it was surrounded. Away in the distance stretched the long and lofty range of the Ballycroy and Erris mountains, and ever and anon some fresh intricacy of the bay brought a new beauty before our delighted eyes. Here and there, on the side of the mountain along which our road ran, quantities of blue forgetme-nots filled the ditches, lying like mists of azure vapor on the brown ground. At last we reached Achill Sound. The sea dividing the island from the mainland here narrows to a channel of from two hundred to five hundred yards in breadth. Some nine years ago the people were obliged to cross in a ferryboat very much out of repair. Often the passage was most dangerous and difficult, owing to the rapidity of the current and the strength of the wind. On fair days the ferry was laden, not only with passengers, but also with sheep, pigs, and young cattle. Old cattle were tied by the horns with a rope made fast to the stern of the boat, and forced to swim as best they could through the rushing tide! At such times the women might be seen, with their petticoats tucked up so as to display an amplitude of sturdy leg, carrying their pigs and sheep to the boat through the foaming water while their lords and masters watched the process and smoked! On fair day, as Mr. O'D— was watching the heavily laden craft making its difficult way across the Sound, he heard an old man remark as if to himself, "Begob! but maybe she'll do it yet." "Do what?" asked Mr. O'D—. “Why, get across, your honor," said the old man. "Well, why shouldn't she?" asked Mr. O'D-. "Well, in troth, your honor," was the startling reply, "she had a hole knocked in her on the rocks to-day, and we had to shtuff it wid a bit sod of turf!" About ten years ago a philanthropic gentleman of the name of Porter initiated a movement with his money and his energy, which resulted in a handsome swivel bridge being built across the passage at a cost of $6,000; and a great boon it has since proved to both the islanders and tourists. | Mashonaland, so we read, has its occasional gastronomical pleasures and difficulties. Achill Sound has its culinary difficulties rarely attended by any joys other than those which appetite brings. When I say that the chief feature of a meal is delay, and the staple article of diet is chops, and when I add that a chop in Achill is a piece of meat hewn unsymmetrically from any portion of any sheep, and cooked anyhow and anywhere, I give a fair picture of our lunch. After a considerable delay we crossed the bridge, from which we got a good view of the Sound north and south, and of the island white-dotted with cottages and patch-worked with green fields on a brown moorland ground; and in a few minutes we were well en route towards the western extremity of Achill. At this point our journey was again rather uninteresting, its chief features being dreary bog and mountain after passing Glendarrary, the residence of the chief landlord of the island. When at length we gained the summit of the ridge of hills which forms the backbone of the island, a magnificent scene broke upon us. In front lay the Atlantic, blue in the distance where the sun smiled on it, green with transparent shafts of emerald light where the huge, white-crested waves came curling and | breaking in long lines of surge on the flat yellow sands of Keel Bay. As we descended the hill the dark outline of the Minnahaun cliffs came into view on our left, sheering down hundreds of feet into the sea, where the waves dashed and churned angrily on the black rocks at their base. Tall Slievemore, half veiled in a pink-tinted haze, rose to the north; and in continuation of it we could trace the dimmer, more distant line of the Annagh hills. Croghan towered high above us in the centre, distant too; and somewhere high up in the haze that enveloped it lay the lodge whither we were bound. We passed through the little villages of Dookinella and Keel, which last consists of an intricate cluster of huts dominated by a police barrack, and up a slight ascent to the coastguard station, which, with its air of scrupulous neatness and cleanliness, its flagstaff, and its trim paths edged with little snowwhite stones, stood out a point of civilized interest on our wild journey. A few of the men in their blue jackets were lounging about, forming, with their neat figures and English faces, a pleasant contrast to the surroundings of the station. The quaint, poverty-stricken village of Dooagh now lay at our feet, and the horses had to go slowly and carefully down the long, steep hill leading to it. Here the road was being repaired by the poor people on Mr. Balfour's charitable and necessary relief works, and gangs composed chiefly of women and old men-the young men having nearly all, as is their annual custom, gone to England for the harvest-were working at intervals along the way under the supervision of a red-coated sapper of the Royal Engineers and three stalwart members of the Royal Irish Constabulary. The houses of the little village appear to nestle dangerously near the seashore, and the long Atlantic rollers thunder up to the very cabin doors. The cottages, with their rude thatch made fast by straw ropes to the end of which stones were attached, were built roughly in an oblong shape without plan or arrangement, and ran into one another in an apparently inextricable tangle. The men, women, and children, as they crowded round to have a look at the strangers, formed striking groups. The women were rather comfortably clad, and looked most picturesque in their short petticoats of homespun flannel, dyed a dark purplish magenta. In many cases colored handkerchiefs were tied over their heads. Here and there was a pretty face illuminated by fine eyes, but in most instances toil and exposure had left their mark on all except the children. These latter had their full share of the ubiquitous freshness and beauty of childhood. Barelegged, brown-faced, their scanty raiment scarcely concealing their sturdy little bodies, they eyed us wonderingly. Pleasant voices on all sides bade us "Welcome to Dooagh." Quantities of fish, such as ling and haddock, were drying on the thatch outside the cottages. One old dame we noticed perched on her own roof-tree, her purple petticoat making a dark patch against the yellow straw. As she was spreading her fish two young girls underneath were just about to play a practical joke on her by removing the ladder by which she had climbed up, but our appearance on the scene diverted them from their purpose, and they joined the group to stare at us. At the end of the village we stopped for a few minutes at the only shop. Here we were at once surrounded by a number of boys eager to carry our luggage over the bog to the lodge above. The road was passable for vehicles but little further, so, having engaged our carriers, we all left the wagonette to walk the remainder of the journey. We were now joined by a most important personage- Jack Gaughan the guide, whose picture appeared in the Daily Graphic some time since, a fact of which he is very proud. Eighty years of age, Jack is as straight and hale as a healthy man of fifty. He has a firm and rooted belief in whiskey, and considers it the best medicine for every kind of ailment from a relaxed throat to "rhamatism." Our road had now dwindled into a mere track up the cliffs. Higher and higher we rose until the sea lay some five hundred feet below. The Minnahaun cliffs behind us were fading into a vague greyness softened by distance. The sea had paled to grey relieved by faint streaks of green. Here and there a dash of white foam, where the tide rippled over some scarce hidden rock, broke its smooth monotony. Away to the south the cone-shaped peak of Croagh Patrick looked faint and dim; while the great, silent, soft expanse of ocean stretched away to the measureless west. The Bills Rocks showed some miles out to sea, a lonely black mass ringed with foam. In the direction of our path, beyond the mountain that we were on, the perpendicular headland of Keem jutted into the sea. Far above us towered the dark crest of Croghan, purple against the opaltinted sky. We were drinking in the beauty of the scene, when suddenly, as if by magic, a last long ray shot out from the setting sun, which up to this had been completely hidden behind a bank of dove-colored cloud, and lo! moun. tains and sea were bathed in a glow of rosy splendor. looked out over the cliffs and sea, and over the valley and village of Dooagh below. A few odd books lay scattered about-a curious medley-a novel by Colonel Lawrence, some dilapidated numbers of Judy belonging to past years, and a tattered copy of "Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour." Happy and hungry, we unpacked and attacked our dinner, and surprised even ourselves at the raid we made on our provisions. The next morning was hot and breathless. We were early awakened by the freckle-faced matron's daughter, a ponderous girl of seventeen, knocking at our door. "Good-marnin'!" she said, as she stumped in, bearing in her hands a Is it not Ouida who says that to some, sunset suggests nightingales, to others dinner? Though pensive we were hungry, so we turned our backs on the superb view and walked towards the lodge, which stood back a few hundred yards from the cliffs. Corrymore | steaming soup-tureen, which she consisted of a block of grey buildings on a patch of isolated green on the mountain side. After unpacking our provisions and giving our orders about dinner to the caretakeress-a stout, freckle-faced matron-we went to explore the house and arrange about rooms. A long, low, stone passage, covered in with glass, ran the whole length of one side of the house, forming a rude conservatory, where heliotrope, geraniums, and other flowers straggled in scented luxuriance. The sittingroom, kitchen, staircase, and two bedrooms opened off this passage, while up-stairs were three more bedrooms. All these chambers were panelled with oak, worm-eaten wreckage most of it, that had been washed ashore years before. The furniture was simple. The looking-glasses had a fashion of revolving unless propped by a water-bottle or something solid, and when fixed returned an atrabilarious reflection to the inquiring eye. The windows were very small, and when opened by an unwary person fell down with a jerk and a rush, most unpleasant if one's fingers lingered in the way.. This, however, is a feature in the windows of many of the houses in the remoter parts of the west of Ireland, as Mr. Balfour found to his cost when travelling there. The dining-room was very comfortable, if a bit untidy. A large window LIVING AGE. VOL. XI. 531 gravely set down on the floor. Then she withdrew without another word. The tureen was full of some brown liquid closely resembling clear soup. After eying this inquiringly and with suspicion for some time, it flashed upon Jack that it must be hot water for washing purposes, and that the color was due to the water having been taken from a stream running through the bog. The soup-tureen had survived the vicissitudes of many years' breakages; the hot-water cans had presumably succumbed to wear and tear. The fitness of things had to give place to expediency. I wondered, if the case had been vice versa, whether the soup would have been served up in the hotwater cans? The men of our party all bathed in a stream behind the lodge, while Mrs. O'D and I shared the only bath the house possessed in these its later days. When I had finished with it Miss Gcame up and tilted the contents out of the window in the most matter-of-fact way, and then took it into Mrs. O'D-'s room. After a plain but excellent breakfast the men all started to go sea-fishingCaptain S- arrayed in the pride and glory of his new oilskins. Mrs. O'Dand I started for Keem, accompanied by one of Mrs. G―'s numerous little boys, a sturdy, brown-legged lad with a shock of fair hair and large blue eyes, who carried our lunch-basket and acted as our guide. He was an active little fellow, and trotted along gaily, chatting freely. Mrs. O'D made a sketch of him in his picturesque rags, through which here and there his skin gleamed bare and brown. The road to Keem ran along the side of the mountain which on our right rose sheer up above us. On our left was a precipitous descent to the sea, which, four hundred feet below, lay green and transparent, lapping the grey rocks, and breaking in gentlest ripples of delicate foam against them. At first it made me giddy to look down from such a height, but after awhile I grew accustomed to it; and, as the road continued to rise higher, I quite enjoyed peeping over and watching the flocks of rock pigeons flying in and out of the clefts in the cliffs below. Captain Boycott, it is said, used constantly to drive tandem along this road, unprotected by any embankment, where one false step would mean dismal grief. Fancy the horror of a shieing leader or jibbing wheeler in such a place! Higher and ever higher wound the road and rougher and rougher it became. No car or cart of any description could pass along it now, and we found it difficult to pick our way among the boulders and holes. At length we reached the summit of our path, and Keem Bay lay beneath us bounded on each side by lofty hills, its clear green water mingling with a bright semicircle of yellow sands. I could not describe the grandeur of form, the loveliness and variety of coloring, on which our delighted eyes feasted. At length we rose and continued our way on the road that now sloped steeply downwards towards the bay, our little guide trying our nerves by the airy way in which he skipped along the edge of the precipice. About half-way down, lying back from the road, is what is locally called the Diamond Quarry. The crystals found there are of no value except as a curiosity. They resemble amethysts, and vary in color from an opaque milky mauveness to a clear deep purple. Ferns grew in masses amidst the great boulders scattered about, and the banks of a little stream that rippled down from the mountain to the sea were covered with a wild profusion of London pride and forget-me-not. This stream was spanned by a picturesque stone bridge. under the shelter of whose arch a family had lived some time in the past. The floor of this curious dwelling consisted of planks running crosswise, supported from underneath. The arch of the bridge formed the ceiling, and the ends of the arch were boarded up, with the exception of a small opening left for a doorway, which was approached by a plank thrown out from the bank of the stream. But the day was changing. Dark clouds were stealing up slowly from the north-west, and dimness and greyness were almost imperceptibly creeping over sea, sky, and mountain. So we finished our sketching and wading, and, having fortified ourselves and our guide with lunch, started off gaily to climb to the summit of the Keem cliffs. A little way up, facing the sea, and lying in the hollow between the Keem and Croghan mountains, we came across the ruins of an old lodge which also was a residence of Captain Boycott in the days before he went to Corrymore. Now it is used as a shelter for the spectral Achill cattle. A group of young girls who were acting as herds, in their bright-colored petticoats and shawls, stood out in a pleasant contrast to the grey walls of the building and the green and brown of the mountain, and gave a little sympathetic life to the scene. Half an hour's steady climbing brought us to the summit of the cliffs, but alas! for the view. A grey, damp mist was closing in from the sea, and Croghan's great head above us already wrapped in cloud. was We crawled to the edge of the cliff and peered over. Eight hundred feet below we could just catch a glimpse of the sea fighting its endless battle with the eternal rocks. There was no sigu, however, of the fishing-boat we had hoped to see, and we felt uneasy at the thought of that small craft being, Instantly there was great commotion. pitched about at the mercy of those big The coxswain made weird noises and waves that thundered and hissed so poked at the monster with an oar to angrily below. We grew giddy looking keep it off the boat. One of the crew down from such a height; but here and shouted that the boat would be upset. there ponies grazed unconcernedly on Mr. B—, whose heart had never the very verge of precipices, while quailed at the stiffest wall in Galway, their foals gambolled about with as stood up in the boat on a thwart. much confidence as if they were in an Captain S, with the military instinct enclosed meadow! Far down we could strong upon him, shouted out, "Kill the see a few sheep picking up a scanty beast-kill the brute!" Mr. V— gazed living on perilous ledges; they looked at the intruder through his eye-glass mere white dots against the cliff. with well-bred curiosity. Mr. O'D-seized his repeating rifle, which at once in some mysterious way got jammed. Everybody got in everybody else's way, and in the midst of all the confusion the sunfish wisely sank and did not reappear. By the time we reached the path leading from the cliff road to the lodge the mist had turned to rain that came down in torrents. We gave a last look at the bay, and in a moment, sea, mountains, the rocks had disappeared, wrapped in a thick white fog. Toiling on, with petticoats flapping round our ankles and soaked boots, we at length reached the welcome shelter of the house, dragged ourselves wet and weary up-stairs to change our saturated clothes, and then settled down to afternoon tea. Dinner had been ordered for eight o'clock, but we found, when we went to Mrs. G- about half past six to suggest the advisability of putting down the mutton, that she had already cooked it! "Ah! shure ma'am," she said, in her slow, stolid way, "I was just goin' to dish it whin yez came in." This ignorance of time was a difficulty we had not anticipated, but to hungry people mutton hot or mutton cold is very much the same thing. At half past seven the men appeared, dripping with rain and sea-water, but in the best of spirits. After a long row in the morning they had just got to their fishing-ground when the clouds from the north-west began to threaten. So the boatmen counselled an immediate return. As all the party had been quite prostrated with sea-sickness, they were, I think, rather glad to turn back, though of course none of them would own as much. One exciting incident had cured them all for a few moments. A huge sunfish appeared suddenly within a few feet of the stern of the boat and swam steadily after it. Within the bay they cruised about under the shelter of the cliffs and caught a large quantity of fish. On landing at Keem, Captain S― had missed his footing on the slippery rocks and fallen head over heels into the sea. After dinner that night Captain Sdiscovered that there was a leveret in the kitchen which had been caught by one of the young G -S. We begged him to bring it into the dining-room, and he appeared shortly with the poor little thing wrapped in a napkin, explaining that it was so slippery and difficult to hold. We offered it everything on the table, but the only food that tempted it was a piece of cheese, at which the little creature nibbled eagerly. In the morning we divided forces. Jack proposed that Mrs. O'D- and I should drive with him to Doogort, a village on the north side of the island; the others went up to the lake behind the lodge to catch trout. The walk down to the village was very enjoyable in the warm morning sunshine, the heat being pleasantly tempered by the breeze that blew gently off the cool sea. We met endless strings of ponies laden, some with creels of turf, others with "scraws," long, wide sods of turf like mats, cut from the heathery grass and used as thatch for the cottages. The ponies were led by girls in picturesque attire, and in some instances the damsels were riding, seated behind |