, with the
exception of the main track to Cork, absolutely without roads, an
almost impassable tract of wild mountain and morass cut up by streams,
which when swollen stopped all communication even for foot passengers.
Yet it was inhabited by a considerable population paying rent,
sometimes, for the mountain farms, to which they carried their store
of meal on their backs.

It is said that the father of Mr. Bland went to his first school in a
pannier, a stone being put in the opposite one to steady the load on
the ass's back. This was the "good old-time," when few of the people
could speak English, none could read or write, all spun their wool and
made their bread at home, and none dreamed of opposing "the master's
will." Fortunately they were in good hands, for Mr. Bland went to
work, at first gently and afterwards more swiftly, at the task of
making land and people more civilised than had been thought possible
up to his time. During thirty years he has laid out 7,000l. of his own
and 10,000l. of Government money in bringing his estate and people
somewhat into consonance with modern ideas. He has made twenty-three
miles of road, built thirty stone houses with slated or tiled roofs,
and three schools. When the estate came into his hands there was not a
cart upon it except at Derryquin itself. Now two-thirds of the tenants
have carts and horses. Forty years ago the entire export and import
trade was done by a carrier who came from Cork once a month and was
looked for as anxiously as the periodical steamer at a station on the
West Coast of Africa. Now there are carriers weekly in all directions,
and steamboats calling regularly in Kenmare Bay. All this work has
been compassed by the landlord, with the partial assistance of the
Government, with the exception of one solitary house, which was built
by the tenant.

The story of Mr. Bland's tame fish, which "sat up, and followed him
about like a dog," turns out to have had some foundation in fact.
There is a fine pool of salt water at Derryquin (Ang. "Oakslope")
Castle, which stands on the edge of Kenmare Bay; and this pool not
long since held a number of tame fish, which came to be fed when
anybody approached, just as carp do in many well-known places.
Unluckily, however, a neighbouring otter found this out, and carried
away the unfortunate fish at the rate of two every night till not a
single fish is left. I hear that both salmon and pollock became
equally tame, but that t