and to the greater variety of objects in the middle distance. The green hills which bound the domain of Mucruss obstruct the view at the base of the mountain on that side; whilst in the opposite direction the eye commands, beyond the lake, the rich wooded vale watered by the river Laune, an extensive and variegated prospect;

The charms of landscape are, in almost every instance, heightened by the glowing tints, and by the deep and lengthened shadows which are diffused over the face of Nature by the setting sun; but the scenes of the lower lake of Killarney, especially those which are commanded from the hills, appear to so much greater advantage,

when many-colour'd evening

Sinks behind the purple woods and hills→→

that the objects which had been a source of delight in their sombre livery, can with difficulty be recognised for the same in the splendour of their new attire.

Before the sun has ascended to his meridian height, the moun, tains bordering upon the lower lake are left in shadow. Their surface then appears tame and unvaried, and their summit, if it be in clear weather, forms a hard outline against the azure sky; but as the day declines, the sun imperceptibly glides across the line of the great chain, and darts his rays on that side of the mountains which lies next to the lake. All their bold irregularities are then revealed; their protruding rocks; their deep glens; and the lake, by the long gleams which pass athwart its

peaceful waves, is illuminated amidst its dark and wooded islands.

The horizontal clouds

With purple dyes and fissures edged with gold

Streak the calm ether, while through the sparkling haze

The faint hills glimmer; fainter as their chains
Approach the fount of brightness; fainter still
Where sunk the parting orb, and with the sky
In undistinguishable splendour join'd.

I have sometimes imagined that the sun set with more splendour at Killarney than in other parts of the country; and, indeed, there can be no doubt that the diversity of light and colours in the sky, is augmented by the vast collections of clouds which are attracted by the mountains, as they come from the Atlantic,

Or whirl'd tempestuous by the gusty wind,

Or silent borne along, heavy and slow,

With the big stores of steaming Ocean charg❜d.

These clouds not only occasion the most grand and beautiful effects, at the approach of evening, but exhibit infinite vicissitudes of light and shade throughout the day, altering from hour to hour the face of the landscape.

Occasionally an effect is produced by the setting sun, on the range of mountains bounding the lake, not less beautiful than rare, and totally differing from what I remember to have seen in other mountainous countries; though doubtless, in particular situations, the same appearance may result from the variations of the atmosphere. I can only attempt to give an idea of it by describing it as displaying the mountains in a transparent state, and suffused with a lively purple hue. Varying however from the aërial aspect of distant mountains,

all the objects upon them, rocks, woods, and even houses, are distinctly visible,—more so, indeed, than at noon day; whilst at the same time their forms appear so unsubstantial, so ethereal, that one might almost fancy it possible to pass through them without resistance. I happened to be alone when I first witnessed this singular and beautiful phænomenon; and having communicated it to some friends who were with me at Killarney, we several times walked down to the lake when the state of the atmosphere seemed propitious; but being frequently disappointed in our hopes of beholding it, my description began to pass for the mere creation of fancy: at last, however, the mountains put on this magical aspect, and, incredulity instantly gave place to admiration and delight. This appearance is very transient, continuing only for about ten minutes, whilst the sun approaches the earth and is sinking below the horizon. The mountains on which it is observable are Tomies, and those which lie next to it in the chain towards the west.

The hills which rise behind the flat, independent of the extensive and beautiful views which they command of the lake, mountains, and adjacent country, possess many interesting features that cannot fail to gratify those who will be at the pains to examine them. Some, particularly the one which is occupied by the extensive deer-park of Lord Kenmare, are richly wooded with oaks, and their surface is occasionally varied by rocks, but more frequently by smooth knolls and gentle declivities. Numerous rivulets descend along their sides to the lake, whose banks, diversified with rocks and trees, are fraught with beauty. In the park there is a romantic little glen, through which a clear stream rushes over a bed of rocks. Commodious walks at each side are cut amongst the trees, and rustic seats

placed for the repose of the weary, or the contemplation of the enthusiast. Sometimes a straggling deer overleaps the fence, and finds his way into this sequestered little spot: it may be readily imagined how much his appearance is in character with the scene; and how greatly it must add to its picturesque effect, when he is descried emerging from the thickets, or stooping to drink

Just in the dubious point, where with the pool

Is mixed the trembling stream, or where it boils
Around the stone.

The park commences at the distance of half a mile from the town, on the road leading to Castle-island; and thence extends for some miles towards the south-east. The hill which it occupies, on the side next to the town, slopes gradually to the flat; but at the opposite extremity, a range of lesser hills stands between it and the water. The oaks with which it abounds appear to advantage collectively; though, on examination, they are found in general of stunted growth, probably owing to their exposure to the storms from the west and north. The hills between the park and Aghadoe are considerably varied, but they are not adorned with much wood. Some gentlemen's seats on them, particularly Belview, the residence of Mr. Russel, are well deserving of attention, on account of the agreeable prospects which they command.

Of all the hills upon the northern side of the lake, the most elevated is that of Aghadoe, which appears to have been a place of no small celebrity in past ages. On its summit stand the remains of an abbey church or cathedral*, and it still continues

In the view of the church of Mucruss-abbey, the hill of Aghadoe, in the distance, may be distinguished by its ruins, which are conspicuous from every part of the lower lake.

to give title to a bishop. Amongst the Roman catholics the diocese is preserved distinct; but in the established church it ranks as a secondary one, attached to the see of Limerick. So imperfect, however, is the state of ecclesiastical records in Ireland, that of the history of this place, if the author of the Monasticon Hibernicum is to be credited, nothing more is known than what can be collected from the following extract:"Aodh son of Conor, son of Auliff More, O'Donoghue king of Eoganacht Loch-lein (the antient name of Killarney) died in the year 1231, and was buried in his old abbey of Aghadoe.”The writer of these annals was a monk of the abbey of Innisfallen, who flourished at a period when the members of these religious communities were prone to attach considerable importance to the antiquity of their establishments. The abbey to which he belonged was founded as early as the sixth century yet he emphatically styles this the old abbey of Aghadoe; a circumstance from which it may not unfairly be inferred, that its foundation was at least coeval with, perhaps anterior to, that of Innisfallen.

Of the habitable part of the building no vestiges whatever now remain; but the walls of the church are in tolerable preservation, except that on the south side, where the destroying hand of Time has been actively employed. The rudeness of the architecture, and the narrowness of the dimensions, do not indicate that the wealth or splendour of the church, in this part of Ireland, was formerly very considerable. The whole length of the building is but eighty feet, the breadth twenty; and this small area is divided into two parts, by a substantial wall without any apertures. The windows, few in number, and in form not unlike the loop-holes in an old castle, could only admit a faint glimmering light. Gloominess, once esteemed so favourable