fond of boating, and is not pressed for time, he may have an abundantly interesting day's excursion in fine weather in exploring its cave and cliff scenery, which is very fine, particularly in the neighbourhood of the lighthouse, and indeed all round the northwest side of the island.

About a mile north of Burton Port is Castle Port, accessible only to the pedestrian, where once stood Dungloe Castle. "Murray's Handbook" notes here that there still remains the isolated ruin of the castle; the present writer has been in the locality more than once, but has not seen the ruin alluded to.

From Burton Port the pedestrian, wishing to go to Gweedore, may follow the by-road passing Kadu strand, and on to Kincaslagh, where there is a Catholic chapel, a spacious and well-built edifice; thence to Mullaghderg, where there is a considerable lake, separated only by a sand-bank from the sea. Out on the coast are one of those martello towers, and a rock, called the Spanish Rock, from the circumstance of a wreck of a Spanish vessel, supposed to have belonged to the Armada, having occurred there. In the memory of the inhabitants of this parish, “a number of well-finished brass guns were fished up, but unfortunately got into the hands of some travelling tinkers, by whose advice they were speedily broken up, and sold to themselves, of course

at a fabulous profit." Off the coast, a little to the north, is a group of rocks, called the Stags, which, according to a legend told in the district, had once upon a time been a fleet of seven magnificent ships belonging to that order of beings known as "gentle folk," but were changed by some powerful enchantress into ocean rocks. After a period of years they are allowed to resume the form they had at the moment in which they were metamorphosed, and they are then allowed to sail away, under the condition that they are seen by no human eye. It is needless to add, that the moment of emancipation for the unfortunate Stags has invariably arrived when the eyes of some man were directed towards them. Some twenty years ago-as it was told to the writer-an old man living in the neighbourhood of Annagray saw seven ships in full sail setting from the shore. It was a beautiful evening about midsummer; the ships were of immense size, and their rigging gorgeous; the sails were of silk, resembling the rich colour of a cloud in the setting sun, while streamers of the same colour floated from every mast; the decks were alive with busy crews, dressed in caps and jackets of bright red. The old man gazed on the sight for a moment in rapt admiration, when presently the beautiful sails collapsed, gathering the entire rigging into thick folds, like an

umbrella quickly shut; and when he rubbed his eyes hard and looked again, the beautiful vision had vanished, and nothing was seen but the Stags pointing their sharp heads up from the blue waters. He then recollected how he had often ridiculed the story of their enchantment, but now he doubted it no From Mullaghderg the pedestrian may keep along the coast to the place called the Point, where he will easily find a boat to take him across to Bunbeg, and proceed thence to the Gweedore Hotel.

more.

The direct road from Dungloe to Gweedore (thirteen miles) traverses a flat moor, for the most part desolate, but relieved in fine weather by the mountain ranges that bound the view to the right, and the broken coast away to the left, both which prospects have already been noticed. At Lough Anure there is work for the geologist. "The environs consist of mica slate, with coarse granular dolomite. . . . . On one spot will be found basilar idiocrase and epidote, crystallised in six-sided prisms, with common garnet of a reddish-brown colour."* At the head of Annagray creek the solitude is broken by a hamlet, which is graced by a police-barrack and a national school; and a little farther on, "the Gweedore river is crossed at a spot where a combination of rock and waterfall offers charming scenery." From + Murray.

*

Giesecke, apud Murray.

hence the road runs over a bleak moorland to Gweedore Hotel.

GLENTIES TO GWEEDORE.

The usual route between Glenties and Gweedore is through Dungloe, and this is the more direct road. But there is a far better route passing through the valleys of Lough Finn, Lough Barra, and Lough Beagh, or Lough Veagh, all which would be lost to the passing tourist who should follow the beaten track, though in all the more striking characteristics of Highland scenery they surpass anything in Donegal. The proposed route is thirty-nine miles, while that by Dungloe is thirty, but a difference of nine miles will not, one should suppose, weigh much against the pomp of lofty mountain, deep lake, headlong torrent, and topling precipice. The great, in fact the only, inconvenience of this route is the absence of hotels on the way; it will be necessary, therefore, to take a car, and to start early. The Dungloe route, just traced, may be explored by special excursion from Gweedore.

Leaving Glenties, the road takes a north-easterly direction, following the valley of the Shallagan river, and having on the left the Derryloghan mountains, and Aghla on the right. After the third mile, a road is given off to the left, which leads to Ducarry

by the right bank of the Gweebarra.* The tourist will be careful to keep the Fintown road, skirting Knockrawer, which looks from a distance like a gigantic pyramid. At the fifth mile he gains the watershed; and following for a short distance a gentle incline, comes suddenly on Lough Finn, a narrow strip of water extending some three or four miles from south-west to north-west. On the right rises the immense mass of Aghla (1961 ft.) sheer from the water, and the threatening steep, clothed with dark heath and torn by mountain torrents, gives the place an air of wild grandeur. Still, the scene is not savage, for there are plots of cultivated ground on the margin of the lake. There is a legend that a giant called Fear-Gowan, one of the famous Fenian heroes, perished on the bank of this lake. The story goes, that the Fear-Gowan, who had his principal residence at Glenlehin, some six miles to the northwest, returning from a visit in the south of Ireland, approached the haunt of a wild-boar that had long ruled supreme in the mountains south of Lough Finn, and had come off victorious from many a bloody encounter with the bravest Fenian huntsmen. The Fear-Gowan was young, but had an elder sister of the true Fenian stamp, who advised him strongly to keep clear of this formidable boar, and his friends

*See Excursion from Glenties to Dungloe, page 152.