It
deserves its reputation as the most beautiful voyage in the world;
at least I cannot conceive how, taking the elements of earth,
water and sky, anything more exquisitely beautiful could be
produced from them. Entering the narrow sea at sunrise, we sail
for three hundred and fifty miles through three thousand pretty
islands,
"Which seem to stand
To sentinel enchanted land."
These divide the water, making, not one but a dozen pretty lakes in
view at once. It is the Lakes of Killarney, or the English or Scotch
lakes, multiplied a hundred-fold; but instead of the islands and
mountains being in pasture, they are cultivated to their very tops,
terraced in every form, in order to utilize every rod of ground. On
the shores cluster villages, nestling in sheltered nooks, while the
water swarms with the sails of tiny fishing boats, giving a sense of
warm, happy life throughout. These sail-boats add greatly to the
beauty of the scene. I counted at one time from the bow of our
steamer, without looking back, ninety-seven sails glistening in the
sun, while on the hills were seen everywhere gangs of people at work
upon their little farm-gardens. It is a panorama of busy, crowded
life, but life under most beautiful surroundings, from beginning to
end, and we all vote that never before have we, in a like space of
time, seen so much of fairy-land as upon this ever-memorable day.
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