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when the voice said, 'come up hither.' You might have supposed that sound had no existence here, were it not that now and then a hawk shrieked while cowering over the mountain top, or a lamb bleated beneath, as it ran to its mother-I could have gone to sleep here, and dreamt of heaven purchased for poor sinners like me by a Saviour's blood; I did at any rate praise the God of nature and of grace, and drew near to him in Christ, grateful for all his blessings and all his wonders of creating and redeeming love. But the day was advancing, we had farther to go and much to do, and my friend drew me away from my abstraction and repose that had settled and softened into prayer. So we mounted our ponies and rode about a quarter of a mile along a level road, as smooth as a gravel walk, that coasted the lake, until we came to a steep bank, where we let our horses graze along the water's edge, and ascending a ridge or rim as I may call it, of the cup or crater in which we were embosomed, all of a sudden the most magnificent prospect that ever met

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my eye presented itself-the whole range of the northern coast of Donegal. Seemingly beneath your feet, but really some miles off, lay the expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, like eternity before you, over which fancy flew, and almost impelled you to strain your eyes to catch a glimpse of America. Some leagues out at sea, but apparently within your grasp, lay Torry Island,* rising out of the deep like

* Off this island Sir John B. Warren in 1798, encountered a French fleet, with troops and rebel chieftains on board, and capturing them all, he crushed the hopes of the French army that landed at Killala, and broke the spirits and the cause of the rebels who had joined them.

I was sorry that it was out of my power to visit Torry Island. It is about twelve miles from shore, and I am informed that it is an interesting spot. Here are the ruins of a fortress, erected by Erick of the red arm, one of the Norwegian Sea Lords, whose roving rule extended around these isles and coasts. The name of this island is of Runick etymology, and Thor-Eye, now corrupted into Torry, denotes that it was consecrated to Thor, the Scandinavian deity, that presided over stormy and desolate places. Here is also a tower and church, built by St. Columkill, and a portion of the churchyard is dedicated to some ancient saints, his followers, who are there interred wherein, if any one presumed now to bury a corpse, the following night it would be cast with violence out of the ground. My informant assured me that a friend of his buried his daughter in this forbidden spot, and the following

a castellated and fortified city; lofty towers, church spires, battlements, bastions, batte

morning after the funeral, the body was found on the surface -again it was interred-and again the following morning it was exhumated. The father determined to watch over the grave the third night; and accordingly enveloping himself in his great coat, he threw himself on the grave, and there he lay praying for the soul of his dear departed girl.

Thus he lay until the stars told him that midnight was past, when all at once a noise rose from beneath-a mighty heave was given as from an earthquake, and clear and clean the maiden was left in her coffin on the green grass.-You may be sure that after this experiment some other resting place was found for her bones.

A foreigner, who is not more remarkable for his attainments in mineralogy and natural history, than he is for his agreeable and amiable manners, went lately to this island; I am not informed whether his explorings were attended with satisfactory results: but as bodies do not rest in their graves, no more could the carcase of this philosopher rest in his bed; yet it was not owing to the intervention of angry saints, but to the assaults of hungry vermin. We are informed that this learned zoologist, on his return to the continent of Ireland, was so anxious to divest himself of the sundry genera and species that attached themselves to him, as by a kind of elective attraction; that divesting himself of his integuments, he was seen through a telescope, wading into the sea, armed with scrubbing brushes, resolutely intent on expelling, destroying, drowning all the specimens of entomology that were inclined to attend on the professor, even as far as the museum of the Dublin Society.

The people of Torry Island seldom come to the mainland. A fishing boat containing seven or eight men was lately driven by stress of weather into Ards Bay, and the wind for some

ries, presented themselves, so strangely varied and so fantastically deceptive were its cliffs. Jutting out far into the ocean, lay the promontory of Horn Head, so called from a cliff at its extreme point, where it fronts the Atlantic, having the form of a horn; a place which in Pagan times might have been con

days continued so directly contrary that they could not venture to return to their island. Mr. Stewart of Ards gave these poor people shelter in a large barn, and supplied them with plenty of food and fresh straw to lie on ;-not one of these people were ever in Ireland before; the trees of Ards actually astonished them-they were seen putting leaves and small branches in their pockets to shew on their return. Mr. Stewart had the good nature to procure a piper for their amusement, and all the time the wind was contrary, these harmless people continued dancing, singing, eating, sleeping -a picture of savage life in every age and clime.-There are about 500 inhabitants on the island, and these poor creatures have been in the course of the present summer, visited by a great calamity. In the month of August last, a strange and unforeseen storm set in from the north-west, which drove the sea in immense waves over the whole flat part of the island; the waves even beat over the highest cliffs-all their corn was destroyed, their potatoes washed out of the ground, and all ⚫ their springs of fresh water filled up; nothing can be imagined more deplorable than this. The island is the estate of the Bishop of Raphoe.-There is reason to believe that his lordship will do all in his power to meet the wants of this wretched people. 1826.

secrated to the worship of the horned Ammonick Jupiter; but more of this mountain bye and bye. Nearer, but still along the coast lay the grand and extensive demesne of Mr. Stewart, uncle to Lord Londonderry, a place perhaps unique in its kind, of immense extent, the house and offices forming almost a town in themselves; for being near twenty miles from a market-town, he is obliged to have all his accommodations within his own premises. This fine place, which I may say stands on the Atlantic Ocean, is yet so well protected by high lands from the western blast, that trees of the loftiest kind, and shrubs of tenderest foliage, grow here in luxuriance. As a fine well-managed farm, a highly kept and wooded demesne, possessing in perfection ocean and mountain views; and still better, as affording me from its hospitable owner, the most kind and gracious reception, I know of no place in Ireland that surprised or satisfied me more. Nearer yet, as, from our magnificent standing, we seemed like visitors from another world looking down on the incumbent

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