“Now look at the castle,” continued Trench. “It was built by the father of the present owner, Mr. H----, of Muckross. He spent 40,000_l._ upon it--something like a million of your francs. Everything that you see is derived from the estate. Still it is what is called ‘an encumbered estate.’ It has been seized by creditors, and Mr. H---- is now in America. He was an officer, but was compelled to resign his commission, and to work as clerk in a New York attorney’s office. Do you know how they keep up the paths and replace the slates on the roof?--with the shillings that poor old man makes the tourists pay him for relating the history of the abbey! This is what we are reduced to in Ireland!” The road gradually ascended, skirting the mountains which overlook the lake. These mountains are covered with woods containing handsome beech, fir, and other trees, and even a few oaks. “Look there,” said Trench, pointing them out to me, “those are fine trees, are they not? The Canadian and Norwegian firs are now brought to us so cheaply that the few trees we possess are not worth the expense of cutting down. The only deer now left in Ireland are here. From time to time there is a hunt to amuse the tourists. After an hour the animal takes to the water The hounds are recoupled, and the stag escapes with a bath!” As we ascend, the landscape becomes more charming. At our feet on the right we see the largest lake in Killarney, covered with islets, that at a distance resemble bouquets of verdure. The stream that flows at the bottom of the valley feeds three or four others that we pass by in succession. By degrees the woods disappear, and the mountains seem bristling with huge grey rocks. This rough country, however, is not a desert. Wherever the rocks have held a little vegetable earth one sees a small field, and then by looking carefully we finally perceive a small hut. There are people vegetating there. Catching sight of one of these houses not far from the road, between us and the stream, I asked Mr. Trench to allow me to visit it. “Wait a moment,” said he, “I will go with you. Tell them that you are French, and give them a shilling, then you are certain to be well received.” We descended by a goats’-path. I wish to assure my readers that the details that follow are strictly true, and that all the figures were written down on the spot. The house in front of us was about eight yards long by five wide. One of the gables is formed by the vertical side of a large rock against which it leans. The other gable and the two side walls are built of dry stone. The walls are only about six feet high, but the roof is very sloping, and this renders the inside room sufficiently lofty.