Before we set out with our companion, it will be well to supply him with a guide, as accurate, at least, if not as amusing, as any one of the many he will have to encounter. The accompanying map is copied (by permission) from the published map of the Ordnance Survey. We have, however, added to it the names of the several rocks, and creeks, and pillars, which, although not recorded in the books, are seldom out of the mouths of the boatmen and peasantry. In making these additions we have been especially careful; consulting at least half a dozen "guides," by whom we were accompanied ; comparing their reports, both by sea and land, and scrupulously noting them down upon the original map we carried in our hand.

formidable body; and we were but little startled by the story of a quiet English commercial traveller, who being sent over to Belfast, thought he would indulge himself with a peep at the Causeway: but his desire to see the beauty of the country was mingled with a very unpleasing dread of the peasantry; and it was with considerable misgiving that he set forth alone, in his dennet, to feed his curiosity,-in considerable doubt as to his personal safety. It so happened, that on the morning of his arrival at the town of Bushmills the Causeway guides had been assembled to see a party off, which they are fond of doing; when the sight of a new tourist, who was journeying to the Causeway, immediately induced them to abandon their first intention; and they tendered their services in so determined, yet vociferous a manner, as to strengthen fears which had never been set at rest. Overcome by a panic he could not control, he demanded where he could find a magistrate, and galloped up the avenue to Bushmill-house, followed by the whole body of the Causeway guides, who, unable to understand the traveller's terror, fancied he was possessed of an evil spirit. Pale as a ghost, he implored the worthy magistrate's protection from "a band of robbers;" and it was some time before he could be convinced that the crowd were honest and harmless guides, only eager to show "his honour, God help him!" the very wonders he came so far to see. Alexander Mac Mullen Mac Cock headed a body of the most respectable, and at length the trembling traveller was convinced that he might trust himself alone with Irish peasants. This story, we assure our readess, is no exaggeration. But the guides at the Causeway do not injure the effect of the scene as they do in more rural and sylvan districts. At the Causeway, no matter how loud or numerous, their voices are frequently drowned by the roar of the waters; and they look so diminutive when contrasted with the huge and mighty columns of the Causeway, as to seem pigmies, rather than human beings: it is wonderful how they spring from rock to rock and maintain their footing so firmly that accidents are of rare occurrence. We only heard of three. One morning a guide who was early afoot discovered the body of a woman at the base of one of the precipices. She was young, and decently dressed, and no one knew who she was. She was carried to a cottage and "waked." A small subscription was made by the poor people for the purpose, and then she was buried," as if she had been one of themselves." A certificate of marriage, yet so unfortunately torn that the names were illegible, was found in her pocket; and her finger was circled by a wedding ring. There was something very touching in meeting such a death, unknown and unlamented. In the South, the more susceptible peasantry would have said many poetical things on such an incident; but at the Causeway they related it simply and calmly, yet with real feeling. Alick Mac Cock-as he is invariably called-told us of a woman whom he pointed out in a group on the strand, who fell 112 feet perpendicular descent, and then rolled about 50 feet afterwards; adding, that before this accident she had only one child, but she has had several since. The Antrim guide carelessly observed, there was nothing in that; but he always thought the fate of "wee Jamie" the saddest, for he was a "fine laddie:" and "wee Jamie's" fate was sad, if indeed it be wisdom to sorrow for those who are cut off from the cares of life before they canker the heart. "Wee Jamie," and a little girl—a neighbour's child-had clambered some rocks together. There was a deep chasm; the boy sprang lightly over, the girl faltered; he encouraged her-held out his hand and laughed at her fears. Somewhat assured, she advanced; he balanced himself over to grasp her hand-she drew back: but the lad had overreached himself, and fell headlong down the chasm.

The father of one of the guides, Moran, was killed by falling from the cliff above those huge columns called "The Organ."

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To this map, then, we direct the attention of the reader; for it will be our Although, as a less prominent wonder, he will be

cave may

guide, as we shall be his. called upon to visit Port CoonCave after he has seen the Causeway; as it occurs first on the map, we shall first take him there. The be visited either by sea or by land. Our escape at "the Salt-pans " was fresh in our memory, and we preferred the latter. Boats may row into it to the distance of a hundred yards or more; but the swell is sometimes dangerous; and although the land entrance to the cave is slippery, and a fair

proportion of climbing is necessary to achieve the object, still the magnificence of the excavation, its length and the formation of the interior, would repay greater exertion; the stones of which the roof and sides are composed, and which are of a rounded form, and embedded as it were in a basaltic paste, are formed of concentric spheres resembling the coats of an onion; the innermost recess has been compared to the side aisle of a Gothic cathedral; the walls are most painfully slimy to the touch; the discharge of a loaded gun reverberates amid the rolling of the billows so as to thunder a most awful effect; and the notes of a bugle, we were told, produced delicious echoes*.

* We heard a story of a giant-hermit who inhabited Port Coon Cave in the very olden time. The giant was of a kind and humble nature, and instead of taking vengeance upon the world, which had used him very ill, he resolved to end his life praying and fasting in a sea-cave, and made a solemn vow that he would never touch food brought to him by mortal hands. Of course Satan tempted him, as we were told, in the usual way, by beautiful sea-ladies bringing him "meat fresh and salt; " but though the saintly giant was "faint with the hunger," and the perfume of the savoury edibles was most tempting, he would not break his vow; he had sworn never to touch food brought to him by mortal hands, and so he turned away from the fair sealadies and their temptations with a groan that reverberated through every pipe pillar of the Causeway Organ. Well, after he had been left alone, and was praying-praying, and almost at the last gasp, what should he see coming "walloping" through the water to him, with something in her mouth, but a seal! "Holy giant," she says, "cat what I have brought, and you break no vow. I have no mortal hands to tempt you, so be satisfied; it is better to live on and set your back to the troubles of the world than to lie down like a dog and die under them." And the giant ate, for sure enough there was nothing against his vow in eating what a seal brought him in her mouth; and he was fed in the cave by seals till the day of his death, and they were kind and good to him from the first to the last.

The visit to Port Coon cave is but an episode in the tour; the tourist will return to the inn and select his "guide;" to whom he will pay half-a-crown for his day's labour, attention, and information. The descent to the coast is then commenced; he will have to walk about a greater part of a mile, before he arrives upon level ground-if that can be called level, over which Time and Nature have scattered huge rocks and fragments of gigantic pillars. Below him, to the left, he sees the graceful miniature bay of Portnabaw; nearer, the singular formation called the Weir's Snoot; and after a brief progress, still sea-ward, he beholds the two guardians of the placethe Steucans, great and little-hill-promontories which separate the Bay of Portnabaw from Port Ganniay, at

the eastern extremity of which is the Causeway; dividing Port Ganniay from Port Noffer. A rugged road has been constructed at the foot of the hills, along the coast. In the midst of broken columns, among which we now tread, is a small well -the Giant's Well-of purest spring-water; beside which an

aged crone sits to welcome visitors, and supply them with a refreshing drink. As yet, however, although the Causeway is within a stone's throw, nothing of its extraordinary character is seen; we proceed a few steps onward, and still there is little to startle us; we actually stand upon it, and ask, in a tone of sadness, "Is this really the object of which we have heard so much and have come so far to visit?" The invariable effect of the first impression is disappointment. This is, however, soon succeeded by a sensation of excited curiosity; and that soon gives place to a combined feeling of astonishment, admiration, and delight. The imagination can have pictured nothing like it; written accounts have conveyed to us no idea of its marvels; the artist has altogether failed in rendering us familiar with the reality*.

As we are enabled to give, in a note-upon high authority-the facts, necessary to a clear understanding of the wonderful scene, our details may

* In the accompanying engraving the artist has endeavoured to preserve the general characteristics of the wonderful scene, and, at the same time, to convey a notion of its pictorial effect. The view is taken from the west, soon after passing the Steucans. The peculiarities of the Causeway were, however, copied best, in 1740, by Mrs. Susannah Drury, whose two drawings were engraved soon afterwards, and remain to this day unrivalled for accuracy and excellence. The whole coast is, indeed, especially rich in subjects for the artist. We have illustrated it somewhat largely; but the tourist who compares the copies with the originals will perceive how very difficult it is-if it be not impossible-to render justice to its grandeur, beauty, and sublimity.