ment in quarters
where such things were unusual, preferred the chance of escaping
unobserved among crowds of persons similar in appearance and, applying
only for ordinary accommodation. In this and many such instances we
determined aright. We obtained a comfortable bed and passed unnoticed.
Next morning we set out for the southern slope of the Killarney
mountains. As soon as we attained a safe elevation, we took a western
direction, skirting those mountains and crossing the road which leads
from Killarney to Kenmare, about five miles from the latter town. We
then kept a westerly direction, and turned round the vast bog situated
at the western side of the road. This bog contains several thousand
acres, and seems quite susceptible of reclamation and improvement. We
ascended the steep hill at the north-western boundary where we slept for
an hour or so, and then resumed our journey in the direction of the
Reeks. We purposed ascending the loftiest of these mountains, and not
wishing to take the route by the Gap of Dunloe, we crossed the
intermediate valley and began to ascend the mountain to the north,
believing it to be that which we had determined to climb. After having
toiled to the summit, we discovered in the distance the peak we were in
search of, its wonderful elevation leaving no manner of doubt as to its
identity. Between us and its base lay another broad valley. Before
attempting the ascent, we secured a lodging at the foot, and leaving our
coats behind, we began our task about four o'clock in the evening,
having then travelled upwards of twenty miles and crossed two large
mountains. The southern acclivity is more steep than the northern, and
we lost much by our ignorance of the best routes; but we reached
Carn-Tuathail, far the highest spot in Ireland, about sunset. The view
that presents itself from that peak is of the most extraordinary
character. Stretching out into the sea a distance of thirty miles, is a
jumble of mountains tossed together in the wildest confusion, and
exhibiting no definite outline. At the east, far inland, lay the long
ridge of which Mangerton is the loftiest point. At the north alone could
we discern an extensive view, where a rich and well cultivated valley
extended along Dingle Bay as far as Ballyheige. But the grandeur of the
scene Jay at our feet. Beneath us yawned at every side chasms of
seemingly unfathomable depth, whose darkness it was impossible to
penetrate, as the sun was sinking