We dismissed the ambassador who had acquired for us these new allies.  They, or rather he, of whom I have last spoken offered us money which we declined.  In opposition to his remonstrance, we insisted on remaining for the night at a publichouse in the village of Cross.  He, to whom peril was new, could not understand our “audacity.”  But we who had experienced the disadvantages of asking for entertainment 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 in the Atlantic.  It was really a spectacle full of grandeur and of awe, and we remained enjoying it till the last ray of the sun ceased to glimmer on the distant waters.