l is doing good work,
and is an enduring monument to the philanthropy of the Baroness
Burdett-Coutts. Innisherin Island, in Baltimore Harbour, was an old
fortress of the O'Driscolls--and in particular of "Finnen O'Driscoll,
the Rover"--of whom it is told:--

"The men of Clan-London brought over
Their strong ships to make him a slave;
He met them by Mizen's wild headlands,
And the sharks gnaw their bones 'neath the wave."

Baltimore was sacked in the early seventeenth century by Algerine
pirates, and all the able-bodied inhabitants sold into slavery. These
pirates were finally put down by the intrepidity of the Commonwealth
seamen. Kinsale, also on the coast, is a remarkable old town; there
James II. landed on his ill-fated visit to Ireland. Bandon, beautifully
situated on the broad river of that name, was long the Derry of the
South. The memory of these "good old times" only now remains, and Bandon
is the centre of many successful industries.

For information as to Sport to be had in the Killarney District,
see end of this volume, where particulars are given as to Cycling,
Fishing, &c.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Coaching in Kerry]

[Illustration]

The Lakes and Fiords of Kerry.

The Grand Atlantic Tour--Caragh, Cahirciveen, Valencia, Waterville,
Parknasilla, Kenmare, &c.

The beauty of Killarney is not without a rival, and that even "next
door" to it in its very own kingdom of Kerry. Leaving behind the
soft-swelling hills, deep-eyed lakes and dark mountains, we speed
southward and westward to other lakes and mountains kindred to what we
have already seen. It is for these lovely lands that the Gulf Stream
crosses the Atlantic to kiss, that we are making over the wide-armed
railway which clasps the most picturesque scenery in the country within
its embrace. Starting from Killarney for Valencia, we leave the train to
continue its journey northwards to Tralee, at Farranfore Junction. While
changing into the carriages for the south-west coast, where

"The mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another,"

one look round reveals the amphitheatre of hills. Westward, whither we
are going, the hills above Glenbeigh point our road to where the
Atlantic meets the shore. To the eastward, where the morn, in russet
mantle clad, walks o'er the dew, the line of far-piercing spears,
Mangerton, Torc, Glena, Toomies, and the Reeks extend. At Killorglin
(twenty-four mile