RAMBLES IN IRELAND. No. IV. AFTER leaving the Giant's Causeway, we drove through Bushmills to Dunluce Castle, now a desolate ruin, but once a noble seat of the Antrim family. It was an extensive building, and its remarkably insulated position made it a safe retreat. The oldest part of the structure in some parts appears to overhang the sea; and the fall of a portion of the building on one occasion so alarmed the family who were residing in it at the time, that another castle was erected on the main land. The approach to the older ruins is by a narrow wall across a chasm, sixty or seventy feet in depth; and as the path is not two feet broad, with no rails on either side, it requires a steady foot and cool head to pass over in safety. The ruins will well repay the inspection of the tourist. After about two hours' ride we reached Coleraine, in our way thither passing several quarries, where the columnar character of the basaltic strata revealed itself as at the causeway. This town is as neat as any in the north of Ireland, and gives evidence of the existence and influence, the patient labour and perseverance of the protestant colonists, who were sent over by the Irish Society, in the commencement of the seventeenth century, and who located themselves in the county of Londonderry. There is a very handsome bridge here, across the Bann; and two miles from the town a fine salmon leap, formed by a ledge of rocks that cross the river. It is a very imposing object, adding greatly to the beauty of the scenery, as the road along the banks of the river is traversed. At this town my American fellow-traveller left me, turning southwards in the direction of Dublin, and I journeyed on alone to New Town Limavady. The path gradually ascends to the summit of a ridge of hills, whence Loch Fyle is first visible; and turning thence when I had gained the height to look back towards Coleraine, a splendid view of the valley in which it is situated was presented, with the grey mountains rising behind, among which Knocklaid stands most conspicuous, and up whose barren sides the golden hues of the setting sun were seen slowly creeping. Our road, from the elevated position we had now obtained, was one of extreme interest and beauty. In the western horizon the mountains of Donegal stretched from north to south in wild confusion; at their base lay the waters of the Foyle, cold and grey in the deepening twilight; on their north-eastern shore the lofty headland which rises abruptly from the sandy flat of Magilligan. The descent to the town is very rapid; the landscape around becoming more and more beautifully wooded, and the mountains to the left alternately retiring and advancing; here presenting bold escarpments, and there a perfect and gigantic amphitheatre of hills. The cultivation in this part of the country seemed to be of a very excellent order, and signs of prosperity were visible both in the town and its neighbourhood. Mrs. Hall, in her work on Ireland, to which I have already referred, dismisses this place in fourteen words; and yet I know of no one spot where a tourist might spend a few hours with more delight than in the splendid glen through which the Roe rushes, about a mile from the town. In several parts it presents scenery equal to anything I saw in the Dargle, in the county of Wicklow. A chieftain named Kane had a castle erected on one of the lofty rocks that crown the sides of the glen, faint traces of which may even now be discernible. The waterfall here is exceedingly beautiful. Let no one pass through New Town Limavady without visiting this lovely spot. On Saturday afternoon I left for Londonderry. My expectations of this place had been highly raised. The deep, historical, and even tragic interest that invests it in the estimation of every protestant, awakens peculiar feelings on the approach to the city. It is very beautifully situated on the sides of a hill, that gradually rises up from the shores of Loch Foyle, which is here crossed eastward of the city by a wooden bridge, upwards of a thousand feet long. The walls of the place are still standing, and are of great strength, although at present, and I hope for ever, they are only used as a public promenade. The cathedral of St. Patrick towers high, with a tapering spire, above all the surrounding buildings. In the porch of this structure, on a pedestal, stands the bomb-shell that was thrown into the city, and fell in the cathedral yard, containing the demand of James for the capitulation of the place. Another memorial of the siege is the column erected to the honour of General Walker, a clergyman, whom the circumstances of that stirring period placed at the head of the garrison. Some of the cannon used peals, and expressing their perfect readi- Londonderry has several good public buildings; and among the churches and chapels found here, is a Roman Catholic cathedral, within the very walls. This, until very lately, would not have been permitted. It was in this place I noticed the most orderly observance of the sabbath that I witnessed in Ireland. During the hours of service scarcely any one appeared in the streets, and immediately subsequent to Divine worship, as soon as the attendants had returned to their homes, there was again a perfect quietude, a striking contrast to what I witnessed at Limerick and Dublin, whose streets, alive with public processions, bore more the appearance of a fair than that which befits a Christian sabbath in a professedly Christian land. My route led me along the banks of the Foyle for several miles, through a most lovely country, to Strabane, a bustling, thriving town on the eastern side of the river Mourne, and situated in Tyrone. It was market day, and thronged with clothiers-a kind of Irish Houndsditch. This place is opposite to Lifford, in the county of Donegal, which we entered as soon as we crossed the river. Five miles from Lifford is Raphoe, the seat of a diocese in the province of Armagh. Our course now lay through a wild, and in many parts a cheerless country, as far as Stranorlar, where the troops of beggars that followed us were in a condition the most wretched in which it is possible to imagine a human creature to be found. One boy had nothing but literally a bundle of rags, fastened by a string, and thrown over his shoulders, like a horse's collar. They ran by the side of the coach, vociferating their ap From Stranorlar, the road presented few features of interest until we came to Barnes's Gap, a magnificent pass between the mountains, leading to the town of Donegal. This is one of the "lions" of the county, and deservedly admired; it is about four miles long. The mountains, which at their feet nearly approach each other, leaving in some parts only sufficient room for a brawling stream, and a narrow roadway, gradually retire further from each other towards their summits, which tower high upwards to the clouds. Many cascades were leaping down their sides to join the stream that flows, or rather rushes, through the defile towards Donegal. Huge masses of rock that appear to have rolled from the heights were scattered about in all directions; at times appearing as if they forbade all future progress, until, as we neared them, we discovered the road abruptly turning round them. We came out at length into the midst of a most beautiful valley, and on our right discovered Loch Eske, crowned with some small but fertile islands, over which the huge mountain range to the west was casting its broad and dark shadow. Before us was the town of Donegal, whose situation is one of the loveliest in Ireland. Early the next morning, in company with a friend, I repaired to an eminence, called Dimrock, originally selected for the site of a fort or castle, whence its name. From this elevated spot I obtained the best view of the town, and the surrounding neighbourhood. Every object was glowing beneath a cloudless blue sky; the mountains wearing a soft rosy hue, and the valley looking deliciously green. A magnificent amphitheatre of hills spread themselves before me, broken towards the north by the Gap, through which I had passed the day before, and towards the south, by the bay that takes its name from the town. In the midst of its glittering waters were several verdant islands, some of them inhabited; and beyond, far in the misty distance, might be discerned the mountains of Sligo. Even Croagh Patrick on clear days is visible hence, a distance of seventy miles. It was a splendid panorama, well worthy the slight toil of the ascent that was necessary to obtain it. After leaving Donegal, we took the road to Ballyshannon, passing an arm of the sea, which the ingenuity and perseverance of a spirited proprietor in that neighbourhood have wrested from the billows, and which is being brought under cultivation. The village of Ballintra, in the route, is beautifully situated, and has a fine commanding view of the Bay. On our left was the famous Loch Derg, in which is one of the mightiest strongholds of superstition in Ireland, St. Patrick's Purgatory. This place is annually the resort of thousands of pilgrims, who go thither for the purpose of doing penance; and although it is said that many of the priests discourage the visitation to the bed, it is to be feared that their number is small, and their dissuasion remarkably feeble; for if report spoke true, there had been as large an influx of penitents during the season, which had just ended, as had ever been known. There are several islands on the lake, to one of which, called Station Island, the pilgrims are carried from the mainland in a ferryboat that is continually plying to and fro. Around the chapel on this spot is a pathway of sharp stones, along which they pass a certain number of times, according to the intensity of their misdirected devotion, or the nature of their vows, or the penance to which they have been sentenced. This they perambulate with naked feet for a specified time, and repeat appointed prayers, most of which, according to the statement of one who went thither, are offered to the virgin Mary. The pilgrims then, after a brief rest, enter the chapel, or prison, as it is termed, where amid comparative darkness, and by the skilful arrangements of the priests, with everything around calculated to chill the heart with terror, they again mutter their prayers, until, overcome by fatigue and heat, and the deprivation of their proper rest, they sink on the floor in utter weariness. But they are speedily aroused from their slumbers by persons who go round the place with sticks of no contemptible size and strength, to keep the pilgrims awake. This is regarded as of importance to the due discharge of their penitential exercises; and they seldom complain, but, on the contrary, express gratitude at the friendly, though painful arousings which they receive. After a night of mingled ludicrousness and terror-the latter state of mind, however, predominating — the pilgrims are permitted to leave the prison, and after partaking of the water of the lake just warmed, and which is then called wine the only refreshment enjoyed for twenty-four hours—they again commence their tour round the sharp pathway encircling the prison. Confession to the priest follows this, then absolution; and as the number who have to pass through this routine is very large, it is often performed with the utmost rapidity; and long before half the confession has been made, the penitent has to make way for others. They then hasten to receive the sacrament; and this, with another walk round the beds, concludes the series of the disgraceful performances at St. Patrick's Purgatory. One blushes for poor humanity that can thus suffer itself to be deluded, and cannot repress an indignant feeling that rises in the heart at the detail of all this mummery, against those who are the fosterers and perpetrators of ignorance and spiritual imbecility. How unlike all this to the simple institutions of the New Testament! Repentance and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, who invites the weary and heavy laden to his bosom, that he may give them rest, and put on them a yoke that is easy, and a burden that is light, here give place to ineffectual penances, bodily mortifications that only sour the spirit, and a blind adherence to the doctrines and commandments of men; which things can scarcely be said to have "a shew of wisdom." Who does not, from his very soul, pity a people so led astray by designing men? for it would be an insult to their understanding and common sense to suppose that the priests do not see through it all, and know the whole routine of service to be a ridiculous imposture. How solemn the responsibility resting on British Christians to exert their energies to banish the film of thick darkness that is blinding the minds of the people in this neglected country, and to burst the galling chains of their spiritual despotism! Popery should be spoken of, if possible, in words of fire, that they may burn into the hearts of the most thoughtless and indifferent on this subject; one which so materially affects the peace of society, and the everlasting interests of millions of souls, and the authority and glory of the eternal God. T. A. THE REFINING-POT. THE sun, on the evening of a sabbathday, was throwing its setting beams upon an ancient mansion, whose turrets and projecting windows were partly hung with ivy, and the rooks and crows were flying heavily towards their place of repose; when an old man walked slowly across the wide hall of the mansion, and seated himself on a chair in a recess formed by one of the projecting windows. A table stood before him, on which lay a large Bible, wide open. The old man began to read, and in a short time he was joined by a friend, who took his seat on the other side of the table. and superstitious delusions of popery long found a strong hold where now the two lowly servants of the Lord, professing a purer faith, and practising a more holy life and conversation, were sharing the unsearchable riches of Christ, by taking sweet counsel together, and reading in company the word of the Most High. Save that of the warbling birds around the mansion, there was no sound heard, but the voice of the two persons sitting together, given back, as it were, in a lower tone by the echoing walls. The very spirit of repose seemed to dwell there; neither was that peace withheld which the world neither gives nor takes away. The elder personage of the two was a sober looking man. Threescore and ten years had passed over him, his hair was grey, and his countenance bespoke him to be a reflecting Christian. He had that gravity in his face which might, at the first glance, have been taken for severity; but the kindliness of his manner, the subdued tone of his voice, and the words which fell from his lips, fully ap proved him to be a servant of the Redeemer, fervent in spirit, and anxiously desirous to persuade his fellow-sinners to accompany him to the fountain opened for all uncleanness, and to partake of the living waters of salvation. It was a delightful evening, for the singing birds had not yet returned to rest; the trees were arrayed in their freshest verdure; the sky, for the most part, save here and there, where a silvery cloud added to its beauty, was of the deepest blue; while, in the west, the retiring sun shot upwards its golden glory. To the lowly disciple of Christ, who regards God as his heavenly Father, and worships him in spirit and in truth, the earth and the heavens appear to possess additional charms on the sabbathday. Not that the birds sing more pleasantly, or that the tree puts forth a greener leaf; not that the sky is brighter, or that the sun is adorned with greater splendour; but, because the services of Being much older than his companion, the sanctuary raise, and purify, and make who listened to him with attention and grateful, the heart of the Christian, so respect, he acted the part of a Christian that he regards the works of God with a counsellor, and frequently paused in more devotional spirit; and while the reading the Scriptures, and made rekindly influence of the gospel of peace marks of his own, with an air of earneststeals over him, and he feels that "theness and anxiety, which showed how deLord is gracious, and full of compassion, slow to anger, and of great mercy,' he looks around him with joy, and is ready to cry aloud, in the fulness of his heart, "The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament showeth his handywork." The hall, wherein the two persons were sitting, was very spacious, and paved with stone, and an armorial bearing of stained glass glittered in the window. Around the oak-panelled walls hung portraits of some of the ancient owners of the place; but the colour of the pictures had faded; the canvass was tattered, and the massy frames were much impaired by time. The mansion, in a distant period, had been a religious establishment, and the cruel, and bigoted, sirous he was to confirm the heart of his companion in his love and reverence for Divine truth. He had found too much benefit from the word of God, not to recommend it to others, well knowing that "all Scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness." After reading and conversing upon many parts of the word of God, he came to the passage, "But who may abide the day of his coming? and who shall stand when he appeareth? for he is like a refiner's fire;" which having read, he pulled off his spectacles, and, placing them by the side of the Bible, thus, in an earnest manner, addressed his companion : If God trieth "the hearts and the reins;" if" he shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver;" if "he shall bring every work into judgment, and every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil; what manner of men ought we to be to endure such a trial? and in what manner of works should we abound?" How necessary it is that we should not deceive ourselves, but rather seek to know the real value of what we possess. This knowledge is necessary to the young and to the old, to the rich and to the poor; but, of all the people in the world, it is the most necessary to those who are looking far beyond the present world, believing, that after the joys and sorrows of earth are passed, there will be an “inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fadeth not away;" that there is "a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens," prepared for the lowly followers of the Lamb, the humble and sincere disciples of Jesus Christ. If our possessions are partly dross and partly pure gold, how shall we estimate them aright? If we ask the opinion of our fellow-sinners, they will deceive us. If we inquire of our own hearts, they are sure to deceive us; the only way, then, appears to be, to put them all into the crucible of the Scriptures; the refining-pot of God's most holy word. If we had to live in this world only, it might be easy enough to find out the worth of our possessions without casting them into the refining-pot; but as we are to live in another world also, and as God is to sit in judgment over us, "as a Refiner and purifier of silver," they must be put into the refining-pot before we shall know their value. It would be folly to value that very highly to-day which can be of no use to us to-morrow, and so in like manner will it be foolish to think much of those possessions in time, which will be valueless in eternity. We can only tell the worth of what is put into the refining-pot, by that which comes out of it after it has passed through the action of the fire. The Bible is before us, let us, then, humbly looking for the influence of God the Holy Spirit to direct us, try the worth of earthly things, by casting them into the refining-pot. But what shall we first cast therein? Let us take all that is considered desirable among mankind; the power, the riches, the greatness, the glory, yea, all that the heart of man naturally desireth; all "the lust of the eye, and the pride of life;" let us keep back nothing which the world considers valuable, let all be put into the refining-pot, that we may know what the fire will spare, and what it will consume. Let us begin with the kings of the earth, clad in robes of purple and crimson, with their sceptres in their hands, and their sparkling diadems upon their brows; let us take their might and their majesty, with all their goodly possessions, and see what will remain of them after they have been placed in the refining-pot, and passed through the fire. Alas! the possessions of kings must be tried in the same manner as the possessions of other men, for "God is no respecter of persons: but in every nation he that feareth him, and worketh righteousness, is accepted with him," while "the wicked," (even though they be kings,) "shall be turned into hell, and all the nations that forget God." God hath said unto kings, as well as unto others, "Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return," and, "We must all appear before the judgment-seat of Christ; that every one may receive the things done in his body, according to that he hath done, whether it be good or bad." When "the kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, against the Lord, and against his Anointed," "He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh: the Lord shall have them in derision. Then shall he speak unto them in his wrath, and vex them in his sore displeasure. -Be wise now, therefore, O ye kings: be instructed, ye judges of the earth. Serve the Lord with fear, and rejoice with trembling.' We see, then, that the might and majesty and glorious possessions of kings are no more than the dust of the balance before God. If a king be allowed to wear a crown in heaven, as well as on earth, it will not be because he was a ruler of men, but because he was a servant of God. Such kings as rule and reign in righteousness in this world, will reign in glory in the world to come, but other kings may expect to be broken "with a rod of iron," and "dashed in pieces, like a potter's vessel." To the lowliest of the children of men it is said, as well as to a king, "Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life." Thus it appears that the pride, and |