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the Glen of Malinmore, and that to the right leading into Glencolumbkille—the glen of the celebrated St Colum Cille, and the Sean-Glean, of which mention is often made in Irish ecclesiastical history. The road passing Loughunshagh falls rapidly into the valley. Far down the Glen are a Catholic chapel close to the road, and a Protestant church farther to the right, which stands on the site probably occupied by the old monastery of St Columba. At a turn in the road there is a stone cross, which there is every reason to believe, from the evidence of the monument itself, as well from the traditions of the place, was placed there by the saint himself. A little farther down, on a slope on the northern side, is the saint's well, and adjoining it is the saint's bed, where probably there was a cell, to which the saint withdrew from time to time, at a short distance from the monastery.

Glen is seen to best advantage in the pensive hour of evening. It opens on the sea, the valley terminating in a strand, on which the waves of the Atlantic break for ever. The hill that encloses it on the northern side presents a fine escarpment, breaking into precipices, where it runs out and forms the noble ocean cliff called Glen Head. It is in very truth a retreat to the mind of the pious contemplative, who, in this remote vale, shut in between Slieve League and Slieveatooey, may have his meditations on the divine attributes quickened and elevated into higher contemplations, by the presence of some of the sublimest and most awful aspects of nature.



The cliff scenery round Glen Head and Slieveatooey is only second to that of Slieve League. The tourist therefore should not fail to explore it. It will hardly take away from its charm that but the fewest of the very few who visit the coast scenery of Donegal make this excursion. Our tourist, then, may set out with the idea that he is “doing” the next thing to crossing some lofty, unexplored alp. He will need to start early, as he will have to traverse a coast line of some eighteen miles from Glen to Ardara. If he make the hotel at Carrick his starting-point, he should take a car to Glen, which he might order to meet him on the other side of Slieveatooey, on the Maghery road, or at the police barrack at the head of Glengesh, to take him to see that fine glen, and thence to Ardara.

But the tourist may spend the night before this excursion at Miss Walker's of Malinmore, a

nearer starting-point by four miles than Carrick. The road round to Glen (2 miles) is capital, and affords exciting views of Glen Bay. It will be easy to find a guide in Glen ; the first intelligent peasant you meet will do. There is a bridle path some two miles over the headland. The tourist will easily identify Glen Head by the martello tower which stands here within a short distance of the


of the cliff. Having surveyed this cliff, which rises eight hundred feet from the water, he should ask his guide to lead on to the Sturrell, or Camas-binne, (Bentcliff,) keeping close to the margin all the way, in order to enjoy the views of the precipices from different points along the line of this serrated coast. In general, these headlong steeps present an even front, awful for their unbroken altitude, the predominating colour being a pale yellow, with lines of watercourses and landslips here and there running from the top to the bottom. In the crevices of the rocks there are sparse scraps of grasses, which, awful as are the precipices, the natives sometimes come at by being swung down from above.

A gravelled path leads to a seat on the brow of the sheer precipice, from which the visitor may, without a sense of insecurity, survey the Sturrell. This most extraordinary cliff juts out from the line of precipices that here form the coast. It is almost


insulated, being connected with the main range by a narrow neck rising up steeply on both sides, and terminating in a sharp edge at the top. Beyond this edge the peninsula widens somewhat, and attains to the height of 850 feet. There are some patches of bright herbage which relieve pleasantly the weather-beaten face of the precipices. The visitor should take care not to trust himself among these steeps, which on the northern side do not appear from a distance so impracticable as they really

A few of the natives, whose legs and heads have been formed to the cliffs by long habit, venture all round this enormous breakwater in quest of birds' nests, or the sweet grasses that grow

in the crevices.

The tourist should now proceed to the Sawpit, which is a cleft of about seven feet in width, hewn right through one of the precipices. The visitor can pass down through this open, picking his steps over loose stones, to within about fifty feet of the waves. The especial characteristics of the Sawpit are the precipices which rise on either side of the narrow passage like walls of finely chiselled stone, joined with exquisite art, and vertical as a plumb-line. The wall on the left, as you look down the cleft, advances into the sea considerably beyond that on



the right. Below the point where the latter breaks off, the rock sinks into an even slope falling gently to the waves. The visitor might be tempted to step on this rocky embankment, but if he do, he has need of great caution, for a slip might lead to destruction, as the surface presents few inequalities for either hand or foot to hold by.

About a mile further on there is a break in the coast line, and a strip of strand, forming a little harbour called Purt, or Port, a name which can properly be applied to it only by comparison with the other portions of this inhospitable coast. At the northern extremity of this indentation the precipices appear again in great magnificence, and Tormore, the centre of a group of insulated boulders, begins now to be a conspicuous object. Inland, there is a valley in the bleak moor, a few green fields, and a group of four cottages of the humblest kind, built without reference to aspect or road—for here road there is none. Crossing a brawling brook, the russet bed of which may betoken mineral wealth in the bowels of the mountains, but does not tempt the passing traveller to linger by its waters, the tourist ascends Port Hill, bidding his guide lead to the cliff adjacent to the Tormore. Cautiously surveying his ground as he advances, he should approach the edge of the precipice, which sinks sheer

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