skirting the base of Mangerton and gaining the summit of Turc Mountain, from which are to be seen the Middle and Lower Lake in their most varied and seductive loveliness.  Few travellers ever see the lakes from this point, because it is difficult to attain; but I had been there, and knowing its superiority over every other, I wished to give my comrade a taste of the exquisite pleasure derivable from a scene of beauty unsurpassed in the world.  There is no spot, in or near Killarney, from which its wonderful scenery can be seen to such advantage.  On the water, at Ross Island, at Mucross or Glena, the view is confined to the scenery immediately around, with an occasional glimpse of the nearer mountains, which indeed may well satisfy the most exacting curiosity and fastidious taste, while from the summit of Mangerton (the great mountain attraction of travellers) but miniature forms of beauty present themselves, the great distance and height contracting the circle of beauty, and depriving every object of its fulness and natural proportions.  From Turc mountain, on the other hand, you see the lake at your feet—­all its islets, curls, cascades are within ken, entrancing your senses.  Standing on that green hill, it is impossible to divest the mind of the idea, that the scene is one of pure enchantment.

But we were destined not to realise it.  There was a police-station immediately on our way.  In our first effort to avoid it, we found ourselves, after much trouble, within one field of the door.  We then made a still wider circuit, keeping, as we thought, far clear of it; but following a valley which led round a clump of hill, we once more very nearly stepped into its back yard.  To avoid similar mistakes we ventured along the public road direct towards Kenmare; but when we were clear of the police-barrack, we had to travel several miles of mountain to gain the intended spot.  Our feet were all cut and bleeding, and we lay down on a rock in our wet clothes, where we slept soundly, and I suppose sweetly, until near sunset.  When we awoke we were obliged, from the lateness of the hour, to abandon our project.

During our stay near Killarney, we fondly indulged the last dream for our country.  In the remote regions of the counties of Cork and Kerry, the people seemed possessed of no political information.  They had a vague notion that an effort was made to free the country from foreign thrall, and that the patriots and their cause were lost through the Catholic priests.  It was easy to perceive, by the bitterness with which they cursed, that they—­although never reached by a speech of Mr. O’Connell’s, or an article or song of the Nation’s—­had cherished in their hearts the same imperishable purpose and hope of overturning the dominion of the stranger.  We calculated on collecting between fifty and one hundred of the hardiest and most desperate mountaineers, whom we could easily place in ambush near the lakes, to seize on Lord John Russell, who was at the time