Shortly after our departure from Mallow we approached a mountainous region, and, although trees are rare in Ireland, where there are scarcely any forests, these mountains are covered with brushwood. The town of Killarney itself contains 6,000 inhabitants (again I quote Mr. Black), and it is built near to a lake. As we had nearly twenty-five miles to drive before we could reach Kenmare we went into the hotel to lunch. The landlord came forward to make a sad complaint to Mr. Trench. The poor man adjudged politics, the Land League, and above all, the newspaper reporters, to the infernal regions. There had been so many murders in the neighbourhood, so many outrages as they say here, and the journalists have painted the state of the country in such black colours, that the tourists have taken fright and have gone to quieter countries. His hotel is empty or nearly so. He appears so disconsolate that I feel I ought to say a few consoling words to him. “Sir,” said I, “allow a stranger, who is quite disinterested in the matter, to give you a little advice. You must evidently take some steps. You must give up the timid tourist. But there exist, thank heaven, other varieties of tourists! Why do not you examine the position of affairs and find an attraction for romantic tourists--those who on their return home enjoy making their neighbours shudder while relating to them the dangers from which they have escaped during the holidays? The Neapolitan hotels are always so full when there is any chance of an eruption of Vesuvius that, if we can believe the newspapers, the innkeepers there have combined and have promised a large reward to Professor Palmieri, a man who has made the study of volcanoes his speciality, if he will organise artificial eruptions when the syndicates desire them. At Ajaccio an hotel-keeper of my acquaintance subsidises a brigand, the celebrated Ballacoscia--a wonderful man! Twice a week he leaves his house at Pentica to settle in a very picturesque grotto above Boccognano, near the railway station. He receives travellers there. I have known several old English ladies who have for five pounds bought the stiletto with which he avenged his sister’s honour. Another, to whom he gave a lock of his hair, sent to England for a capital waterproof for him to use in his professional excursions. All these small benefits or gains are amicably divided between the intelligent innkeeper and the brigand, and every one is content. Why do not you attempt something of the same kind? In your place I should ask Mr. Trench to arrange a small eviction in the neighbourhood every week. You may rest assured that amongst the evicted family you could always arrange to have a venerable looking old man and a few pretty girls who would wail together harmoniously. You could organise excursion trains. For two shillings there might be a simple eviction; for three shillings an old woman of ninety should be forcibly