ne 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 Glen Coumagloun. Between the lips
of the Lakes and the feet of the hills there appears no distance

"Save just a trace of silver sand
Marks 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