is perpetuated among a people who do not easily forget.\nWander where you will, you find some association with the name,\nparticularly among rock and crag on the Lower Lake, of which\nO'Donoghue's Horse is the most remarkable. This rock has been fretted\nand worn away by the action of the waters into a curious semblance of\na horse in the act of drinking. Then there is O'Donoghue's prison, his\ntable, his pulpit--each with its story.\n\nYou will be told, too, how at the deepest part of this lake, more than\n60 fathoms down, at a spot between Ross and Innisfallen, a great\ncarbuncle may be seen, which on a dark night lights up the rocks at\nthe bottom of the lake, and shows the palaces and towers of the\nancient city which the waters now cover.\n\nRoss is the largest island on the lake. It contains about 80 acres. On\nthe southern point is a famous copper mine, opened in 1804 by Colonel\nHall, who found clear proof that it had been worked at a very remote\nperiod. Rude stone hammers of very ancient make were discovered--Danes'\nhammers, the people call them--and the traces of fire were found. The\nvein, however, gave out after four years, during which time, says\nCrofton Croker, \"nearly \u00a360,000 worth of ore was disposed of at\nSwansea, some cargoes producing \u00a340 per ton.\"\n\nThe country round the lakes is very rich in ores of various kinds.\nLead ore has been discovered, and the mountains abound with iron.\nSpecimens of ore which contain tin are also found.\n\nKillarney has treasures, however, which better suit the witchery of\nher beauty. Pearls are found in Lough Leane, and still more often in\nthe River Laune, which runs out of it. These are, of course, very\ninferior to the Oriental jewel, but now and again a fine specimen is\nobtained. \"A little Kerry pearle\" was not considered an unworthy\npresent to a great man in 1756; also \"a dozen Kerry stones,\" these\nprobably being the beautiful amethysts found in the cliffs near Kerry\nHead. These have always been valued. A set of ear-rings, a necklace,\nand other ornaments composed of these amethysts were presented to\nQueen Caroline (wife of George II.) by the Countess of Kerry, and most\ngraciously received. A like gracious reception was given to an Irish\npearl presented by the Bishop of Limerick to the great Anselm,\nArchbishop of Canterbury in 1074.\n\n  [Illustration: THE ISLAND OF INNISFALLEN.\n    In the lower lake of Killarney. It once possessed a monastery\n      where the \"Annals of Innisfallen,\" now at the Bodleian, were\n      written.]\n\nVery brilliant are the \"Kerry diamonds,\" and very pretty, but\nvalueless save to the children who pick them up, and perhaps to that\nfairy world whose standards are not the sordid ones of mortals. To\nthem these lovely crystals, whether clear or coloured, may be the true\ntreasure.\n\nBeautiful Innisfallen, with hill and glen, creek and harbour, and\ncliffs overhung by trees shading the many bays. The Gem of Killarney\nit is called. \"Not heaven's reflex, but a bit fallen out of heaven\nitself,\" were Macaulay's words, and they express the feeling called\nforth by its rich verdure, its wonders of foliage and of colour, the\nineffable beauty which clothes it as a mantle. Yet so great are its\ncontrasts that in this island of 24 acres are woods as gloomy as the\nancient Druidical forests, thick with giant ash and enormous hollies.\n\nAs you approach the island you seem to draw near such a forest, so\nclose are these great trees, extending into the water. On landing, you\nfind they encircle a lawn of the deepest and most vivid green. Open\nglades through the trees give enchanting vistas--the lofty peaks of\nToomies and Glena, the misty summits of the Purple Mountain, Ross\nCastle and its wooded shores, sunny islands and sparkling waters,\nsometimes so still as to reflect the woods and mountains as in a\nmirror. In the morning hour the mountains bordering on the Lower Lake\nare left in shadow, but as the day goes on the sun glides\nimperceptibly along the line of the great chain, and darts his rays on\nthat side of the mountains which lies next to the lake. All their bold\nirregularities are then revealed--their protruding rocks, their deep\nglens, and the lake is illuminated amid its dark and wooded isles by\nthe long gleams which pass athwart its waves.\n\nAt such hours it looks too fair a world for sin and sorrow, but yonder\nstands the Castle, with ruined battlements and many a grim sign of the\nstormy past, while fair Innisfallen itself contains a ruin where once\nholy men maintained a warfare equally deadly against the powers of\nevil, though fought with no mortal weapons.\n\nLittle remains of the Abbey of Innisfallen, founded in the sixth\ncentury by St. Finian. Even the walls are levelled save for the\nremains of an oratory, whose western gable contains a doorway with\nrich decorations. This monastery, however decayed, will always be\nfamous, because the _Annals of Innisfallen_ were written here.\n\nThe original work is in the Bodleian Library. It is on parchment and\nin medium quarto, and contains fifty-seven leaves. Extracts from the\nOld Testament and a history of the ancient world down to the arrival\nof St. Patrick in Ireland in 432 form the earlier part. From this\nperiod it deals exclusively with the affairs of Ireland, terminating\nwith 1319. It seems to have been the production of two monks, one\ncarrying it to 1216, the other continuing it to 1320. It is one of the\nearliest of Irish histories, and considered by savants as taking high\nrank among them.\n\nIn 1100 the Abbey was plundered by Mildwin O'Donoghue of a great\ntreasure of gold, silver, and rich goods of the adjacent country,\nwhich had been deposited there as secure sanctuary. Many of the clergy\nwere slain by the MacCarthys, \"But,\" writes the monk, \"God soon\npunished this act of sacrilege and impiety by bringing many of its\nauthors to an untimely end.\"\n\nWell, there is peace now in fair Innisfallen. The visitor bears away\nits impress with the memory of one of the fairest spots on earth.\n\n    \"Sweet Innisfallen, fare thee well,\n    May calm and sunshine still be thine;\n    How fair thou art let others tell,\n    To feel how fair yet still be mine.\"\n\nGlena, the \"glen of good fortune,\" is one of the most eagerly sought\nout beauty spots of Killarney. Glena Bay is the first part of the\nLower Lake if it is entered from the Long Range, but by whatever way\nyou reach it the picture which meets the eye is unsurpassed.\n\nThe mountains of Glena and Toomies are densely wooded to their base,\nthe trees hanging over their sides and coming down in rich luxuriance\nto the water's edge. A very forest of the finest arbutus, with berry\nand blossom together in autumn, with oak, ash, pine, birch and alder,\nwhite thorn, yew, and holly, it must be seen to realize the colour\neffect or the matchless tintings of gorse and heather, a great mosaic\nquivering in the sunshine. The varieties of this immense scenery of\nforest are impossible to describe, the woods extending about six miles\nin length, and from half a mile to a mile and a half in breadth, while\nthe inequalities of the ground produce wondrous effects of light and\nshadow.\n\nGlena is all soft loveliness, but rugged rock and crag, and the stern\ngrandeur of Torc Mountain on the other side, strike again that minor\nchord never far from Killarney's brightest scenes.\n\n  [Illustration: IN A TYPICAL COTTAGE.]\n\nLough Leane has upwards of thirty isles, large and small, and as the\nboat is rowed past Glena shore you see them in all their varied form\nand colour, from Ross to tiny Mouse Island. It is a fair sight. There\nis a little bay at the foot of the Toomies where you can land to reach\nO'Sullivan's Cascade, one of the greatest of the Killarney waterfalls,\nnot only from its size, but from the peculiar formation of the bed\ndown which it dashes. It really consists of three falls. \"The\nuppermost, passing over a bridge of rocks, falls about 20 feet\nperpendicularly into a natural basin; then, bursting between two\nhanging rocks, the torrent hastens down a second precipice into a\nsecond receptacle, from which it rolls over into the lowest chamber of\nthe fall. It is about 70 feet high. The roar of the descending water\ncan be heard from afar, and is almost deafening when near. Beneath a\nprojecting rock overhanging the lowest basin is a grotto, with a seat\nrudely cut in the rock. From this little grotto the view of the\ncascade is peculiarly beautiful. It appears a continued flight of\nthree foamy stories. The recess is overshadowed by an arch of foliage\nso thick as to interrupt the admission of light.\"\n\nThe forest about Toomies is still the haunt of the old red deer of\nIreland, and a grand stag hunt is occasionally organized, the cries of\nthe hounds, the shouting of the hunters, the firing of the signalling\ncannon, combining to awake the mountain echoes for many miles around.\nIt is a cruel sport, though the stag is now, as a rule, saved from\ndeath. Yet its gallant attempts to save itself, its struggles to get\nfree from the cordon of enemies around, its agonies of terror as,\nbounding for refuge to the heights, it is confronted by shouting men,\nand turned to confront the savage pack, are cruel enough. It leaps\nfrom rock to rock and chasm to chasm with sobbing breath and big\ntears, and plunges into the lake in desperation, to be met by the\nboats watching for it. Of late years it is set free, but it is not\nsentimentality to imagine that the grim experience it has passed\nthrough will render the life given to it a thing of terror, haunted by\nthe bay of the hounds and the shouts of the hunters.\n\n  [Illustration: MOUNTAIN HOMES OF THE KILLARNEY DISTRICT.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nTHE KILLARNEY FOLK\n\n\nThe people who dwell on the shores of these lovely lakes are a\nhandsome race, tall and finely formed, with clear-cut features and\ndark and most expressive eyes, often of the Irish grey or deep violet,\nwith long black lashes. Pencilled eyebrows and abundance of dark-brown\nhair usually accompany these, and that clear complexion which the\nmoist western breezes confer. They love music and dancing, the \"boys\nand girls,\" who, meeting on a roadside, only require a merry tune to\n\"foot it away\" and forget their cares.\n\nBut with all their lightheartedness their standard of duty is very\nhigh, and family ties are sacred. Seldom, if ever, is infidelity known\namong the married, and a certain honour is given to the head of the\npoorest household. Husband and wife each has a distinct place, which\nneither would dream of usurping, the husband having the chief, of\ncourse. In one case, however, and that a very important one to an\nIrishman, right of precedence is universally granted to the wife. This\nis when it happens that she is by birth of a superior tribe to her\nhusband. \"I am a MacCarthy; my husband is only a so-and-so,\" she will\nsay proudly.\n\nThere are many \"shealings\" around and on the sides of the mountains,\nwhere the \"mountainy men,\" as they are called, cultivate patches of\nland with a success due to their patient industry. They have hens, a\nfew goats, and perhaps some lean mountain sheep, and all these are\nliable to visitations from the eagles when rearing their young. Often,\ntoo, they have one or two cows of the Kerry breed, which find sweet\npickings among the rocks, and give more milk on the scant herbage than\nthe sleek and well-favoured kine of richer counties. This breed is\nsmall, with long horns and wild, handsome heads.\n\nSimple-hearted, generous and faithful are these men and women, with a\ndignified courtesy of manner which tells of the Eastern strain in\ntheir blood. Their courtesy and good manners are, indeed, very\ncharming. For instance, you may have been out all day with a man, and\nwhen you reach his home he will step in first, and, turning, offer you\nhis hand and bid you welcome, as though it were the first time he had\nmet you that day. He welcomes you, and then you will be placed in the\nseat of honour, and refreshments brought you, the refusal of which\nwould be an insult.\n\nThe love of classical learning among the peasantry was great. It\ncontinues still, though the classics are not cultivated in this\npractical age as in the days when they were taught by travelling\nscholars at the hedge schools. All the old writers on Killarney\nmention their wonder at meeting poorly-clad men and boys able to\nconverse fluently in Latin, and studying the best Latin, and even\nGreek, authors. The power of reading Homer in the original was greatly\ncoveted, and often attained. The magic of their surroundings may have\nhad much to do with kindling the peasant's imagination to passionate\ninterest in a dead language.\n\nThe first distinct mention of the sea-coast adjoining Killarney occurs\nin the works of Ptolemy, who wrote in the second century. He speaks\nof the river of Kenmare under the title of Iernus, while again it is\ncalled Fluctus Desmonda, or the River of Desmond. At this Iernus of\nPtolemy is placed by ancient authors the landing of several Milesian\ncolonists, and though Irish history before the Christian era is\nchiefly traditional, there seems some foundation for this.\n\nIf we believe the bards and seers, the Milesian immigration was the\nfifth which came to colonize Hibernia out of the overflowing tribes of\nAsia. Of the fourth, the Tuatha de Danans, they tell a curious tale.\nThese colonizers are depicted as accomplished sooth-sayers and\nnecromancers who came out of Greece. They could quell storms, cure\ndiseases, work in metals, foretell future events, and, by their\nsupernatural powers as well as by virtue of the Lia Fail, or Stone of\nDestiny, they subdued the Firbolgs, who had preceded them, and\nexercised sovereignty, till they in turn were displaced by the Gaelic\nor fifth immigration.\n\nSometimes these called themselves Gael, from an ancestor; sometimes\nMilesians, from Milesius, projector of the immigration; sometimes\nScota, from his wife. They came from Spain, and all their magical arts\ndid not save the Tuatha from defeat. \"In vain they surrounded\nthemselves and their coveted island with magic-made tempest and\nterrors; in vain they reduced it in size so as to be almost invisible\nfrom sea. Amergin, one of the sons of Milesius, was a Druid skilled in\nall the arts of the East, and, led by him, his brothers countermined\nthe magicians and beat them with their own weapons.\"\n\nAmong the mountains of South Kerry the peasants point out a stone\nwhere Queen Scota, daughter of Pharaoh of Egypt, and wife of Milesius\nof Spain, is believed to lie buried. She was killed in battle three\ndays after landing with her sons on this coast. Upon the flat of the\nstone is an Ogham inscription, which reads, \"Leacht Scoihin\" (\"The\ngrave mound of Scota\"). Ogham experts think this inscription a\nforgery, but the old tradition makes it at least probable that within\nsound of the thunder of the Atlantic, far from her own people, lies\nthe daughter of the Pharaohs.\n\nFrom an antiquarian point of view Kerry is one of the most interesting\nplaces in the British Isles, and very rich in relics of the past. An\narch\u00e6ological society has been formed, which is endeavouring to rescue\nthe relics and monuments from neglect and decay. Killarney has been\nfound a singularly promising field to explore, though much has\nperished.\n\nThe Celtic nature is curiously complex, and those who do not\nthemselves possess it find it hard to understand. It has one quality\nin which no other race has ever equalled it, and that is a marvellous\npower of absorbing alien nationalities to itself, so that, while\nconquered, it yet conquers. It is a matter of current knowledge that\nthe English became more Irish than the Irish themselves. They\nintermarried with the families of native chiefs, gave their children\nto be nursed by Irish foster-mothers, spoke the Irish tongue, espoused\nthe Irish interests. Had this power of amalgamation been encouraged,\nand not sternly repressed by the English Government, there was a\nperiod when it might have changed completely the destiny of Ireland;\nbut it was not to be.\n\nThere is an interesting poem by an Irishman, \"The Geraldines,\" from\nwhich I quote one verse:\n\n    \"These Geraldines! these Geraldines! not long our air they breathed,\n    Not long they fed on venison in Irish water seethed,\n    Not often had their children been by Irish mothers nursed,\n    When from their full and genial hearts an Irish feeling burst.\n    The English monarchs strove in vain, by law, and force, and bribe,\n    To win from Irish thoughts and ways this more than Irish tribe;\n    For still they cling to fosterage, to _breitheamh_, cloak, and bard;\n    What King dare say to Geraldine, 'Your Irish wife discard'?\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nTHE FAIRIES--AND FAREWELL!\n\n\nThe Raths, or \"fairy forts,\" of Killarney have hitherto seldom been\nexplored. They are circular grassy mounds enclosing a field, generally\nsmall. Underneath are found stone chambers, their beehive roofs and\nwalls made of unmortared stone. It is supposed that here the ancient\nCelts fortified themselves and their cattle, retreating in winter into\nthe stone chambers. Be this as it may, for centuries the Irish have\nbelieved them to be tenanted by a fairy race, whose palaces are here,\nand who guard hidden treasure.\n\nThese are the Sidhe, or people of the hill, the noblest among these\nmysterious folk. Some say they are the spirits of the Tuatha de Danan,\nthat strange race which occupied Ireland till the Milesians came,\nwhen, conquered by a greater magic than their own, they disappeared.\nStrange to say, no mortal descendant of these people has ever been\ntraced in any Irish family.\n\n  [Illustration: CUTTING PEAT FROM THE BOG.\n    It takes less than a week for a man to cut his fuel supply for a\n      whole year.]\n\nBut there is another race, and these are the fairies proper, very\nhuman in their traits, tricky and malicious if slighted or offended,\nbut good friends if treated properly. I cannot resist quoting a story\n(\"Hanafin and his Cows\") told in a late Kerry Arch\u00e6ological Magazine\nby Lady Gordon--a tale of the fairies, originally collected in Kerry\nby Mr. J. Curtin.\n\n\"Hanafin was a farmer owning a large herd of cows, which were driven\nup every morning to be milked in front of his house. For several days\nthe tub into which the milk was poured was mysteriously overturned and\nthe milk spilled. Hanafin's wife was naturally excessively indignant,\nbut, in spite of every precaution, the milk continued to be upset. One\nmorning, however, as Hanafin was walking past a fairy fort, he heard a\nchild crying inside it, and a woman's voice saying: 'Be quiet awhile!\nHanafin's cows are going home; we'll soon have milk in plenty.'\nHanafin went home and personally supervised the milking, and on the\nusual overturning stopped his wife from scolding, telling her this\ntime it was no fault of the girls, who had been pushed by one of the\ncows against the tub. 'Leave it to me,' he said; 'I'll try and manage\nthe business.'\n\n\"The following morning, on hearing the child cry again in the fort,\nHanafin, 'like the brave man he was,' went inside. He saw no one, but\nhe said, 'A child is crying for milk. A cow of mine will calve\nto-morrow. I'll let no one milk that cow; you can do what you like\nwith her milk.'\n\n\"The tub was never overturned again, and for two years Hanafin\nprospered in every way, taking good care of the cow, and never letting\nher be milked.\n\n\"Unfortunately, however, Hanafin, being soft-hearted, went security\nfor some of his neighbours who had got into trouble, with the result\nthat their creditors came down on him, and the bailiffs arrived one\nday to drive off his cattle. Hanafin repaired to the fort, and said:\n'I'm going to lose all my cattle, but I'll try and keep the cow I gave\nyou, and feed her still, so that the child may have the milk.'\n\n\"Three bailiffs came and went down to the pasture across the field,\nbut when they drove the cows up as far as the fairy fort 'each\nbailiff was caught and thrown hither and over by people he couldn't\nsee. One moment he was at one side of the ditch, the next at the\nother. They were so roughly handled and bruised that they were hardly\nalive, and they not seeing who or what was doing it! The cattle,\nraising their tails, bawled and ran off to the pasture.'\n\n\"The following morning ten policemen and bailiffs went to take\nHanafin's cattle, with exactly the same results, so that the men\n'barely left the place alive.' Never again did police or bailiff\nmeddle with Hanafin's cattle, and the creditors never collected their\nmoney.\"\n\nThese are the familiar fairies who stole children out of their\ncradles, young matrons from their husbands, and girls from their\nlovers; who bewitched cows and blighted potatoes, but who \"did you\nmany a good turn too.\" The peasant will not lightly lose faith in\nthem, nor will the fairies lightly forsake the land of beauty, of\nsunshine, and of shadow. Quickly as events march and ideas change in\nthis wonderful age, hurrying we know not where, and though here and\nthere someone may be found to dare--or say he will--enter a fairy fort\nor cut down a fairy thorn, I think that with the boldest of these\nunbelievers it is a case of the man who denied the power of the priest\nto turn him into a rat, but who, saying \"It's as well to make sure,\"\ntook the precaution of shutting up the cat at night. \"Taking it all\nround,\" writes Lady Gordon, \"it would be a drab world if there were no\nfairies in it, no supernatural region in which nothing is too\npreposterous to occur.... Earth-bound humanity, seeking to escape from\nearth cares, still dreams in one form or other of a land of strange\nhappenings.\"\n\nHow much remains still to be said about Killarney, its varied\ninterests, its shifting, matchless scenery! The lover of beauty and\nromance, the historian, the arch\u00e6ologist, the antiquary--it is a field\nfor each. It has begun to dawn on the mind of many explorers what\ngreat questions hinge on Celtic antiquities, what light they may shed\nupon the ancient history of Europe, while students of the Irish\nlanguage say it will yet prove the key to ancient ones which are\npuzzling philologists. Killarney is rich in Ogham inscriptions, in\ncurious old remains and relics (utilized hitherto by mason and\nbuilder). Such as are not hopelessly lost are gradually being\nunearthed by the ardent seekers of to-day.\n\nWhatever changes may be in the future, Killarney must ever remain a\nland of enchantment. Perhaps a few recent words of Alfred Austin may\nfitly close this attempt to sketch the principal features of this fair\nland.\n\n\"The tender grace of wood and water is set in a framework of hills,\nnow stern, now ineffably gentle, now dimpling with smiles, now\nfrowning and rugged with impending storm, now muffled and mysterious\nwith mist, only to meet you again with brilliant sunshine. Here the\ntrout leaps, there the eagle soars, and there beyond the wild deer\ndash through the arbutus covert, through which they have come to the\nmargin of the lake to drink, and, scared by your footstep or your oar,\nare away back to bracken or heather-covered moorland. But the first,\nthe final, the deepest and most enduring impression of Killarney is\nthat of beauty unspeakably tender, which puts on at times a garb of\ngrandeur and a look of awe, only to heighten by contrast its soft\nloveliness. How the missel thrushes sing, as well they may! How the\nstreams and runnels leap and laugh! For the sound of journeying water\nis never out of your ears, the feeling of the moist, the fresh, the\nvernal is never out of your heart.\"\n\nNo, never! True words are these with which reluctantly to say farewell\nto beautiful Killarney.\n\n\n\n\nINDEX\n\n\n    Aghadoe, 12\n\n    Antiquities of Kerry, 53\n\n    Arbutus, The, 26\n\n    Austin, Alfred, 61\n\n\n    Black Valley, 20\n\n\n    Chess in Ancient Ireland, 19\n\n    Clancarty, Earl of, 36\n\n    Classical learning amongst older generation, 51\n\n    Coleman's Eye, 28\n\n\n    Devil's Punch Bowl, 36\n\n    Devil's Stream, 37\n\n    Dunloe Castle, 14\n\n    Dunloe, Gap of, 17\n\n\n    Eagle Island, 27\n\n\n    Fairies, The, 56\n\n    Foliage of mountain-sides, 24\n\n\n    \"Geraldines, The,\" 54\n\n    Glena, 46\n\n    Golf Links, 12\n\n    Guides, The, 39\n\n\n    \"Hanafin and His Cows,\" 57\n\n\n    Innisfallen, Abbey of, 44\n\n    Innisfallen, Annals of, 44\n\n    Innisfallen Island, 43\n\n    Islands, The, 23\n\n\n    Kate Kearney's cottage, 16\n\n    Killarney folk, 49\n\n\n    Lakes and mountains, 23\n\n    Last Irish snake, 20\n\n    \"Light of Love,\" 29\n\n    Logan Stone, 21\n\n    Long Range, The, 28\n\n    \"Lord Brandon's Cottage,\" 22\n\n    Lough Leane, 47\n\n    Ludlow, Parliamentary General, 39\n\n\n    Macaulay, Lord, his words on Innisfallen, 43\n\n    MacCarthy's Island, 27\n\n    MacGillicuddy's Reeks, 18\n\n    Mineral treasures, 37, 41\n\n    Moore, Thomas, the poet, 16\n\n    Muckross Abbey, 33\n\n    Muskerry, Lord, the Royalist, 39\n\n\n    O'Donoghue and his white charger, 6, 40\n\n    O'Donoghues of Ross, The, 40\n\n    Ogham inscriptions, 15, 53\n\n    Origin of the lakes, legendary, 9\n\n    _Osmundi Regalia_, 28\n\n    O'Sullivan's Cascade, 47\n\n\n    Precious Stones of Kerry, 42, 43\n\n    Ptolemy's map of Ireland, 51\n\n    Purple Mountain, 18\n\n\n    Raths, or fairy forts, 56\n\n    Ross Castle, 38\n\n\n    Scota, Queen, daughter of Pharaoh, 53\n\n    Settlements of Ireland, early, 52\n\n    Sidhe, the, or People of the Hill, 56\n\n    Stag-hunting, 48\n\n    Stillman, the famous war correspondent, 7\n\n\n    Toomies Mountain, 18, 46\n\n    Torc Cascade, 36\n\n    _Trichomanes speciosum_, or Brutle Fern, 29\n\n\n    Voice of Nature, The, 7\n\n\nBILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Note\n\nMinor punctuation errors have been fixed.\n\nThe following amendments have been made, for consistency:\n\n    Page 24--McGillicuddy's amended to MacGillicuddy's--... even\n    in point of height the MacGillicuddy's Reeks ...\n\n    Page 50--McCarthy amended to MacCarthy--\"I am a MacCarthy; my\n    husband is only a so-and-so,\" ...\n\nThe frontispiece illustration has been moved to follow the title page.\nOther illustrations have been moved where necessary so that they are\nnot in the middle of a paragraph.\n\nThe List of Illustrations notes that \"The Eagle's Nest, Killarney\"\nappears \"On the cover.\" This is preserved as printed; however the\nillustration was actually located facing page 22, and the transcriber\nhas left it in this location.\n\nDitto marks in the Index have been replaced with the appropriate words.","title":"Killarney","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":11490}