Of course this is so.
As we neared Killarney the waters were out over the low lying lands and
the hay looked pitiful. In a pelting rain we steamed into Killarney,
passed through the army of cabmen and their allies and were whirled away
to Lakeview House on the banks of the lower Killarney lake, a pretty
place standing in its own grounds. Killarney is a nice little town with
some astonishing buildings. I have heard it styled as a dirty town; it
struck me as both clean and rather stylish in its general appearance. It
seems to depend almost entirely on tourists. Unlike Limerick, unlike
Galway, but very like other western towns the number of people standing
idly at the corners, or leaning against a tree to shelter from the rain,
strikes a stranger painfully. The lounging gait and alert eyes mark
people who have no settled industry, but are watching their chance.
We were allured to Lakeview Hotel by a printed card of terms and found
it delightfully situated. Did not intend to linger here any time, did
not seem to care much for the lakes now when I had got to see them. It
was a damp evening, the mountains, that loom up on every hand, were
wrapped in their gray cloaks, the lake whipped up by the squally winds
had risen in swells and everything looked dismal.
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