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Updated: June 10, 2025
For the rest do you remember what I said to you that night at Killarney?" Her lips tremble her eyes watch him, her weak fingers close tightly over his. Remember! does she not? "I said 'I will love you all my life! I have kept my word, and mean to keep it. If I may not call you wife, I will never call, by that name, any other woman.
My father lived by the Lakes of Killarney. On that May morning I was standing at the door as the sun was rising. I was looking out upon the lake, far away to the east.
He had grown up with the place; had run the lumber-mill and the first railroad that hauled the lumber from the mill down to tide-water; had become the owner of the store and the proprietor of some sixteen miles of timber-land along the river-front; had built the chief house of the village and given his children a capital education; and there he still dwelt, with his wife from Killarney, and with his tall sons and daughters about him, contented and happy, and not at all disposed to question the beneficent order of the universe.
I stood upon the Giant's Causeway, one of the grand masterpieces of the Almighty; I visited the historic parks and deserted legislative halls of venerated Dublin; threaded the streets and byways of the quaint old city of Cork; listened the bells of Shandon; sailed over the beautiful lakes of Killarney, and gazed upon the old castles of Muckross and of Blarney, whose ivy-covered ruins tell of the far-away centuries.
However, his reverence came out and stood on the steps, enveloped in a hospital aroma of broiled bones, lemons, and alcohol, and shaking his visitor affectionately by the hand for he bore no malice, and the Lenten ditty he quite forgave as being no worse in modern parlance than an unhappy 'fluke' was about to pull him into the parlour, where there was ensconced, he told him, 'a noble friend of his. This was 'Pat Mahony, from beyond Killarney, just arrived a man of parts and conversation, and a lovely singer.
Yes, a boat came dancing over the bright waters of the bay; containing a tall young man, quite proud, and happy looking enough for a Prince, though not dressed in silver armor, and a very beautiful lady, holding a child in her arms. The "fairy music" was made by the bugle of old Stephen Spillane, the Killarney guide.
The government, notwithstanding the words of its own responsible chiefs on the faith of which the Dublin procession was held, and numerous others were announced decided to treat as illegal the proceedings they had but a week before declared to be not illegal; decided to prosecute the processionists who had acted on the government declarations; and decided to prevent, by sabre and cannon by slaughter if necessary the further processions announced in Killarney, Clonmel, Kilkenny, and elsewhere!
Despite these drawbacks, Lord Kenmare is an "improving" landlord, and has laid out in the last ten months some 7,000l. on his property. The pretty tile-roof cottages outside of Killarney are a reproach to the town itself, over which Lord Kenmare, after the manner of many other Irish landlords, has no kind of control. VALENTIA, CO. KERRY, Dec. 12th.
Honestly, Myra, I shall be glad when I have you safely aboard the Killarney, and we are on our way to Spain." "I am not going to Spain," said Myra, very abruptly. "Not going to Spain?" repeated Tony, in surprise. "No, Tony, I am not going to Spain. Don Carlos has offended me beyond pardon." "I say, Myra, you're ragging, aren't you?" asked Tony. "I thought you had made it up with Don Carlos.
"Never saw a lake?" "No. I am a true Lowlander: born and bred among bleak Norfolk sands and fens so much the worse for this chest of mine; and this is my first sight of mountains. It is all like a dream to me, and a dream which I never expected to be realised." "Ah, you should see our Irish lakes and mountains you should see Killarney!"
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