It is in this vale that Mr. Ross's beautiful seat is situated. It was formerly called "Bladensburgh," but now, from the curious complication of its architectural style, "Topsy-turvy." Shortly after, you pass by another residence, with an equally capricious name, "Carpenham;" so named after Mrs. Hamilton,-an abbreviation of "Catherine Penelope Hamilton." A still more attractive spot lies a little farther on,—“ Green Park," the beautiful residence of the Countess of Belmore. The views from the front of this mansion are some of the finest about Rostrevor. This is the farthest extent of the walk in this direction. Retracing the same route, it will be found that the vale has not lost its charms by a first inspection. In returning, the beautiful vistas which open to the view in the distance, and the endless diversity of the sylvan scenery around, will more than keep the attention alive, and induce you rather to linger than to hasten forward. Perhaps a rest may be desirable before the ascent of Slieve Bane is attempted: if so, return to Rostrevor. This beautiful village is situate in the far extremity of the bay: it is quite a secluded spot. Designed to be rather the residence of private individuals than a place of business, there is nothing of the hurry and bustle so common to maritime villages. Many of the houses even turn their backs upon the street, that a better view of the charming scenery of the bay may be obtained. Rostrevor is comparatively a modern name: it was originally called Carrickavraghad. Under the Magen nisses, it was called Castlerory. When it passed into the possession of the Trevors it received its present name,-Ross Trevor. Ross, in Irish, signifies a promontory, Trevor's Promontory, or Headland. Some will have it that it was so named after Rose, the beautiful daughter of Sir Marmaduke Whitechurch, and Edward Trevor, a captain in Elizabeth's army, in compliment to whom, on their union, the name was bestowed; and for many years it was the seat of the head of the Trevor family as Barons of Dungannon. The site of the Castle can now be discovered with difficulty. The following lines are an appropriate lament over its fallen glories, from the pen of Sir Walter Scott: "Ah! Clandeboy, thy friendly floor Slieve Donard's oak shall light no more; Tell maiden's love nor hero's praise. The mantling brambles hide thy path,- All undistinguished in the glade Thy sire's glad home is prostrate laid: Their vassals wander wide and far, The lovely woods of Clandeboy." The tourist will find every attention in the very compact and well-appointed inn; and should he desire to prolong his stay, it will not be difficult to procure suitable quarters in the village. There are no public buildings except places of worship. A neat Gothic church of cut stone, adds much to the effect of the charming village scenery. There is also an old Catholic Chapel in the town, adjacent to the National Schools. The aspect of Rostrevor is peculiarly suited to invalids. Sheltered from the north and east, and partially from the west, it may be said to be open only to the south. As a watering-place it is every way desirable; and its beautiful walks and charming scenery are well calculated to soothe and cheer the minds of those who come in quest of health. After a rest and suitable refreshment, the ascent of SLIEVE BANE may be attempted. Looking from the village, the height appears considerable. This picturesque group of hills form the western termination of the great Mourne range, the highest of which, Slieve Donard, according to the Ordnance Survey, is 2796 feet above the sea. Slieve Bane is only 1600 feet; but most tourists, especially those of the fair sex, will, from the steepness of the ascent, find this a sufficient elevation to try their strength. We would recommend the tourist to walk out by "The Cottage," past the New Quay, and on to Wood House, a charming spot in itself, and well worthy of a visit. The house is built upon a narrow slope of land included between the road and the sea. Its privacy is so effectually preserved by the height of the wall that, were it not for the fluted and twisted chimneys which catch the eye, you would hardly suspect that there was anything to be seen. Upon gaining an entrance, which is never refused, a perfect little fairyland is discovered. The Wood House is an elegantly proportioned villa in the Elizabethan style, standing in the midst of an ingeniously arranged pleasure-ground, at a point which commands some of the finest views about Rostrevor; from it the town and ancient ruins, and picturesque mountains of Carlingford, are seen to great advantage. Beneath your feet, as you stand upon the promenade in front of the house, the waters of the bay wash the tiny cliffs and wooded shores of this exquisite little demesne; and altogether, we do not recollect to have seen more ingenuity and taste combined to take advantage of a site, than has been displayed by the courteous owner. After leaving this, just from the opposite side of the road, behind the house, you may commence the ascent of the mountain to THE CLOUGHMORE. Having climbed up about 900 feet, you arrive at this singular Druid stone, being a vast block of granite, about forty tons weight. It lies upon a projecting protuberance or ridge on its under side, which may have stood upon some other blocks, and thus have formed one of the curious monuments known as Logan stones or rocking stones. It is quite a puzzle to account for its existence at such a place. Conjecture is idle as to the means by which it may have been transported thither; whether by an erratic glacial deposit, or by art, it is impossible to say. Its peculiar situation on the brow of a hill, with a valley between it and Slieve Bane, is not opposed to the idea of its being transported by glacial agency, and its enormous weight seems utterly to exclude the notion of its being placed there by the art of man-yet there it is. Who can account for it? Apart from these speculations it will be found to be a most agreeable restingplace, especially upon a sultry day in July, and to afford a beautiful illustration of the grateful "shadow of a great rock in a weary land." Beneath its refreshing shade, while the body is recruiting its exhausted strength, the eye roams over the splendid scene which lies below and all around; beautiful as this is, it is much enhanced by the needful repose. On the extreme left, the highlands of Mourne are seen, in all their grandeur and variety, at their base, and stretching far and wide to the east and south, is the illimitable prospect of the sea; far off upon its bosom you just discern the shadowy outline of the Isle of Man, like a little cloud staining its tender azure with a deeper tint,-the Wicklow mountains,—the promontory of Howth,—and the paps of the Sugarloaves,-dimly discernible through the quivering haze that plays over the waters,-terminate the view far south. The view of the Lough of Carlingford from this point is truly grand: its double basins, enclosed between magnificent mountains, the ancient town of Carlingford on its little creek, with its picturesque ruins,-Rostrevor in |