The county of Cork is the largest shire in Ireland. The pleasure seeker, the artist, the antiquary, the sportsman, the invalid, will each find within its broad barriers much to meet his wants. Sir Walter Scott is credited with the statement that the history of this single county contains more romance than the history of the lowlands and highlands of his own dear land of the mountain and the flood.
The surface of the county Cork is as diversified as the people. In some places, such as Kilworth, Mushera, and Ballyhoura, the elevation is considerable, elsewhere it sinks to a low-lying plain, such as at Kilcrea, where the bog is that tradition says saw the last wolf in Ireland killed, and Imokilly, where the sea is yearly eating into the lowlands. The county is watered by no less than twenty rivers of importance.
Making the city the headquarters for a few days, there are many places of interest in the vicinity which may with ease be visited. The excellent tram system may be availed of by visitors to the sights in its immediate vicinity. A drive by Douglas and Vernamount can be recommended. Douglas was an old town, famous for its manufacture of sail cloth, and in recent years a village providence in the person of the late Mr. John Morrogh has resuscitated industry in the district by the establishment of a splendidly equipped tweed factory. With a fine day and a good "outside jaunting-car" to travel the five miles' drive to Blarney Castle will be found most enjoyable. The famous stone, which no one should miss kissing, is set in the parapet wall. The word "Blarney," meaning pleasant "deluderin' talk," is said to have originated at the Court of Queen Elizabeth. MacCarthy, the then chieftain over the clan of that name, resided at Blarney, and was repeatedly asked to come in from "off his keeping," as the phrase in the State Papers goes, to abjure the system of Tanistry by which the clan elected the chief, and take tenure of his lands direct from the Crown. He was always promising with fair words and soft speech to do what was desired, but never could be got to come to the sticking point. The Queen, it is told, when one of his speeches was brought to her, said, "This is all Blarney; what he says he never means."
By the Great Southern and Western Railway the castle can also be reached. By this route a good stretch of the Upper Lee is seen, with Carrigrohane Castle, which belonged to the M'Sweeneys, beetling high on a rock, and the line runs through the picturesque valley of the Sournagh, which may be likened to a Swiss ravine. All the remains of the former greatness of Blarney consists of the ruins of two mansions, one of the fifteenth century, and the other of the Elizabethan period. In its time the place was one of considerable strength, and was erected by Cormac MacCarthy Laider, or the Strong-handed chief of his name. Most of the outworks and defences are gone. The old square keep, ivy-crowned, rises from a huge limestone rock, around which the Coomaun or crooked river winds. The Castle is over 120 feet high; the great staircase at the right-hand side leads through the entire building, here and there small vaulted chambers being set in the massive walls, which are in places nine feet thick. The arched room, of which the projecting window with three lights overlooks the streamlet below, is known as the Earl's Chamber. The last fight in which Blarney Castle figured, was that in which the Confederates held out for King Charles in 1642. It fell before the superior ordnance of Cromwell's commander, Ireton. It was never afterwards used for a dwelling-house, being almost completely dismantled. From the summit of the Castle a good view of the surrounding country can be had. To the west lies Muskerry, with what Ruskin calls "the would-be hills" rising towards Mushera Mountain. To the north is St. Ann's Hydropathic Establishment, on a gentle slope, surrounded by well-wooded parks. In the village beneath is the well-known Blarney Tweed Factory of Messrs. Martin Mahony Brothers, through which visitors may be shown when convenient to the courteous proprietors. The "Rock Close," which is at the foot of the Castle at the southern side, is one beautiful jungle of foliage, in which myrtle, ivy, and arbutus intertwine with the rowan tree and the silver hazel.
Blarney Castle.
If we have gone to Blarney on the "outside jaunting-car," the return journey may be made by Bawnafinny, Kerry Pike, and the Sournagh Valley, and Northern Lee road. Beneath Bawnafinny, "the pastures of beauty," we get a glimpse of Blarney Lake, a broad sheet of water bordered with tall trees, above which the old Castle raises its head. It would gladden the heart of Izaak Walton, as it is full of fish, among which is the famous gillaroo trout, which will not rise to the tantalising fly. The peasantry have a legend, that within the lake lies hidden the treasure and plate of the last of the MacCarthys, who hid them there sooner than allow his conquerors to gain possession of it. The secret is said to be known to three of the old family, and before one dies he tells it to the other, so that it may be recovered when the MacCarthy "comes to his own again." The milk girls also on May mornings are said to have frequently seen fairy cows along the banks of the lake, which vanish into thin mists when approached by human footsteps!
Photo—Roche, Dublin.