"Good morning, sir; and what brings you to visit my fine family so early, before they've had their breakfast?" "Oh, nothing at all," said the man, "only to ax after their health, ma'am, and to see if any of them is troubled with the tooth-ache; for I've got a cure for it, here in my pocket, something I brought wid me from furrin parts." "Aha! and you brought some _blarney_ in the other pocket," said the mother eagle; "for don't I know you came to steal my children--the darlings?" "Honor bright," said he, "do you raly think now I'd be sarving ye such a mane trick as that?" "I'll leave it to a neighbor of mine," said she; and with that she raised her voice and screeched out--"Did he come to rob the eagle's nest?" Of course, the echo answered--"To rob the eagle's nest." "Hear that! you thieving blackguard," said the eagle, "and take _that_ home with you!" and with one blow of her great beak, she pitched him over, and he tumbled down the mountainside into the lake; getting severely bruised and well ducked for interfering with the domestic happiness of his neighbors. About a mile below this mountain, we passed under Old Weir Bridge. This is called "shooting the bridge," and unless you have very skilful boatmen, is considered very dangerous, as the rapids are swift and strong. We next passed the bay and mountain of Glena, by far the most beautiful scenes of Killarney. We took dinner on shore, seated on the soft, cool grass, under the shade of arbutus-trees, and after a little stroll, returned over the water to our hotel, but a very little wearied by our day of pleasure. Our first excursion the next morning was to the ruins of Muckross Abbey, on a peninsula which divides the Lower Lake from Torc Lake. This is a beautiful, solemn old spot, and is very much venerated by the Irish peasantry, not only as having been built and occupied by holy priests and saints, but as the burial-place of many of the ancient Princes of Desmond, the MacCartys-Mor, and the O'Donoghues. After leaving the Abbey, we commenced the ascent of Mangerton, a mountain some 2,550 feet high. We were now all mounted on ponies, who were very sagacious and sure-footed, and climbed the rocky, narrow path like goats. We were followed every step of the way by a host of lads and girls, carrying jugs and cups of milk and whisky, which they offered to us at almost every moment. The greatest curiosity upon this mountain is a little lake, near the summit, called, "The Devil's Punch-Bowl." It is surrounded by almost perpendicular rocks; the water is very dark, and is said to be unfathomable. Though so completely shut in, it is never calm, and though icy cold in summer, it never freezes in winter.