LETTER III.

LAKES OF KILLARNEY-TRALEE-LIMERICK.

July, 1825.-On the morning of the 5th instant, we set out on a visit to the Lakes of Killarney, which are so celebrated on this side of the Atlantic, and the fame of which has reached our own shores. The distance from Cork is about forty-five Irish miles, which the mail-coach travels in nine hours,—a tardy pace, compared with the rapidity of an American stage. There were six passengers in the inside, and about as many more on the top, together with the guard and baggage. Sixteen persons are frequently carried by these coaches. The fare is comparatively cheap. A passenger aloft pays but about half as much as one below, although in pleasant weather the outside is preferred, especially by strangers who are anxious to see the country.

The party in the inside was extremely pleasant, consisting of an agreeable gentleman living at Beaufort, who had just taken his degree at the University of Dublin, and was returning to his paternal estate, with a young and accomplished wife, who is to share with him the pleasures of his rural retirement on the borders of the romantic Lake. We found them an interesting couple,-intelligent, literary, and affable. With them was a maiden lady, who had in charge two beautiful ring-doves-a pretty emblem of the young pair whose nuptials had but a few days before been celebrated. The remaining person of the party was a bright-eyed and rosycheeked girl, with a musical voice and the full brogue of Ireland. Many inquiries were made about our respective countries, and the ride was far from being tedious, though the road is not very interesting. For a considerable distance, after leaving Cork, the fields continue in the high state of cultivation visible in the environs of the city. Handsome seats and farm-houses border the way. The peasantry were busily employed, in the harvest, and the aspect of the country clothed with a deep verdure, and fragrant with "the new mown hay," was cheerful in comparison with the confined streets of the town. It is, however, destitute

of trees and shrubbery, and the bare hills, although in many places fertile, are too uniform to be grateful to the eye, seldom presenting those rich landscapes every where to be found in the United States.

Midway between Cork and Killarney, commences a rough and sterile region, with extensive bogs along the road, wild, desolate, and dreary. In several of these morasses, the poor tenants were at work, in cutting peat, which is the principal fuel of the country. It is taken up in cakes of the size of tile, and arranged in small piles to dry. The process of digging it has lately been greatly improved, and is much less laborious than it used to be. It is frequently transported to great distances, and afforded at cheap rates. In these bogs and hills, the White Boys a few years since were wont to collect in great numbers, and commit frequent outrages. But Ireland is now comparatively tranquil, and travelling safe.

There are some antiquities and curiosities on the way; but at these the coach enabled us to take only a glance. Four miles from Cork is the Castle of Ballincolly, once owned by the Barrets, and celebrated in the wars of the Commonwealth, and of James the Second. The last of the illustrious family has long since descended to the tomb, and the place is now a ruin. Opposite this castle are extensive barracks, with powder mills, on the head waters of the Lee. In the vicinity are also the remains of the castle and abbey of Kilcrea. Macroom, Mill-Street, and other places on the route are dirty villages, filled with a miserable population. We were glad to escape from the crowd of beggars who beset us, and whose distresses we could not relieve. The language of the mendicants is wholly unintelligible, accompanied with all sorts of gesticulations, and in tones the most importunate.

Some miles from Killarney, the high hills of Kerry begin to meet the eye, and peak after peak rises successively to view. The ranges extend to the Atlantic, which is visible from their summits. Kerry is the most mountainous part of Ireland, and the whole aspect of the country is extremely rugged. The approach to Killarney is pleasant. Several ruins, groves, parks, and pleasure grounds skirt the road. We arrived at five o'clock P. M. The town, containing a population of 8,000, is badly built at the distance of a mile from the lower lake, with the fronts of the houses all turned

from the beautiful scenery. It presents nothing worthy of particular notice. The hotels are not good, and their locations are inconvenient to the objects of the visiter. After dinner we rambled through the extensive grounds of Lord Kenmare, whose woods and walks are enchanting; but his mansion is in bad taste and unworthy of the natural charms by which it is surrounded. From an eminence in the midst of his demesne, we had a fine prospect of one of the three far-famed Lakes of Killarney, with the romantic hills rising round its borders, and the hundred green islands studding its bosom. The expanse of water is small, and a low, reedy margin detracts something from the beauty of its northern shore. But the mountains on the southern side, illumined, as some of the peaks were, with the declining sun, while others were enveloped in clouds, presented a view in the highest degree wild and picturesque. The principal summits in this range are Mangerton, Turk, Eagle's Nest, Tomies, and M'Gilly-Cuddy's Reeks. The last mentioned is the highest in Ireland, being about 3,500 feet above the level of the sea. As its location is near the Atlantic, and in a climate remarkably humid, its top is almost perpetually covered with mist. Among these hills the three lakes are embosomed, being near ten miles in length, connected by narrow straits, which are navigable with small boats. The largest and most beautiful of the islands is Inisfallen.

After gazing for a time at the outlines of the scene, we continued our ramble along the shore of the lower lake, towards Ross Castle, at the eastern end. It is in itself a fine ruin, but has been spoiled as an object of taste, by the addition of a large modern wing, occupied as a barrack, and resembling a hospital. The ancient part is beautifully mantled with ivy to the very top, which is about eighty feet from the ground, and to which we climbed through a dark winding stair-way, over crumbling arches. In the upper story is a large hall, in a tolerable state of preservation, called Ở’Donohoe's ball-room, through which the song of the minstrel, and the voice of merriment once rang. O'Donohoe was an ancient chieftain of Kerry, renowned for his prowess, his hospitality, and popularity among the Irish. You meet his name at every step on the shores of these lakes. One of the islands is called O'Donohoe's prison. He used there to confine his captives. Another is denominated O'Donohoe's Library; and a curious rock, of a grotesque form, is called

O'Donohoe's horse-drinking, from the striking similarity which it bears to such an object. There is a tradition here, that when the storm descends from the mountains and whitens the waves of the lake with foam, O'Donohoe is seen riding upon the water, still lingering about his favourite abode.

Ross Castle, like many other places in this vicinity, was distinguished in the wars of the Commonwealth. It was attacked by General Ludlow, and gallantly defended by Lord Muskery. A superstition prevailed, that it could not be taken until a man-of-war should ride upon the Lake of Killarney. large boat in the shape of a frigate was accordingly brought across the mountains from the ocean, and soon after, the Castle was reduced, though not without a desperate conflict, attended with much bloodshed. We lingered about this ruin until 9 o'clock in the evening, and in the enthusiasm of the moment were not aware, that we had walked about eight Irish miles after dinner.

On the morning of the 6th inst. we set out, on ponies, for the head of the upper Lake, there to meet a boat which was to take us home. The path leads by the ruin of Aghadoe, which is renowned in ecclesiastical history, and still gives title to a catholic bishop. We also passed the river Lanne, forming the outlet of the lake, over which is a handsome stone bridge with numerous arches. Near this are Beaufort and Dunloe Castle. In the course of the day we received some fine fruit from the garden belonging to the former-a present from our fellow-passengers in the coach from Cork. At a little distance from this point is the celebrated pass of Dunloe, being a narrow and rugged defile in the mountains, just wide enough for a road, which was so rough that we were compelled to dismount from our ponies and walk through. The hills rise almost perpendicularly on either hand, and immense masses of the rock have crumbled from the cliffs, blocking up the sides of the way with the fragments. A little stream with several expansions, in the form of ponds, passes through the gap. Goats and sheep were seen in some places among the rocks; and at one point, two of the latter had imprudently descended upon a cliff, from which they are unable to extricate themselves, and must soon perish. Around the summit of the highest mountain, we saw a brace of Eagles, soaring and basking in the solar blaze, They build in the crags.

In the exaggerated descriptions of the scenery about these lakes, it is stated among other things, that persons have entered the gap of Dunloe, and were so terrified at the precipices overhanging them, as to retreat without venturing through. They must have had weak nerves, if there be the least foundation for the report. We experienced nothing like terror. The scene is grand, but cannot be considered awful. In sublimity, it is far inferior to the Notch in the White Hills of New-Hampshire. The Saco is a much finer river, than the streamlet hurrying down the rocky pass of Dunloe, and M'Gilly Cuddy's Reeks and Purple Mountain are mere mole hills, in comparison with Mount Washington. From the height of ground in this celebrated gap, the sequestered vale of Comme Duff opens on the view towards the south-west, winding among the hills. It is a beautiful glen, watered by a small stream falling into the upper lake, near the mouth of which is a cottage and castle, belonging to Lord Brandon. Here we found our boat in waiting, and after a most fatiguing walk over a pathway impassable to our ponies, we embarked and commenced our descent through the lakes. Our first landing was upon Ronan's Island, situate in the midst of a group of four or five others, raising their verdant and wood-crowned summits to the height of fifteen or twenty feet above the tranquil surface of the water. We climbed to the top of Ronan's, whence a fine panoramic view of the mountains and lake is obtained. On the border of the isle under a cliff, are the ruins of a cottage, the site of which is not inferior to that described by St. Pierre, and which a Paul and Virginia might not have disdained to inhabit.

The boat next landed us near the base of one of the loftiest hills, denominated Derry-Cunnihy, on the south shore of the upper lake. Along a glen and brook of the same name, a walk winds among the trees for some distance. On emerging from the woods, and close by a beautiful cascade, the murmur of which is sent back in echoes from the mountain, the visitant finds a neat garden and cottage suddenly bursting upon his view. The sequestered dwelling is lowroofed and thatched, with alcoves in front, defended from the beams of the sun by trees and shrubbery. It is entirely surrounded by hedges of flowers. Roses and woodbines, in full bloom, actually peep in at the windows, and fill the air with fragrance. The grounds, garden, and cottage display