| "And this?" "Why this is Ross Castle; it crowns the point jutting into the lake." Such was the inquiry and the reply of Arthur Clinton and his amiable tutor, Mr. Meredith, as they preceded Mrs. Clinton and her three youthful daughters, to embark upon their excursion to those waters so widely celebrated for their beauty. "Here, ladies, we take boat." Lo! the undulating line of the wooded islands of this scene of enchantment, and the spreading bosom of the // limpid Loch Laune, or, as it is usually called, the Lakes of Killarney. "How beautiful!" exclaimed Mrs. Clinton, "what softness, what magnificence! It actually seems, Mr. Meredith, to have sprung from the wand of one of Spenser's or Ariosto's enchanters." "Let us not lose a moment," said Harriet. "All ready, your honours. The band is safe enough, any how, in Con. O'Leary's boat, ahine; and Beauty has baskets, hampers, and coveralls galliore safe stowed; and in her bow, there, sit Tim and Thady O'Sullivan, (the two French horners,) and here are four stout hearts and eight strong arms, to make ‘Beauty’ skip over the pond; and ould Barney O'Donohue to the fore, to steer you safe and sound, plase God." It was just half-past nine, upon one of those bright mornings, not uncommon in this beautiful seclusion during a fine August, when the two boats pushed off with the happy party, (happy because virtuous,) from Ross island, to explore 's some of the most pleasing and sublime of Nature’s works; and with minds more alive to the God of Nature, as He here displayed the varieties of His power. Hardly a single curl was on the water, and swiftly shot on the boats under the robust strokes of the rowers. An impressive calm shed its deep influence around, from the beautiful blue and silver of the sky, and the placid lake reposed in the smiles of a genial sun, while the grand assemblage of venerable groves and impending cliffs added to its loveliness; and at times, the dash of a distant waterfall broke upon its stillness. They cleared the island of Ross and steered for Glenàa mountain, which, as they approached, assumed a loftier majesty, being clothed with forest trees, intermixed with arbutus, from the water's edge half way to the summit, broken with a pleasing wildness by strong masses of light and shade, and by projecting rocks. They rowed past the one called Darby's Garden,' and entered the canal between the Lower and Middle Lakes; and landing for a time near the Old-Weir // bridge, enjoyed the charming view, looking back across the canal to Glenàa mountain. [pp. 1-4] |
