to the civilization of cities, can possibly conceive; and, yet, all is within a couple of hours’ ride by rail of centres of population which, if not entitled to be classed as great cities, are resplendent with electric-lights and under the spell of motor-cars and electric lines.
The railway routes, generally speaking, also readily lend themselves to this arrangement of the topographical divisions into the south, the north, and the west. Thus one may go to Cork either via Mallow, the junction for Killarney, or via the easterly coast through the “Garden of Wicklow,” Wexford, Waterford, and Youghal.
Until Cork is reached, the tourist journeys rapidly or slowly, as the places en route may or may not have an appealing interest for him;
but, once Cork, or Mallow, is reached, he is put to it to decide his future movements with something of the precision of a time-table, depending on whether he has much or little of the well-recognized commodity of time at his disposal.
To know and appreciate the full charm of that jagged corner of southwest Ireland which lies between Cork harbour—whence so many sunny-spirited Hibernians have migrated to America during the last fifty years—and Tralee, in County Kerry, one should journey around the coast by steamer.
One week, not less, should without question be devoted to Killarney and about there, if one would enjoy it to the full, though the week can perhaps be made to include the tour between Dublin and Limerick, as well as the coach trip from Bantry Bay to Killarney via Glengarriff. Another week—it can hardly be accomplished in less time—should be passed between Limerick and Sligo, including Galway, Connemara, Achill—that lone peak rising from the sea—and such of the western highlands, in general, as it may be possible to cover in this time. A final week, all too short, may be given to the Donegal Highlands, the Giant’s Causeway, and around the coast to Belfast, whence one completes the round by returning to Dublin, or crossing to England by way of Greenore to Holyhead, Belfast to Liverpool, or Larne to Stranraer.
Such, in brief, is the general outline of the methods which will enable the traveller to make the round with the most economical expenditure of time and money. In the height of the season, July and August—one should not, however, go anywhere in “the height of the season,”—there are charming variations of travel by lake or river, or coasting trips by steamer around the greater part of the island, which lend not only variety, but offer to some a more pleasant method than even travel by land.
The longest, and by far the best appointed, of these communications by inland waterways is a stretch of something over a hundred miles of the noble river Shannon—“Our own romantic stream, green Erin’s lovely river,”—which, in conjunction with a series of beautiful lakes, extends from Killaloe, in the south
(near Limerick), to Dromod, in the north (near Sligo). During the summer the journey is made in comfortable and well-appointed steamers, and throughout is intensely interesting and full of variety. About Killaloe the views are very fine. The mountains of Clare and of Tipperary shadow the town on either side, and away to the north for three and twenty miles stretches Lough Derg, crowded with islands and lined, one might almost say, on both shores by ruined castles. From Portumna, at the head of Lough Derg, and Banagher are the rich meadow-lands of Galway, along which the river winds tranquilly, passing hundreds of beautiful islets, its banks green with rich, low-lying pasture-lands. A few miles from Shannon Bridge is Clonmacnoise, over which hang many memories of learning, of wars, and of worship. Above Athlone the waters of Lough Ree are entered, with its rocky shores full of indentations and its myriads of sparkling islands—one of the loveliest prospects to be seen in Ireland, rivalling even Killarney itself.
The actual expense of travel in Ireland is little. How could it be? The distances are not great, and the cross-channel absurdly short, as sea-voyages go. One may, of course, spend “anything he likes,” as the man in the streets puts it, and get no more for it than another who disburses half as much.
The trip has, by some, been accounted an expensive one; but assuredly such is not the case. Hence it is to be hoped that this practical chapter, as the writer is pleased to think it deserves to be called, may make possible to some that which was heretofore thought to be impossible or, at least, impracticable.
What the real travel-lover wants, however, is, or ought to be, to partake of the life of the people, to see and know truthfully how they live, what they eat, what are their pleasures and their vocations, and how and why they so conduct themselves. One does not tour France to eat tables d’hôte served after a conventional menu du jour, which is much the same the world over, or to America or England, or to Germany or Russia to do the same thing. What he really wants, or what he would really like, did he but know how to get it, or were he possessed of sufficient unconventionality, would be to eat snails in Burgundy, bouillabaisse in Marseilles, saddle of mutton in England, baked beans and pumpkin pie in New England, and the best of beef and hog products in Ireland. This last may sound a bit strange, but it is a fact that the larger number of bullocks brought to English ports for slaughter come from Ireland, and not from the Argentine or America, as the English fiscal reformers would have us believe.
The old though unidentified adage, “When in Rome do as the Romans do,” should be more largely applied by all whose province and wish it is to roam, as, for instance, “When abroad do as the natives do.” Thus, when in Ireland, keep away from the establishments which cater for the “tripper” pur sang; follow the unworn track, which, perhaps, will lead you now and then into a quandary, but which will mean no great hardship or inconvenience, and, on the whole, will give one a far more interesting and satisfying view-point than any other, and a knowledge of the land and the people which is positively profound, as compared with the usual variety.
For the rest, it is urged that the traveller, either for education or pleasure, be forewarned and forearmed as to the possibility of time slipping away unawares, and his not being able to accomplish all of what he may have set forth to do. This will most likely be the case; but he should curtail his tour abruptly and not by piecemeal, omitting, if necessary, the northerly portion entire, and returning to Dublin from Galway or Sligo. By no means, however, should he cut out the western highlands, or even Achill, for here lies that which is, as yet, the part of Ireland least known to the great mass of tourists.
It is taken for granted that he will feel that he must, happen what may, “do” the Killarney district; and, after all, if it is the most sentimental and daintily composed of all the land, it is not the less appealing to him who is strong of girth and rugged in his instincts. It is, moreover, the region wherein are to be found the most complete “creature comforts,” as civilization knows them, albeit the charges for them may in many cases rise to heights which are unknown outside of really fashionable tourist points. Still, in this respect, there has been a great improvement of late, and, unless one insisted upon surrounding himself with those more or less unnecessary adjuncts of a metropolitan life—which he ought to have left behind him with his other cares—he will find that, for simple and comfortable accommodation, he will need to pay no more than in that Mecca of the cheap tourist, Brittany.
The hotel accommodations of Ireland have often been reviled; but, if not luxurious, they are at least as comfortable as in many other more popular regions, Brittany, North Spain, or Tuscany, for instance; and, while large and populous modern towns are not frequent, accommodations of an acceptable character are to be found in most places where the
