"Kerry is pushing her high headlands out To give us the kindly greeting." At last, after about a four hours' run, if we came by the special tourist train from Dublin, we have completed our one hundred and eighty-six miles, and are in sight of KILLARNEY, the home of lakes, which has well been called "the Gem of the Western World": its magnificent mountain peaks, its green swards and gushing cascades, all surrounded with an atmosphere of romance and tradition. Outside the railway station, we are face to face with the finest hotel in the south of Ireland. Well placed, well managed, it combines all the comforts of a home with the convenience of a well-appointed hostelry. It is within easy reach of the principal points of interest. [Illustration: Boating at Killarney] [Illustration: Great Southern Hotel--Killarney.] [Illustration: _Photo, Guy & Co., Cork._ Lakes of Killarney.] The grounds adjoin Lord Kenmare's beautiful demesne and Deer Park, which skirts the lake shores, and contain the splendid Golf Links. Killarney, or "the Church of the Sloetrees," lies on a flat plateau, within a mile from the shores of the far-famed Lough Lene, as the three lakes, popularly known as the Lakes of Killarney, are called in Irish. The town possesses an Episcopal Palace, a cathedral and churches of interest, besides a monastery and School of Arts and Crafts. Otherwise it deserves little attention; but on fair days, when the peasantry from the neighbouring parishes crowd in, it presents a lively and varying aspect. If the town is insignificant, not so its surroundings, for nowhere else in the wide world is there such a combination of charms and variety of beauty, in mountain and lake scenery, thrown together. "For how could river, lake, and sea In softer sister hues agree? Or hills of passionate purple glow Far and near more proudly flow? And when will summer kiss awake Lovelier flowers by lawn or brake? Or brighter berries blush between Foliage of a fresher green?" There is a story of a tourist who, lingering long in the Holy Land, was pained at the irreverent hurry of an American, who arrived there one afternoon, scurried over the sacred places, and prepared to depart betimes on the morrow. He timidly inquired of the swift-foot why he, who had come so far, rushed away so quickly. "Sir," said the American, "I am timed to do Europe in a fortnight. I have thrown in the Holy Land, but if I stay here longer than one night I cannot see Killarney, which takes three days." He was a wise man in his generation. Although enterprising people have attempted to do the tour of the Lakes in a day, they have always gone away more than satisfied with what they saw, but with hearts hungry to return at a future date, and behold the beauties they had left unseen. [Illustration: _Photo, Lawrence, Dublin._ On the Upper Lake, Killarney.]