have descriptive Gaelic
names, such as "The Stone of Pain," where our Saviour falls the first
time; "The Rock of the Woman's Piercing Caoine," where His Mother and
the Holy Women have met. Lonely and deserted, none should enter these
hallowed places but with feelings of reverence.

WATERVILLE.

The morning stillness, broken by the clear blast of the postillion's
horn, reminds the visitor lingering lovingly over the shores at
Cahirciveen that the coach for the coast tour is ready. With a crack of
the whip that would do credit to Will Goldfinch, in the coaching days
of old, the driver urges on his team, and the blooded four-in-hand cut
their way clear of the town. The tour along the Atlantic between
Cahirciveen and Kenmare is nearly fifty miles, and passes through the
most diversified country. The eleven miles as far as Waterville is first
inland, passing through dreary stretches of moorland, where the small
black Kerry cattle manage to thrive, until Ballinskelligs Bay suddenly
comes in sight. Bolus Head reaches out its great arm into the sea, to
shelter the Bay from the winds. At one side may be seen the little town
of Ballinskelligs, with its white Cable Station; and in at the head of
the waters, beyond where the Inny river joins the sea, Waterville
spreads itself out around the long shore. Here it lies on the little
streak of land which protects Lough Currane from the embrace of the
ocean. Coming down the hill, out of the town, the delusion is that this
great fresh-water lake is but itself a bay, the mouth of which is
concealed from view, but not so, for its waters run clear and fresh, and
as fishful as the Erne. It is the best free fishing lake in Ireland.
Just outside Waterville the Commercial Cable Company (Mackay-Bennett
system) have their extensive offices.

[Illustration: _Photos, Cuthbert, Valencia._ Gannets on Little Skelligs.]

[Illustration: Southern Hotel, Waterville.]

The road leads across the Inny, and we enter the little town by the
pleasantly-situated Butler Arms Hotel. On going further, fronting the
shore line, we pass the Bay View Hotel, and, following a bend in the
hill, come suddenly in view of the beautiful Lough Currane, beside
which, in the midst of plantations, more like a home than a
well-equipped hostelry, which it is, the ~Southern Hotel~ is built.
Lough Currane is eight miles in circumference, and its shores are
fretted with thousands of inlets. Through the windows of the Hotel, a
c