A DESCRIPTION OF KILLARNEY.
A
DESCRIPTION
OF
KILLARNEY.
——τὴν δὲ χρυσάμπυκες Ὧραι
Δέξαντ’ ἀσπασίως, περὶ δ’ ἄμβροτα εἵματα ἔσσαν,
Πολλὰ δ’ ὄρη σκίοεντα, καὶ αὐλῶνας κελαδείνους,
Καὶ πεδί’ ἀνθεμόεντα.
ὉΜΗΡΟΥ ὙΜΝΟΙ.
[Illustration]
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR J. DODSLEY, IN PALL-MALL.
M. DCC. LXXVI.
A DESCRIPTION OF KILLARNEY.
SECTION I.
To convey to the fancy a lively representation of substantial visible
forms, is deemed rather the province of that artist who speaks to the
eye, than of the mere verbal describer. Yet so limited are the powers
of the pencil, that by it, the same object can only be represented, in
one moment of its existence, and under a single point of view; whereas
description ranges in a wider field, commands the several changes which
time, in its silent lapse, draws along with it; exhibits things in
all the different lights, and positions, in which they can be viewed;
discovers new beauties in effects from unravelling their causes; traces
under the mouldering ruin, stately temples, domes, and palaces, the
monuments of a race of mortals long forgotten; takes in an extent
of scenery, which the unassisted eye loses, and the pencil faintly
pourtrays; and throws a mysterious veil over every object, by allusions
and details drawn from the stores of history and fable:
There Arthur lies, and there the Runic bard;
Here fell the hero; these sad hollow anters,
That grove, did hear his moan.
Revolving these advantages of the descriptive method, over the mere
plastic, I wished to prove its excellence by an example; and meeting with
a subject altogether engaging, I made the following attempt to exhibit it
in its true colours. I inscribe it to the Academy of Royal Artists, as
a poor atonement for my presumptuous encroachment upon the province of
picture.
I visited Killarney in the most favourable seasons for viewing it, when
the trees resigning their foliage, were already marked with all the
different colourings of decay: and when spring, repairing the winter’s
ravages, had again cloathed them with renewed verdure: but I preferred
the autumnal prospect.
The lake is divided into two great branches, or more properly speaking,
there are two distinct lakes, A, B, connected by a winding river.
The northern lake, called also Lough Lane, from its receiving a torrent
of that name, is by many degrees the larger. It is divided into two
branches, the one distinguished by the name of the Great Lake, and the
other called Turk Lake, C, from a mountain that overhangs it.
The Great Lake lies East and West, and from Mr. Herbert’s park, to the
mouth of the Lune, measures about seven English miles. Its breadth, from
the neighbourhood of Reen Point, to the opposite side, is said to be
nearly four.
Turk Lake is about two miles and a half in length, and three quarters of
a mile in breadth; it stretches from East to West, with an inclination to
the North and South.
The southern shores of both these lakes are formed by high mountains;
those of the Great Lake covered with wood, those of the other without
wood. The land which bounds them to the North, the East, and the West,
is either a flat, or only raised from the water by gentle swellings. ’Tis
generally diversified by plantations.
I shall first trace out the several bays, banks, and islands, which occur
in the lakes, proportioning my detail to the importance of the objects;
that passing from particulars to generals, we may, on some good grounds,
establish a comprehensive character of the whole; and, with the better
relish and judgment, proceed to consider the more remarkable points of
view.
The angular mountain Glynnau, or Glauná, D, stands on the South side
of the lake, and has two sides washed by it; for round this mountain
the lake takes a turn, and so runs to a narrow point, where it receives
the water from the upper or southern lake. This is a very beautiful
mountain, covered for a great part of the ascent with forest trees, such
as oak, ash, pine, alder, and birch, intermixed with hazel, whitethorn,
yew, holley, and arbutus, all perfectly wild. The forest trees are not
very stately, but the yews, holleys, and strawberry-trees, are in great
perfection; and blending their different greens, form a fine mixture.
The sides of the mountain, though not uniform, rise with an easy
acclivity from the water, and are here and there broken by gullies, and
streamlets, which is pleasing. The shores are all along indented; and
from the angle particularly, there runs a point richly wooded, which
forms two bays. The principal inhabitants of this mountain are the
red deer, which, among the sequestered thickets, enjoy an undisturbed
repose; except on some gala day, when O’Donahue makes a sacrifice to the
curiosity of the visitors of the lake, or his own passion for the chace,
which happens rarely. The music of the dogs and horns, and the shouts of
the hunters, posted in great numbers along the ridge of the mountain, are
re-echoed from the several parts of it; and produce an effect singularly
pleasing. It is from hence the stag generally precipitates himself into
the lake, when hard pressed by his pursuers; who studiously reduce him to
this necessity, by hemming him in on all sides; and his spirited efforts
to prolong existence in an element so unfriendly to him, afford the
highest entertainment. This mountain is the property of Lord Kenmare.
Toomish, or Tomé, E, stands to the westward of Glynnau, from which it is
separated by a torrent, called, in the expressive phrase of the natives,
Screech Stream. It completes the Southern boundary of the lake, and in
its situation, and appearance, much resembles Glynnau. The finest cascade
in the neighbourhood of Killarney, falls from this mountain; which,
retaining the name of its ancient possessor, is called O’Sullivan’s
Cascade. While the rains prevail it is amply supplied with water, and
exhibits a very beautiful picture. It falls from three great stages, of
nearly equal heights, disposed in such a manner, that the course of the
stream which supplies it, is hid from the spectator. The water is so
agitated in its course down the mountain, that from the instant it breaks
upon the eye, it is one entire sheet of foam; and dashing from stage to
stage, enlivens every thing around it, by the reflection of the scattered
rays which fall upon it; serving at once to illuminate, and contrast,
the shady green trees and shrubs which overhang it. The only spot from
which it can be seen to advantage, is from a rock in the channel below;
from thence the stages seem to diminish from bottom to top, from twenty
four or five feet, to twenty, and from twenty to fifteen or sixteen.
The whole scene abounds with the most picturesque beauties, but the
minuteness of the objects, and that air of regularity which is diffused
over the whole, strikes it out of the class of grandeur and sublimity.
At some distance from the cascade, there are two or three rude cottages,
inhabited by a set of hardy mountaineers, who probably subsist by the
chace. They generally come down to traffick with strangers, bringing with
them nuts, and wild berries; and sometimes cuttings of yew, thorn, and
oak, for walking sticks. The only bounties of Heaven they seem to enjoy,
are health, and a fine prospect; contentment, if they possess it, is with
them an heroic virtue. This mountain belongs to Mr. Herbert of Mucrus.
Towards the West, the lake washes a very rich and improveable country.
The part of it which extends from Tomé, to Dunlow castle, is called
O’Sullivan’s Country, F; but is now the property of Mr. Herbert. It is no
where marked with very striking features; it rises in a swelling slope
from the lake, and is here and there diversified by trees, particularly
on the banks of the Lune. This river is very considerable at its source,
being the only outlet from the lake, which receives from the surrounding
mountains several plentiful streams. Winding for a considerable way
through a rich valley, it separates O’Sullivan’s country from the estate
of Macarthy-more; and taking a westerly course, discharges itself into
the ocean at the distance of seven or eight miles. It is called by the
natives the Leaune.
The estate of Macarthy-more, G, compleats the western boundary of the
lake. The house is well situated, upon a rising ground near the river;
but the improvements are much neglected. In alighting to take a view
of the ancient family seat at Pallice, I gave the bridle of my horse
to a poor boy, who seemed to look for it with a degree of eagerness.
From his manner of answering some questions I asked him, I was led to
enquire into his situation; and was not a little surprized to find, that
though sunk in the most abject poverty, he was, nevertheless, a good
classical scholar. He was well acquainted with the best Latin poets, had
read over most of the historians, and was then busy with the orations
of Cicero. I could not help pitying, at the same time that I admired
him, and lamenting the hard situation which rendered his knowledge
useless; his taste and refinements the sources of continual disgusts and
mortifications; and even his habits of study pernicious, as they diverted
him from those active employments, which alone could keep him above want
and wretchedness. I found, upon further enquiry, that this classical
spirit is very general among the lower sort of people in Kerry: a
circumstance, which gives an air of probability to the romantic accounts
of a late Memoir-writer[1], concerning the learning and taste of certain
northern shepherds.
The lands, which lie along the northern shores, H, of the lake, have a
very uniform character; they are such as one sees every where, hills and
dales tolerably wooded, and pretty well enclosed; but capable, from their
soil, and above all from their situation, of being made very enviable
scenes. A neat farm house, built upon a charming neck of land, called by
way of eminence The Point, and possessed by Mr. Mahony, is better adapted
to the spot, and raises more pleasing ideas, than if it wore a more gaudy
assuming air. The bay, which lies between this neck and Reen Point, is
one of the largest, and most delightful in the lake; and owes so great a
share of its beauty to the islands, that I can scarce forbear mentioning
them. Reen Point lies nearly in the middle between the extremities of
the lake; and, about an English mile behind it, stands the village of
Killarney, and Lord Kenmare’s house. About half a mile to the East
of it, the Flesk, a very fine stream, which springs from Glanflesk, a
mountain some miles distant, falls into the lake. On its eastern bank,
close upon the shore, is Cahiranane, the seat of Mr. Arthur Herbert,
which has nothing remarkable to boast of. This side of the lake ends in a
sandy bay, one of the finest I remember to have seen in it. Lord Kenmare
is the principal proprietor.
We now come to the eastern boundary of the Great Lake, which is every
where rich in wild beauties. The northern part of it is called Mucrus,
I; as it stretches southerly, it gets the name of Camillan, K; and round
the extremity of Camillan is the passage to Turk Lake. It is impossible
to conceive any thing more charming than the shady bays, creeks, and
recesses, which the lake here forms. The variety of their shapes, the
smoothness of the water, the reflection of the trees with which the banks
are fringed, and the fertility of the very rocks which form the points
and angles, produce a mixed sensation of surprize and pleasure, which
it is difficult to describe. There is a stillness and tranquillity in
the air of these retreats, that is uncommonly engaging, and sets the
imagination to work to conjure up forms and build castles in every one
of them; the accessary ideas give new life to the scene, and the mind
returns with additional ardour to contemplate it. In some places you are
presented with an abrupt shore, and rocks of unchisselled marble hollowed
into caverns; in others, the level beach, covered over with smooth green
carpeting, seems to court your approach by a display of internal scenery.
Here you meet with a promontory, rising from the lake with the majesty of
a colossus; there stands another, the Parnassus of Silvanus, adorned with
every chosen shrub in which the God delights: and woe to the dull mortal,
that hears him not, as he passes, rustle among the thickets; for lo! even
now he emerges, and dispensing fragrance as he ascends, looks down with
benign complacency upon those happy regions, for which he has rifled the
gardens of Flora, to rival her once favourite Tempè.
——_Deus, ecce Deus!_——
Mucrus abbey is situated upon an eminence, rising over the lake, near the
northern extremity of this range. It is in tolerable preservation, and
still serves as a burying-place to the inhabitants of the neighbourhood.
A modern hermit, some years ago, pitched upon it as the place of his
retirement. He chose an open cell, in one of the upper apartments, for
his mansion; and formed a defence for himself against the inclemencies
of the weather, from the shattered remains of the tombs and coffins. His
vow was not rigidly strict; for he sometimes mixed with the world. He was
communicative enough on some subjects, and, as I have heard, tolerably
well informed. But at length he sullied the lustre of his character, by
indulging in the sordid unmanly vice of private drinking, oftentimes to
intoxication; till, finding the veneration he was held in daily diminish,
he abandoned a scene where he could no longer appear with credit. He was
an Englishman; and, when he left Killarney, proposed going to the rock
of Lisbon. There is certainly no place better adapted to a recluse than
this, especially if he possesses any degree of enthusiasm, as there is
none which can compensate the loss of social enjoyments by such a variety
of contemplative ones. The greatest curiosity of the abbey is a yew
planted in the center of the building. Its trunk is between seven and
eight feet in circumference, and its boughs form a compleat covering to
the cloister, which is a square of twelve yards. My Cicerone, pointing
to a wound in the bark of it, told me with a very grave face, that the
wretch, who had the hardiness to inflict it, paid the full price of his
sacrilege; for that a numbness instantly seized the guilty arm, spread
gradually over his whole frame, and in a few minutes dispatched him.
The abbey is too much shut up by trees; it might be so managed, by a
delicate hand, as to become a fine object of view, without being entirely
dragged from its retreat, and exposed to open day. An objection of the
same kind lies against the situation of Mr. Herbert’s house, which, in
the midst of the most desirable objects, enjoys a very limited prospect
of the lake, and appears to no advantage itself. The gardens are not
dressed with care; and would deserve little notice, were it not for
the extraordinary ledges of rocks which run through them. These have
not the least covering of earth to defend them, and yet rival the most
luxuriant spots in their produce. They are cloathed from one end to the
other with shrubs and trees, which seem to draw their juices from the
very marble itself, as the crannies and pores, from which they issue,
are so scantily provided with mold, that it is difficult to conceive
it sufficient for their nourishment. It is wonderful how pliably they
accommodate themselves to the several windings and crevices of the stone,
and how artfully their roots are disposed for the reception of every
drop of moisture; and their great variety, some of them the most tender,
delicate shrubs our climate admits of, still adds to the surprize. The
service-tree grows here spontaneously; the vine flourishes; the common
fruits are the produce of every cliff; the arbutus seems indigenous; the
lilack, rose, lauristinus, and cytisus, require no other culture than
that of the pruning knife; every neglected spot in this wilderness of
sweets is enamelled with flowers, and fragrant herbs, and plants loaded
with blossoms, or berries.
_Dum vagor aspectu, oculosque per omnia duco,_
_Calcabam, nec opinus, opes._
I observed, almost universally, in the trees springing from these rocks,
that the part of the trunk contained within the stone was much smaller
than the external, sometimes by several inches in the diameter;—a proof
of fertility this, which renders all others superfluous.
From the house at Mucrus to the extreme point of Camillan, there runs a
winding road of near two miles in length, very judiciously calculated to
unfold the interior beauties of the Peninsula: (for it is a Peninsula,
and as one side encloses the Great Lake to the East, the other forms
the northern boundary of Turk Lake.) Here there is a vast number of
those rocks and craggs, vegetating from every pore, differing in shape
and situation, and thrown without order into irregular groupes, which
afford new landscapes as you advance, and every instant present different
combinations and figures. They generally lie at a considerable distance
from each other, and are separated by low marshy swamps, which produce
nothing but heath, and the common aquatic shrubs; by which means they
have much the appearance of islands. And here I cannot help indulging
a conjecture, that the islands in the lake itself have been, at some
distant period, situated as these are: and that, by the stoppage or
interruption of the great outlet from the lake, or an additional influx
into it, the body of water has been so increased as to insulate the
higher grounds; and that the continuance of the cause has rendered
the separation permanent. It is certain this conjecture appears more
probable, if we consider the near resemblance of many of the islands
to the rocks I have just now described, and their proximity to the
level shores on the north and east sides of the lake, where the water
is comparatively shallow. It might be further confirmed by similar
instances; and particularly by the instance of Lough Neagh, in the
province of Ulster; which has for many years past gained on the land,
as is clearly evinced by a late writer. But as I cannot support it by
testimony or observation, the only sure grounds to build upon, I abandon
it as a bare probability.
Nearer the point of Camillan the surface is less varied by detached
heights, and risings, and more uniformly wooded. It is of a very stoney
nature, and almost every where covered with a thick moss, which is here
ornamental. As the lakes lie on both sides, with their islands and
mountains, how greatly might the charms of this spot be enhanced, by
introducing them judiciously in different views and situations? which,
by the simple management of leading a path from one side to the other,
now skirting the bays, and now ascending the heights, might easily be
accomplished. And how much might the views from the lakes be improved,
by here and there opening up the bays and recesses, and allowing the eye
to penetrate into the more remote scenes, as if by stolen glances? To
mutilate nature is inhuman, to aim at excelling her is madness: It is the
province of art to withdraw the veil that conceals her beauties, and
discover them in all their wildness.
The side of the Peninsula, which forms the northern boundary of Turk
Lake, so nearly resembles the other, that what Ovid says of the sisters
of Phaëton is literally true of them: they have the same general air
and complexion, though they differ in particular features. The whole
Peninsula is the property of Mr. Herbert of Mucrus, whose estates in this
country are very considerable: his ancestors were among the first English
settlers; and tho’ he generally resides in England, his tenantry seem to
enjoy more happiness, than ordinarily falls to the share of the deserted
Irish peasant; who, between intrinsic indolence and external exaction,
penurious in the midst of plenty, wanders upon the surface of the most
fertile country in the world, a melancholy instance of complicated misery.
The eastern shore of Turk Lake, L, is distinguished by no particular
beauty I know of: it is formed by the bleak side of Mangerton, and
separated from Turk, the mountain which confines the lake to the South,
by the Devil’s Stream. This stream has its source near the top of
Mangerton, which is esteemed the highest ground in Ireland[2]. Its
source is a vast cavity in the mountain, fed by the discharge of the
clouds which are daily bursting over it. The natives stile it the Pit of
Hell, but it is more commonly called the Devil’s Punch-bowl. It sometimes
sends down very impetuous torrents, which sufficiently mark their course
by their ravages: to this it probably owes its original name.
Turk, M, though not so lofty as Mangerton, is a much nobler object.
Its outline is free and graceful, rising to a point by easy stages,
and sinking towards the plain in such a manner as to form an irregular
cone. The side towards the lake is quite inaccessible, and to the eye
below has a wild air of grandeur, occasioned, as I conceive, by the
uniformity of its appearance, which presents no gaudy colourings to
divert the mind from contemplating the single idea of its extent. It is
entirely without trees, which as it contributes to the above effect, and
affords a striking contrast to the shady banks of Mucrus, is hardly to be
regretted. The river Lane rises near the summit, and is seen throughout
its course, which is a very direct one: it gives its name to the whole
lake, anciently called Loch Lein.
Between the Peninsula, and the low land which stretches from Turk, lie
the islands Brickeen and Dinish, which separate the two northern lakes.
They are divided from the shores by very narrow straits: that between
Brickeen, and the Peninsula, which is the widest, not exceeding twenty
yards. Both these islands are richly wooded, and abound with luxuriant
arbutus; they serve as resting places to the deer, which descend from
Glená, at the dawn of morning, to feed in the plains and meadows of
Mucrus; and here too they often shelter themselves, when roused by the
hunters, and driven from their more secret haunts in the mountains.
Dinish extends to the very mouth of the river which flows from the upper
or southern lake; and, by the opposition of its sides, distributes the
stream into two unequal channels. The river issues from the northern side
of the lake, and with all, its windings and angles, measures four miles.
The eastern bank, N, presents nothing interesting; it is low, craggy,
and infertile, scarcely producing a shrub or tree. The high grounds,
at some distance, which extend from Turk to the southward, though by
no means picturesque, are a relief to the prospect. The opposite bank
is skirted by the shaggy sides of Glená, that runs into the country in
this direction for a considerable length: its appearance here is not so
varied, as from the lower lake, but is still pleasing; it is terminated
to the South by the Eagle’s Nest.
This remarkable rock, O, presents its principal front to the North, and
the river, making an abrupt turn, passes directly under it. It has that
bold freedom in its general outline which sets at naught description,
and demands the pencil of Salvator himself to express justly. From the
ruggedness of its impending cliffs, which almost overshadow the river, it
would be truly aweful, if the trees and shrubs which cover them, did not
counteract the effect, by diffusing an air of festivity over the whole,
which strips it of its terrors. The parts of it, considered singly, are
beautiful; their strange combination produces surprise. The effect of a
musket or peterara discharged against this mountain, exceeds every thing
I had conceived possible. The report is encreased to a degree almost
incredible, and returning upon the ear in redoubled peals, now from the
neighbouring, now from the more distant mountains, imperceptibly dying
away, and again reviving, till it finally expires in hollow, interrupted
murmurs, bears a nearer resemblance to natural bursts of thunder, than
any thing artificial. The mountain is inhabited by Eagles, which build
their nests on the craggs, and inaccessible heights, and are continually
hovering round it: like true birds of Jove, they seem to have chosen it
for their abode, from the allurements of its pealing echoes.
The mountain which runs from the Eagle’s Nest, to the upper lake, is two
miles in length. It is one continued ridge without break, or rising; and
from its figure, and inclination, is with singular propriety called the
Great Range, P. Near the upper end of it is the seat of the musical echo.
The spot where it resides is a hollow bosom in the mountain, covered on
all sides with trees. The sounds are reverberated from the several parts
of it, and are softened upon every repetition, so as to terminate in the
sweetest cadences. A single horn produces a concert, and is multiplied
into as many instruments as there are echoes; these mellowing in their
tones, from the original notes of the leading instrument, to the dying
falls of the last repetitions, and mingling together in a wild, but
harmonious confusion, afford the finest specimen of natural music in the
world. The power of the echoes might easily be ascertained by breathing a
single note on any instrument, or by the voice; and afterwards, it would
be an easy matter, at any period in a passage of music, to determine the
number and quality of the sounds, which are employed in expressing it.
The southern lake, which is entered by a narrow pass called Colman’s Eye,
stretches East and West for above a league; but does not any where exceed
three quarters of a mile in breadth. It has a different air from the
others, being encompassed on all sides by high grounds and mountains.
Ghirmeen, Q, one of the most considerable of these, forms a right angle
with the Great Range, and bounds the lake to the North. It is partially
covered with trees, and on the whole has rather a pleasing, than a bleak
appearance. Arbutus Bay is the finest it affords; it derives its name, as
well as a great share of its beauty, from an island contiguous to it.
The mountain is the property of Mr. Herbert.
M’Gilly Cuddy’s Ricks take their rise from Ghirmeen, and encircling a
valley, R, of pretty large compass to the West of the lake, form an
extensive amphitheatre. These mountains are very numerous, and, as
if Nature meant to exhaust her varieties, are broken into the most
irregular, whimsical, shapes, imaginable. They seem to be quite destitute
of planting, and indeed their fertility, at the distance most of them
lie, would contribute little to their beauty. They are plentifully
stocked with grouse, or, in the language of the natives, the hen of the
heath, notwithstanding the depredations of their joint commoners the
eagles. They furnish the lake with its principal supplies of water,
which tumbling down in a multiplicity of channels, unites in one stream
at bottom, and enriches the valley. The valley owes nothing to culture,
though to all appearance capable of it: a few wretched cottagers derive
from its borders a penurious subsistance. Its shore is distinguished by
one of those singular rocks already described; to those who see it at a
distance, it has the appearance of an island; and by a small elevation of
the water would actually become one. The whole circuit is now possessed
by Mr. Herbert; it formerly belonged to the ancient family of M’Gilly
Cuddy, whose name it still bears. The mountains are called Ricks, in
allusion to their shape, which approaches nearer to a cone than any other
regular figure.
The southern boundary of the lake is formed by a range of high mountains.
Cahirnee, S, which joins the Ricks, is the largest of them, and belongs
to Lord Shelburne: it is distinguished by a waterfall, but is no
otherwise remarkable. Towards the eastern angle this range terminates
in a sloping bank, which forms one side of the Glynn of Derry-Cannihy.
This Glynn, T, gradually contracting as it retires from the lake, loses
itself in another, still more extensive, about a mile distant. Its
sides are covered with very stately timber, particularly oaks; and it
affords a delightful repose to the eye, fatigued with reiterated mountain
prospects. The Kavoge rolls a considerable stream through the center,
which, tumbling down a rocky channel, where it forms a variety of lesser
falls, makes the woods and caverns vocal. The Glynn belongs to Lord
Kenmare, who is now preparing to disrobe it of its trees, as well as the
adjoining mountain Derry-Dimna. Whether the Genius of the lakes, or some
more persuasive Divinity, will have power to stay his uplifted axe, time
will determine. The determination, with respect to his Lordship’s taste,
will be final.
May no future traveller have occasion to quote here the mournful lines of
Virgil!
_Itur in antiquam silvam, stabula alta ferarum._
_Procumbunt piceæ, sonat icta securibus ilex,_
_Fraxineæque trabes; cuneis et fissile robur_
_Scinditur: advolvunt ingentes montibus ornos._
Crom-a-glaun[3], which belongs to Lord Kenmare also, confines the lake
to the East, U. It extends from Derry-Cannihy to within a mile of Turk,
and, though no where lofty, is one of the largest mountains in the
neighbourhood. Its sides are covered with a luxuriant copse, which
reaches down to the water’s edge: and its modest height, compared with
the aspiring cliffs over-against it, gives it the appearance of a larger
hill. The foot of this mountain is washed for a considerable length by
a narrow confined bay, lying parallel to the river. This bay has no
beauties to boast of; its western side is bleak and barren, and it is
quite destitute of islands.
The Purple Mountain, though not immediately touching upon the lakes, is
an object of curiosity not to be passed over, W. It rises from behind the
Great Range, in a conical shape, and is strongly characterised by its
deep indigo colour. It abounds with a kind of heath, found in no other
part of the country, which produces purple berries; but receives its
prevailing tinct from another herb, used by the natives in dying. This
is probably the _Lichenoides saxatile foliis pilosis purpureis_, found
by Doctor Smith in an adjoining Barony, though overlooked by him here.
It affords shelter to a bird, so little known in Kerry, that as yet it
has no popular name. This bird, as it was described to me, is somewhat
larger than a grouse; its breast red, the rest of its plumage a clear
shining black, except the wings, and tail, which are interspersed with
white feathers. Whether this be of the same species with the heath cock,
so common in Scotland under the name of the black game, I know not: I am
sure I have heard, that the heath cock of the Highlands delights in the
purple-berried heath, and resembles our rara avis in colour.