Killarney and Glengarriff.
Killarney.—From Limerick Junction to Mallow, where the branch line runs into Kerry, the tourist to Killarney runs by many places of interest. Emly, now a dwindled village, was once a diocesan city. During the wars of the Commonwealth, Terence Albertus O'Brien, Bishop of Emly, was executed in Limerick by Ireton. His stole and pectoral cross are still in the possession of representatives of the family to which he belonged at Mitchelstown.
In the rich plain under the Ballyhoura hills, "the land flowing with milk," is the ancient town of Kilmallock. It was the citadel of the Earls of Desmond when they held high their crests, and every stone in the place is historical.
Two of its four gates still remain, and among the ruins, which have secured it the name of the "Baalbec of Ireland," are those of the old Dominican Priory and Abbey Church. In the former is the mutilated grave of the White Knight, a name still loathsome in the peasant's ear, and on whom the bards have let fall their choicest curses.
Lough Gur is of interest to the antiquary. It is ten miles to the north, and was the centre of the Desmond country. Here of old, the Kings of Cashel kept their Grenan or "Sunny Place" for feasting. The cyclopean structure in the vicinity points to the place as being of importance in pre-historic times. From Charleville, a thriving town, runs a line of railway direct to Limerick. Buttevant and Mallow are particularly referred to elsewhere. Millstreet is the border town on the mearings of Cork and Kerry.
Beyond the bogland country outside Millstreet is the village of Cullen, where tradition says no smith has been known to thrive. Saint Lateerin, a virgin of early Christian days, near here made her recluse, and every day she walked across the bog, and took "living fire" in her kirtle from the forge to her home. The smith once remarking the prettiness of her white feet, she momentarily forgot her vow of chastity, and the fire burnt through the homespun and blistered her feet. She went back to her cell, and prayed that no smith should ever thrive in Cullen, and none has ever tried to do so!
Rathmore is on the high road to Gneeveguillia mountain, and to the north of the station, and at Christmas time, 1896, occurred the fearful débâcle of the bog, which struck terror into the simple inhabitants, and, not unnaturally, was attributed by them to super-natural causes. Two hundred acres of Bogach-na-Mine formed a landslip and rolled in a huge mass southwards, sweeping away several little farmsteads and suffocating the inhabitants and cattle. At Headford, the junction for Kenmare, the scenery is very wild, and all around
"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