280 A YEAR OF LIBERTY ; OR, 



CHAPTER XXXIX. 



Old Ground The Major discourses about Prawns Snipe-shooting Autumn 

 Surf Old Gun On the Mountain Banks of the Cummeragh My Friend's 

 Yacht We anchor the Horse, and launch forth on the Lower Lake Black 

 Trout Upper Lough Red Salmon We leave off in the dusk, and go 

 home in the dark. 



October 28. 

 Once more we are journeying over well-known ground. As we 

 roll along the road from Killarney towards Killorglin the Reeks 

 show clear and purple ; a stream of sunshine lights up the Gap of 

 Dunloe, and the islands, clad in the gorgeous tints of deepening 

 autumn, invest the lake with unrivalled loveliness. 



Summer is dead buried under the falling leaves. Winter is at 

 hand, and the air has a coolness which makes us wrap our cloaks 

 closer, and meditate a walk up the next hill. Again we pull up at 

 Killorglin, light our pipes, hear the news, and discourse of old com- 

 rades. Again we admire the lofty pine-clad hill near Lady Headley's. 

 Against the porch of the hotel leans a solitary rod, reminding us 

 that the season is not yet over, though the dull hue on the moor- 

 lands is more suggestive of the gun than the angle. Cahirciveen is 

 as wretched and dismal as ever. By-and-by we run merrily down 

 the long descent which terminates at Inny Bridge, and slowly 

 mounting the opposite hill pass the Butler Arms, with a triumphant 

 whoop from the driver, and soon pull up at the long, low, hospitable 



cottage of my friend Major D , whom we had come thus far to 



visit in fulfilment of a long-standing promise to kill a November 

 salmon. 



What a joyous evening we spent in the snug little dining-room ! 

 The ladies were not banished, but drew round the sparkling bog 

 deal fire, talked of their mutual experiences, the angelic nature of 

 woman, the iniquity of mankind in general, and, in fact, attained 



