Strancally Castlee
Photo—Lawrence, Dublin.
The service of steamers from Youghal to Cappoquin up theRiver Blackwaterdepends at present mainly on the state of the tide. But despite this and other things, the scenery on the river side will well repay inconvenience. Having left the ferry behind, the first place of interest is Rhincrew (The Bloody Point), and on the wooded hill the ruins of a preceptory of the Knights Templars still remain. Higher up on the western bank of the Glendine tributary stands Temple Michael,an old fortalice of the Geraldines, which Cromwell battered down for "dire insolence."
Blackwater River
Photo—Lawrence, Dublin.
There is a legend which tells that the last of the Geraldines was buried at Ardmore, far from his young bride, who lost her life during the siege by the regicides. The story says, after his burial, at night his voice could be heard clearly, calling across the river, to bring him back and bury him by his own. For seven years the awe-struck peasants heard the plaintive voice calling, in the tender tongue of the Gael, "Garault, come to me,"—"Gerald, a ferry!" At last, some young men of his clan went to Ardmore and brought his dead body to Temple Michael, where his wife was buried, and henceforth his spirit no longer troubled the silent vigils of the fishermen at night.
The bend in the waterway brings one into sight of rich pastures and fine demesnes. Ballintray, "The Town of the Strand" has in its vicinity Molana Abbey, where the warrior, Raymond Le Gros, lies buried. At the broads of Clashmore, the highest water-mark to which the inflowing tide comes, one can easily imagine themselves upon an inland lake. Beyond is Strancally Castle, beetling over the river, set firmly in a foundation of crags. The local tradition carriers will gladly point out "The Murdering Hole," a natural fissure in the rocks, and here they will tell you that the departed Desmonds destroyed their guests after robbing them! Above the confluence of the Bride with the Blackwater, Villierstown and Camphire villages are passed, then the Awbeg joins its little flood, and beyond the island Dromana Ford is reached. Near is Dromana Castle, where "the old Countess of Desmond" was born. In the table-book of Robert Sydney, second Earl of Leyicester, written when Ambassador at Paris, about 1640, there is the following reference to her:—
"The old Countess of Desmond was a marryed woman in Edward IV. time of England, and lived till towards the end of Queen Elizabeth, so as she must needes be neare one hundred and fortyyears old. She had a new sett of teeth not long afore her death, and might have lived much longer had she not mett with a kind of violent death, for she would needes climbe a nut-tree to gather nuts, so falling down she hurt her thigh, which brought a fever, and that fever brought death. This my cousin, Walter Fitzwilliam, told me. This old lady, Mr. Haniot told me, came to petition the Queen, and, landing at Bristoll, she came on foot to London, being then so old that her daughter was decrepit, and not able to come with her."
"The old Countess of Desmond was a marryed woman in Edward IV. time of England, and lived till towards the end of Queen Elizabeth, so as she must needes be neare one hundred and fortyyears old. She had a new sett of teeth not long afore her death, and might have lived much longer had she not mett with a kind of violent death, for she would needes climbe a nut-tree to gather nuts, so falling down she hurt her thigh, which brought a fever, and that fever brought death. This my cousin, Walter Fitzwilliam, told me. This old lady, Mr. Haniot told me, came to petition the Queen, and, landing at Bristoll, she came on foot to London, being then so old that her daughter was decrepit, and not able to come with her."
Dromana House, on the eastern branch of the river, is situated on a beautiful height, which commands the reaches of the river from Cappoquin to Youghal. At more than one point on the river there were opportunities of seeing in the distance the cloisters ofMount Melleray—"the little town of God," lonely above the mists and shadows of the hills. As we walkor drive, the hillside behind the river winds its way through cliffs and well-wooded lands in front, the mountains unfold themselves range behind range. No one who has ever visited Mount Melleray will forget it or the generous Brothers. The Trappists, expelled from France in 1830, first settled on the borders of Kerry, but subsequently colonised this barren hillside, and already they have transformed it into a fine farm, containing rich pastures and thriving plantations. The monastery may be visited by gentlemen visitors, and cannot fail to prove of extraordinary interest. There are two guest houses, one for gentlemen and the other for ladies. No charge is made for their bed or board, and all creeds, classes, and nationalities are received with acaed mille failté. Every week a sermon in Irish is preached to the mountaineers.
Mount Melleray
Photo—Roche, Dublin.
Either from Melleray or Cappoquin,Lismoremay be reached by car or train. It was the home of learning of old, and to-day, not only its beautiful position but historic Castle command attention. It is the birthplace of Boyle, the philosopher. Ptolemy is asserted very confidently by some authorities to have mentioned this place and its river. It is certain, however, that the place was long in existence in 631, when St. Carthage, of Rahan, fled thither. Nothing could be prettier than the appearance of the town, and it is a comfortable, well-to-do place, monopolising the trade of a large countryside. St. Machuda's Cathedral will repay inspection. The Castle is the Irish seat of the Duke of Devonshire. It was an ancient fortress, dating back to the reign of King John. It stands in a pre-eminently commanding position, over the Blackwater, and was the scene of many a hard-fought fight, especially in the wars of the Commonwealth, when Castlehaven captured it from the Roundheads. A magnificent view of the surrounding country may be had from its higher-storied windows. The public are freely admitted. From one of the high windows, it is said, when James II. wasasked to look, he accused the maker of the suggestion of desiring to throw him from the dizzy height.
From the Railway Station at Lismore, the most interesting object in view is the new Roman Catholic Cathedral, dedicated to St. Carthage, the founder of the See, and believed to occupy the site of his cell. Thickly surrounded by beautiful lime trees, the warm red sandstones of the walling, with the limestone dressing of the windows and doorways, forms a brilliant picture. The interior is richly furnished, and altogether the church is well worthy of a visit.
The Guest House
Photo—Roche, Dublin.
Chapter header
Waterford is the port of call for most of the shipping from the West and South of England and Wales. The projected system by which steamers will run direct from Fishguard to Rosslare Harbour, whatever effect it may have upon Waterford as a port, will bring it by many hours nearer to the English markets. It is only a question of a few years until this route will be at the disposal of tourists and travellers from across the Channel. Under the Amalgamation of Railways Act of 1900, Waterford has the additional advantage of becoming a terminus of the system. With it as centre, railway services are supplied to Cork County and Lismore, to LimerickviaCarrick-on-Suir and Clonmel, and to KilkennyviaKilmacow and Thomastown.
Waterford
Photo—Croker, Waterford.
Waterford
Photo—Roche, Dublin.
"The Star of the Suir"—the City ofWaterford—derived its name from the Danish words, Vedr-fiord, given to it by its original founders, the hardy Norsemen. From whatever side we approach the old town, whether land or sea, the sight is equally delightful. From without, approaching by the broad waterway, the city stretches forth to meet us, with the quaint wooden bridge spanning the noble river, and the hills forming a zone behind. Surely the Danes had an eye for beauty, as formaritime advantage, in selecting this happy spot for their fortress. In the ninth century, when the ploughers of the sea seized on the mouth of the Suir, they fortified a little delta some twenty acres in size, having the present Quay as its long side. From this little triangle the town grew, and in the last century was one of the first seaport towns in Ireland. Here, in 1171, Strongbow landed, defeated the Danes and Irish, who had confederated to repel him, and sacked the town. It is a strange historical coincidence that the Feast of St. Bartholomew was the day on which Strongbow landed and countenanced the massacre of the inhabitants. Under Raymond Le Gros the carnage was carried out, and in St. Lawrence O'Toole's address to the Irish princes at peace with the invader, which has beenversified by Sir Charles Gavan Duffy, it is referred to in the lines:—
"Tell me not of leagues and treaties,Treaties sealed in faith as trueAs Black Raymond's, on the bloodyFeast of St. Bartholomew."
The Quays
Photo—Croker, Waterford.
King John landed here, and the town was walled in and fortified against the Irish, who hung like wolves around a fold in the outlying country. In the Revolution the town adhered to the King. It was the port most used by the Confederates, and here many of their proclamations were printed. It was the one place in Ireland which successfully resisted the all-conquering Cromwell, and hence received the name from the Cavaliers ofUrbs intacta. An object of historic interest which has been restored within the present century is Reginald's Tower. It was built originally by Reginald the Dane, son of Sitrius, the great Danish King of Dublin and Fingal (The Fair Strangers), whom Brian Boru defeated at Clontarf. Here, it is said, DeClair married Eva, whose fair face induced him to join his forces to her father's fallen fortunes. Maclise, in his wonderful historical picture "Bartered Away,"[4]represents the nuptials as taking place on the battlefield, dyed with the blood of the vanquished Irish. There could not have been much love in the match after all. Strongbow was scarcely dead when his young widow wrote to Raymond Le Gros that "a great tooth had fallen out," which he understood to mean that the time had arrived for him to come and make her his own, which he did. The patron saints of the diocese of Waterford and Lismore are Saint Cartach and Saint Otteran, the latter being a Dane who embraced Christianity. The Cathedral (Episcopalian) occupies the site of the old Danish Cathedral, the existence of which, together with that of Christ Church in Dublin, bears testimony to the zeal with which the Danes embraced Christianity. The Quay is the most characteristic bit of Waterford. Across the bridge, from Mount Misery or Cromwell's Rock, two points of vantage, excellent views of the surroundings can be had. The Suir, shining silvery, steals in and out among the hills and by the old town into the sea. The most interesting of the ancient monuments in Waterford is what is commonly called the "French Church," which, more correctly, is entitled "The Holy Ghost Friary." Authorities agree in assigning the date of its foundation to 1240, but its history has never been written. After the Edict of Nantes, the fugitive Huguenots formed a little colony in Waterford. The Corporation granted a salary to their minister, and they were provided with a place of worship in the choir of the old church. Allthat remain of this once gorgeous pile of buildings are the ruins of the tower, Lady Chapel, chancel, and nave. The style is Early English, and the most attractive feature is the graceful three-lighted east window. The Catholic Cathedral is worth a visit. Within easy reach of the Quay is Ballybricken, the heart of the bacon industry, and the home of the best known body of pig-buyers in Ireland. These men are almost a community to themselves. They have their own traditions, and are more like an organisation which would have sprung up from a church guild centuries ago than in any way a modern trades union. Formerly Waterford was remarkable for the manufacture of beautiful cut glass, but the industry has died away. The housekeeper who possesses specimens of the art considers herself lucky indeed in her possession, as collectors are continually on the alert to procure them. In the immediate vicinity of Waterford itself there are many beauty spots and places of interest. In the suburb of Newtown stands the paternal home of Lord Roberts of Waterford and Candahar, besides whom on its roll of famous children Waterford includes the names of Charles Keane and Vincent Wallace. Portlaw, four and a half miles away, on the south bank of the Suir, was once the centre of a thriving cotton industry. Here an order may be had at the estate office to visit Curraghmore, the residence of the Marquis of Waterford. The magnificent demesne includes over four thousand acres, and Curraghmore is possessed of the best-blooded stud of hunters in Ireland.
Imperial Hotel
Photo—Croker, Waterford.
Curraghmore
Photo—Croker, Waterford.
Tramore
Photo—Croker, Waterford.
Tramore, seven miles away, is reached by train in fifteen minutes. It is one of the most popular watering places in the South of Ireland, and in the height of the season it is estimated that about four thousand visitors augment the normal population of two thousand. Many of the Waterford merchants live there, and their villas and the houses of the town, rising one street above another on the side of the hill, make a pretty picture when viewed from the strand. The hotels arenumerous, the Grand Hotel can be recommended as being specially comfortable, while there are three or four other hotels where very good accommodation can be had. The lodging-house accommodation is equal to that to be obtained at any Irish seaside resort.
Evening at Tramore
Photo—Croker, Waterford.
In addition to capital sea and trout fishing, the visitor can enjoy the pleasures of golf and lawn-tennis, and during the summer months races are frequently held at the Tramore Flying Course, which is situated within view of the town. The views of this pleasantly situated holiday reunion will recall to many minds happy days spent by the Sounding Sea.
The Rabbit Burrow, a little further on, is a mile in length, and helps to divide the Back Strand from the spacious bay. Just before reaching this Burrow, the visitor will see a tombstone erected to the memory of those who were lost in the "Sea Horse" transport, in January, 1816, when returning from the Peninsular Campaign. No less than 362 lost their lives in this terrible disaster. At the western side of Tramore there are many places along the rock-bound coast well worth a visit. Passing along in the Newtown direction we come in view of the Ladies' Cove; here, years ago, a fishing pier was built by the Board of Works. It was swept right away one stormy night over two decades ago, and has not been replaced since. Along the Cliff Road we catch views of Gun's Cove, and the Gillameen Cove, where excellent bathing facilities, free of charge, can be availed of by the visitor.
On the western shore, twelve miles by road from Waterford, is the pretty watering place ofDunmore. It is situated at the mouth of the river Suir in a valley gently sloping to the sea, and is protected from the north winds by a wood which, in the hot summer days, is a most delightful resort for visitors. There is also a public park and tennis ground, and the facilities for bathing, particularly for gentlemen, leave nothing to be desired.
Evening at Tramore
Photo—Croker, Waterford.
Dunmore
Photo—Croker, Waterford.
In the early part of the last century the place was a mail packet station for the mails to and from England. The harbour was built by the Government at a cost of about £100,000, and is at present under the control of the Board of Works. Here, in the fishing season, are boats from all parts of the Kingdom fishing for herring and mackerel, and special steamers are constantly running to and from Milford with the harvest of the sea.
There are some particularly good villas and houses which can be rented in the season, and there is a good hotel just over the harbour, while rooms are to be had on reasonable terms at many houses in the town. For persons who desire a select quiet place to spend a holiday in, it can be recommended strongly, while for those who are fond of sea-fishing or yachting no better place in Ireland can be had. Although there is no railway connection with Waterford cars run daily, the fare being only1s.for the twelve miles.
Above the confluence of the Barrow and Suir, six and a half miles from the city, from the top of the hill over Cheekpoint (Side a fairy)—where "the river Rosse meets the river of Waterford"—a grand panorama presents itself. In the distance the mountains shoulder one another for prominence; the Comeraghs, the many peaked Galtees, and
"Sweet Slievenamon, the darling and pride,With soft flowing bosom and brow like a bride."
This beautiful mountain owes its name, "The Hill of the Women," to a Finnian legend, which tells that Finn M'Cool promised to make his wife of whichever of the fair women of Ireland could reach its summit first, when all were started from the foot. Grainne Oge, the Gaelic Helen, of course was heroine of the day, and Finn's taking her was the origin of one of the most enthralling of the Celtic romances.
Dunmore Harbour
Photo—Croker, Waterford.
Among the more interesting objects at Dunbrody are St. Catherine's Church, an old time dependency of theAbbey, and the splendid remains of the Cistercian Monastery, rising above the meadows by which the Campile Stream flows. The monastic church in general style is Early English, and is fairly preserved. It dates from the twelfth century, and was founded by Henri de Montmorenzi, Marshal to Henry II.—the same who was killed at the Curragh.
There is a severe simplicity about its lines which gives an impression of great dignity. The crenelated Tower springs from the nave and transept. The Abbots of Dunbrody sat as Lords in Parliament, and exercised civil jurisdiction. Above Dunbrody, on the river opposite "The Little Island," where was an ancient hermitage, in a straight line is Ballinakill House, where James II. spent his last night in Ireland, on the day before that celebrated in the ballad, which tells:—
"Righ Shemus he has gone to France,And left his crown behind,Ill luck be their's, both day and night,Put running in his mind."
Passage East(seven miles), now a fishing village, with spider-legged spit light, was reduced by Cromwell in 1649. The old mole still stands. At Ballyhack, across the ferry, a strong, square castle is well preserved. "New Geneva," in the vicinity, was garrisoned with Hessians during the Rebellion of '98. It is mentioned in the well-known Irish song, "The Croppy Boy." The place received its name in 1786, when a colony of Genoese exiles were established there. On the Waterford coast, from the city to where the Blackwater kisses the sea, beside a range of noble cliffs, there are many points of interest. The Tower of Hook, standing one hundred feet high, on the promontory of the same name on the Wexford side, is attributed amongst others to Reginald the Dane, Ross MacRume, the founder of New Ross, and Florence de la Hague (1172). Its circular walls are of great thickness and strength. When Strongbowheard of this Tower of Hook, with Crook (Norse, Krok a nook) on the western side, he is alleged to have said "He would take Waterford by Hook or Crook," and thus originated a common saying which has come down to our own days. The Saltees, two islands off the Wexford coast, were the refuge to which Colclough and Bagnall Harvey hastened in vain after the suppression of the Rebellion in '98. Helvick Head, the name of which also betrays its Danish origin, marks the entrance to Dungarvan Bay. The line running from Waterford to Limerick Junction contains many places of interest, from which short tours may be made. As we come near toCarrick-on-Suirthe castle comes into view. The present building was mainly erected by the former Earl of Ormonde, "Black Tom," as he is known in history. He was one of the many Irish gallants who found favour in the eyes of Queen Elizabeth. From Carrick, a drive of eight miles brings us to Lough Coumshinawn, a lonely tarn lying high among the Comeragh mountains, on one side of which the cliff rises perpendicularly to a height of seven hundred feet. The railway from Carrick runs through the beautiful valley of the Suir to Kilsheelan, and then passes to the left of the Knockmealdown mountains toClonmel, the capital of the "premier county." The town is pleasantly placed in a thriving centre of local trade. It figured largely in the fights between Cromwellian and Confederate, and some of the old battlements still stand witness to its strength in bygone times. The peasantry have a tradition that a cloud will ever hang above the town since Father Sheehy's death in the last century. The tradition is hinted at in the beautiful emigrant ballad "Shameen Dhu," by Katherine Tynan:—
"Now, God watch over you, Shameen,An' His blessed Mother Mary!'Twas you that had the lightest heartIn all sweet Tipperary—'Twas you could sing the blackbird's song,In dry or rainy weather:Avic, the long-road wasn't longWhin we thravelled it together.Sure, scores of times in the mornin' brightYou sung this very road,You med the mare's heart bate so lightShe never felt her load;'Twas you could lilt wid the thrush's trill,Ah, well, avic machree!God grant you may be singin' stillIn that lonely far counthrie!"
Holy Cross Abbey
Photo—Roche, Dublin.
The name of Laurence Sterne, author of "Tristram Shandy," and of the gorgeous Countess of Blessington, are both associated with Clonmel as their birthplace. Through a mountain cut, appropriately called "The Wilderness," the railway line runs aside to Thurles. The little church of Rathronan, standing high on the hill, was the scene of the sensational Arbuthnot abduction in the last century. Those who wish for details of that unhappy love affair will find the story told in faithful words elsewhere. The demesne lands between Clonmel and Fethard are many.Fethardwas an old walled town, it defied the Cromwellians, and surrendered with all the honours of war. After treaty and terms were agreed on, the Roundheads found that what they had mistaken as gaping mouths of cannon on the fortress were nothing more dangerous than innocent churns placed in positions of pretence, not defence. The bogland from Fethard to Thurles is uninteresting; the intermediate stations are Farranalleen, Laffan's Bridge, and Horse and Jockey, at which collieries are still being worked. At Thurles we meet the main line of the Great Southern and Western.Thurles, originally a Danish town and the scene of the battle between the Norsemen and Irish, afterwards became a fortalice of the Knights Templars. Here, by the bridge across the Suir, the remains of the old settlement are still to be seen. Four miles distant, standing by the banks of the river,surrounded by tall trees, are the remains of the once great CistercianHoly Cross Abbey. It was built in 1168-69 to house the relic of the True Cross sent by the Pope to Brian Boru's grandson, Donald, King of Thomond. This interesting relic, after centuries of vicissitudes, is now enshrined at the Convent of the Ursulines, in Blackrock, Cork. On the feasts of the Finding of the True Cross (May 3rd), and of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross (September 14th), and on every Friday in Lent, it is presented for public veneration. Thurles is the seat of Episcopal residence of the Archdiocese of Cashel. On the main line higher than Thurles is Templemore, founded by the Knights Templars. Between Thurles and the Limerick Junction is Goold's Cross station, six miles from Cashel. The noblestevidence of the early civilization of Ireland is to be found inCashel Of the Kings. Generally the buildings date from the early twelfth century, the Round Tower being much earlier and the Cathedral later. Cormac's Chapel was consecrated in 1134, being built by the Saint King of Munster. It is rich Norman work, comprising nave, chancel, and towers at the transepts. The doorways and chancel arch are elaborate. The Round Tower is unique when compared with the other buildings, as it is of sandstone. It is connected with the transept of the Cathedral. The pointed windows, choir, transepts, and tower are very beautiful. In the burial-ground outside is the famous Cross of Cashel, with a sculptured effigy of St. Patrick. The whole group gathered together on the massive Rock of Cashel, whose firmnessis a proverb in Ireland, presents an imposing array. This Cathedral was the one burnt by the Earl of Kildare in 1495, when his excuse was that he thought the Archbishop was within. Here, in 1647, a bloody tragedy fell out. Murragh-an-Theathaun, "Murrough of the Burnings," as the peasantry still call Lord Inchiquin, massacred a number of women and children, who sought sanctuary here when Cashel had fallen before his siege train. At the foot of the rock are the cruciform remains of the Abbey of the Cistercians. If, instead of diverging from Clonmel to Thurles, we continue to the Limerick Junction, we pass Cahir, a military station with an ancient Castle in excellent repair. From Cahir, tourists can drive to Cashel, to Ardfinane, or toMitchelstownviaClogheen. The Caves at Mitchelstown may be visited from Fermoy, Lismore, or Clogheen, and if the visitor is sojourning at any of these places he should find his way to these wonderful formations. Besides the caves, Mitchelstown contains Caherderinny Castle, Kilbehiny, and Mitchelstown Castle, the residence of the Kingston family. Leaving the village of Kilbehiny we cross to Skereenarinka, "the height for dancing," and follow a narrow hilly road on the Galtee side which leads to the caves, in the townland of Coolagarranroe. The different chambers of the larger caves, of which the Kingston gallery is most beautiful, have been named: "the House of Lords," "the House of Commons," "the Cross of the Four Roads," "the Scotchman's," "O'Leary's," and "O'Callaghan's" caves, "the Altar," "the Closet," "the Cellar," and "the Garret." The smaller objects of interest within have been called: "Lot's Wife," "Mary Queen of Scots," "the Bed of Honour," "the Cat and Kittens," "the Flitch of Bacon," &c. From Clogheen to Tipperary we cross the Suir, and follow the foot of the Galtees. The surrounding country is picturesque and contains some of the finest pasture land in Ireland, being part of what is known in Munster as the "Golden Vale." Four miles away bya beautiful road, through the rising-grounds, the Glen of Aherlow can be reached. The glen is richly wooded, and from Newbridge over the Aherlow river, Galteemore (3,015 feet), the highest peak of the range may be reached. Tipperary town is a good market place, and is pleasantly situated beneath Slievenamon. The only relic of its former grandeur is that of the Augustinian Friary, a foundation of Henry the Third's reign.
Rock of Cashel
Photo—Roche, Dublin.
Dungarvan
Photo—Lawrence, Dublin.
For information as to Sport to be had in the Waterford District, see end of this volume, where particulars are given as to Golf, Fishing, Shooting, Cycling, &c.
For information as to Sport to be had in the Waterford District, see end of this volume, where particulars are given as to Golf, Fishing, Shooting, Cycling, &c.
Chapter header
Pictorial Map of Killarney DistrictPictorial Map of Killarney District.
Killarney.—From Limerick Junction to Mallow, where the branch line runs into Kerry, the tourist to Killarney runs by many places of interest.Emly, now a dwindled village, was once a diocesan city. During the wars of the Commonwealth, Terence Albertus O'Brien, Bishop of Emly, was executed in Limerick by Ireton. His stole and pectoral cross are still in the possession of representatives of the family to which he belonged at Mitchelstown.
In the rich plain under the Ballyhoura hills, "the land flowing with milk," is the ancient town ofKilmallock. It was the citadel of the Earls of Desmond when they held high their crests, and every stone in the place is historical.
Two of its four gates still remain, and among the ruins, which have secured it the name of the "Baalbec of Ireland," are those of the old Dominican Priory and Abbey Church. In the former is the mutilated grave of the White Knight, a name still loathsome in the peasant's ear, and on whom the bards have let fall their choicest curses.
Lough Gur is of interest to the antiquary. It is ten miles to the north, and was the centre of the Desmond country. Here of old, the Kings of Cashel kept their Grenan or "Sunny Place" for feasting. The cyclopean structure in the vicinity points to the place as being of importance in pre-historic times. From Charleville, a thriving town, runs a line of railway direct to Limerick. Buttevant and Mallow are particularly referred to elsewhere. Millstreet is the border town on the mearings of Cork and Kerry.
Beyond the bogland country outside Millstreet is the village of Cullen, where tradition says no smith has been known to thrive. Saint Lateerin, a virgin of early Christian days, near here made her recluse, and every day she walked across the bog, and took "living fire" in her kirtle from the forge to her home. The smith once remarking the prettiness of her white feet, she momentarily forgot her vow of chastity, and the fire burnt through the homespun and blistered her feet. She went back to her cell, and prayed that no smith should ever thrive in Cullen, and none has ever tried to do so!
Rathmoreis on the high road to Gneeveguillia mountain, and to the north of the station, and at Christmas time, 1896, occurred the fearfuldébâcleof the bog, which struck terror into the simple inhabitants, and, not unnaturally, was attributed by them to super-natural causes. Two hundred acres of Bogach-na-Mine formed a landslip and rolled in a huge mass southwards, sweeping away several little farmsteads and suffocating the inhabitants and cattle. AtHeadford, the junction for Kenmare, the scenery is very wild, and all around
"Kerry is pushing her high headlands outTo give us the kindly greeting."
At last, after about a four hours' run, if we came by the special tourist train from Dublin, we havecompleted our one hundred and eighty-six miles, and are in sight of
Boating at Killarney
the home of lakes, which has well been called "the Gem of the Western World": its magnificent mountain peaks, its green swards and gushing cascades, all surrounded with an atmosphere of romance and tradition. Outside the railway station, we are face to face with the finest hotel in the south of Ireland. Well placed, well managed, it combines all the comforts of a home with the convenience of a well-appointed hostelry. It is within easy reach of the principal points of interest.
Great Southern Hotel
Lakes of Killarney
Photo—Guy & Co., Cork.
The grounds adjoin Lord Kenmare's beautiful demesne and Deer Park, which skirts the lake shores, and contain the splendid Golf Links.
Killarney, or "the Church of the Sloetrees," lies on a flat plateau, within a mile from the shores of the far-famed Lough Lene, as the three lakes, popularly known as the Lakes of Killarney, are called in Irish. The town possesses an Episcopal Palace, a cathedral and churches of interest, besides a monastery and School of Arts and Crafts. Otherwise it deserves little attention; but on fair days, when the peasantry from the neighbouring parishes crowd in, it presents a lively and varying aspect. If the town is insignificant, not so its surroundings, for nowhere else in the wide world is there such a combination of charms and variety of beauty, in mountain and lake scenery, thrown together.
"For how could river, lake, and seaIn softer sister hues agree?Or hills of passionate purple glowFar and near more proudly flow?And when will summer kiss awakeLovelier flowers by lawn or brake?Or brighter berries blush betweenFoliage of a fresher green?"
There is a story of a tourist who, lingering long in the Holy Land, was pained at the irreverent hurry of an American, who arrived there one afternoon, scurried over the sacred places, and prepared to depart betimes on the morrow. He timidly inquired of the swift-foot why he, who had come so far, rushed away so quickly. "Sir," said the American, "I am timed to do Europe in a fortnight. I have thrown in the Holy Land, but if I stay here longer than one night I cannot see Killarney, which takes three days." He was a wise man in his generation. Although enterprising people have attempted to do the tour of the Lakes in a day, they have always gone away more than satisfied with what they saw, but with hearts hungry to return ata future date, and behold the beauties they had left unseen.
On the Upper Lake
Photo—Lawrence, Dublin.
TheLakes Of Killarneyare three in number, connected by a swift-flowing stream, the Long Range, and emptying their waters through the river Laune into Castle Haven, on the Kerry coast. The entire journey can be performed by boat, but in the suggested tours given, both car, and boat, and ponies are pressed into our service.
The divisions of the Lough Lene are:—The Upper Lake (extreme length, two-and-a-half miles; extreme breadth, half-a-mile); the Torc, or Middle Lake (extreme length, two miles; extreme breadth, seven-eighths of a mile); and the Lower Lake (extreme length, five and one-eighth miles; extreme breadth, three miles). The first glimpse caught of the lakes, lying like broad mirrors beneath the high mountains, is a vision of fair delight. Like tall clansmen, Mangerton, Carnthoul, and the gathering Cruacha dhu M'Gillicuddy—the black reeks of the McGillicuddy—muster around, as it were, to re-tell us
"The tale of the spell-stricken band,All entranced, with their bridles and broad swords in hand,Who await but the word to give Erin her own"—
that old legend of the sleeping warriors garrisoned within the mountain's sides, which is met with in more than one Irish county. The Upper Lake is characterised by an untamed, peerless outline, and so near to the mountains does it lie, that the fissures in their rugged sides are almost countable, and the fingers of fancy almost touch the gorse on their slopes. Gliding over its waters, we readily see in them a land-locked sea. A ridge of the Glena mountains shuts it out from the north, the many-peaked reeks guard the passes to the west, and to the south stands up Derrycunnihy—"The Oak Wood of the Rabbits"—between which and Torc is the fair bend of a GlenCoumagloun. Between the lips of the Lakes and the feet of the hills there appears no distance
"Save just a trace of silver sandMarks where the water meets the land."
Muffling the boatmen's oars for a moment, we can realise that indescribable solemnity with which silent nature hushes everything. Even the countless streams that have lost their way across the highlands, in their hurry to join the Lakes, seem to cease from babbling. But following the sinuous Long Range when we reach the still water beneath the Eagle's Nest, Nadanullar, is the psychological moment to awaken the echoes that eternally haunt the frowning eyry. A bugle-call sounded here is taken up by the barricades of rock, and is repeated even ten times over. Small wonder that the fairy hosts are credited with passing it along their lines! The mountains take up their dying tones of sweet sounds, and answer it one to the other until the ear can no longer follow it through space. The ferns and rich foliage of the mountain side trail their long fingers in the water, and cluster and quicken among the crevices of the rocks. Recently the Laureate visited Ireland for the first time; hitherto this land of poetry had been to him but "the damnable country" of the politician. He came, he saw, but Killarney conquered; and he, like all others who have gazed upon its beauty, renders tribute where it rightly belongs. "Damnable" is not the adjective to apply to a heavenly land, of which he truly says:—
"Such varied and vigorous vegetation I have seen no otherwhere; and when one has said that, one has gone far towards awarding the prize for natural beauty. But vegetation, at once robust and graceful, is but the fringe and decoration of that enchanting district. The tender grace of wood and water is set in a frame-work of hills—now stern, now ineffably gentle, now dimpling with smiles; now frowning and rugged with impending storm; now muffled andmysterious with mist, only to gaze out on you again with clear and candid sunshine. Here the trout leaps; there the eagle soars; and there beyond the wild deer dash through the arbutus coverts, through which they have come to the margin of the lake to drink, and, scared by your footstep or your oar, are away back to crosiered bracken or heather covered moorland. But the first, the final, the deepest and most enduring impression of Killarney is that of beauty unspeakably tender, which puts on at times a garb of grandeur and a look of awe, only in order to heighten by passing contrast the sense of soft insinuating loveliness. How the missel thrushes sing, as well they may! How the streams and runnels gurgle, and leap, and laugh! For the sound of journeying water is never out of your ears; the feeling of the moist, the fresh, the vernal, is never out of your heart. My companion agreed with me, that there is nothing in England or Scotland as beautiful as Killarney—meaning by Killarney its lakes, its streams, its hills, its vegetation; and if mountain, wood, and water—harmoniously blent—constitute the most perfect and adequate loveliness that nature presents, it surely must be owned that it has all the world over no superior."