And now by the lovely bay of _Glena_, we enter the Lower Lake. In front of Lord Kenmare's Cottage, to which visitors have access, 1 numerous boats are moored; and the bright green sward about this pretty rustic retreat, contrasts remarkably with the under-robes of brilliant scarlet, which are sweeping slowly over it, while, from the walks above, gay little bonnets flash among the trees, and the cock-pheasants and other ornithological specimens, now worn in the hats of Englishwomen, seem to rejoice, reanimate, in their leafy homes.
1 The public are greatly indebted to Lord Kenmare and Mr. Herbert for their indulgent liberality.
Here again, opposite the sublime mountains of Glena, so fairly dight from crown to foot in their summer garb of green, we awake and listen to the echoes, until “the big rain comes dancing to the” lake, and we row hastily homeward, changing places half way with the boatmen, and astonishing them considerably with an Oxford “spirt.”
It was pleasant, when we reached the Victoria, and had “cleaned ourselves” (as housemaids term a restoration of the toilette), to find letters from England, to hear that the good wheat was shorn and stacked, and the mowers “in among the bearded barley.” There was still a short interval, when these letters were answered, to elapse before dinner, and this I occupied in perusing the account of “_the Prince of Wales's visit to Killarney_” in April, 1858.
Now Heaven preserve our dear young Prince from that excessive loyalty, which loves to “chronicle small beer.” The historian told how “_alighting from his vehicle, the Prince, who seems passionately fond of walking, proceeded on foot for a mile or two, with gun in hand, firing from time to time at bird, leaf, or fissure in the rock, in the exuberance of those animal spirits, which belong to his time of life_,” but which must be somewhat perilous to those of his Royal Mother's liege subjects, who may be wandering in the immediate vicinity. Then we are informed, how that, “_His Royal Highness and party drove on to the Victoria Hotel, with rather keen appetites_;” how he visited “_the tomb of O' Sullivan, and inspected it with much gravity of demeanour_,” as though to ordinary minds there was something in sepulchres irresistibly comic; how “_having drunk in all the glories of this wondrous scene_,” (the view from Mangerton) “_the Prince amused himself for some time in rolling large stones into the Devil's Punch Bowl_” for the satisfaction, doubtless, of hearing them “go flop;” how when he went to Church on Sunday, “_the Venerable Archdeacon read prayers, and seemed, as it were, reinvigorated by his presence_,” which suggests the idea of a subsequent jig with the clerk in the vestry, or of an Irish chassez down the centre aisle; and how, to make a final extract, Mr. Carroll, the tailor, presented His Royal Highness with “_a whole suit of Irish tweed, admirably calculated for mountain excursions, and with the texture of which, as well as the fit,--which Mr. Carrolls eye hit off to a nicety_”--does this mean that Mr. C. “took a shot” at the royal dimensions?--“_the Prince was much pleased_.”