Druidic stones of all shapes and sizes, extends for above two miles, and we imagine it would not be difficult to count a thousand of them. We found it easy to trace out the circles in nearly every instance in which we tried to do so; here and there, the stones that completed it were lost, but generally we found that one had been built into the hedge, or into the gable of a house, or had sunk into the ground until nearly imperceptible, or had left some fragments, to show where it had been. The circles were of varied sizes, some very small, in others so large as apparently to be half a mile in circumference, and although in most instances the props which supported the huge rock had crumbled under its weight, sufficient proofs of their former existence were left in nearly every case. Our leisure did not permit us to make a very minute scrutiny of this truly wonderful place, but our brief note of it may, and no doubt will, induce such an examination as it undoubtedly demands. We earnestly recommend it to the attention of Mr. Windele.

From Outerard our route lay to Clifden, a distance of twenty miles, along a road, “smooth as a bowling-green" all the way, into the very heart of Connamara. But over this road we cannot hasten, for it is full of interest; and here begin the wonders that will keep the mind and eye gratified and excited, during a tour that certainly cannot find its parallel in the United Kingdom; not alone in its amount of natural beauties, or in scenery that for wild grandeur surpasses the imagination; the country is almost entirely one vast collection of raw material, languishing for the aid of man to develop its wealth, and render it available for the service of humankind.*

Gillegannan, chief of the horse; O'Colgan, his standard-bearer; Mac Kinnon and O'Mulavill, his brehons, or judges; the O'Duvans, his attendants on ordinary visitings; Mac Gille-Kelly, his ollave in genealogy and poetry; Mac Beolain, his keeper of the black bell of St. Patrick; O'Donnell, his master of revels; O'Kicherain and O'Conlachtna, the keepers of his bees; O'Murgaile, his chief steward, or collector of his

revenues.

"It was impossible to cast the eye over the vast inclined plains of bog-land, skirted by fine water levels, which seemed to invite draining, without feeling a conviction of the immense capabilities of this part of Ireland; and seeing, in prospective, these vast tracts bearing abundant produce-and the chains of lochs carrying that produce-on the one side, to Loch Corrib and Galway bay; and, on the other, to Birterbuy bay, or one of the other bays which lie to the westward. Some improvements are at present in progress by a gentleman who holds land under Mr. St. George, one of the proprietors of Connemara: but I believe there are certain obstacles in the way of success. question whether much ever will, or can be done, in cultivating the waste reclaimable lands of Ireland, by the proprietors themselves. Capital and enterprise are alike wanting. This, however, it is-the cultivation of the reclaimable wastes, that can alone provide permanent employment for the people, and effect a real change in their condition. To cultivate lands, where the produce cannot be taken cheap to market, would, of course, be the act of an insane person; but if government were to provide, in the first place, for the transmission of produce, by the construction of roads wherever wanted, and of canals, or river navigation, wherever practicable, (by which employment would be found for the people, and poverty and idleness, the great feeders of agitation, in part removed,) we are entitled to believe that capital would flow in the direction where it would be wanted, and where a certain return would await its employment."— Inglis' Tour in Ireland.

way where the invader could never enter. Their habits and customs are comparatively as unchanged by time as their mountains, lakes, and Old Ocean—the natural barriers by which their "Kingdom" is encompassed. Much of the primitive state of Connamara even now endures; although it is no longer regarded as the "Ultima Thule" of barbarism. The name signifies "the bays of the sea." Its western boundary is the Atlantic. Its rugged coast is indented with harbours. It seems as if cut off from intercourse with the world by its lakes, and mountains, on the north, south, and east; and it appears as if still left to the sole government of " untamed nature.”

"The Kingdom of Connamara," for so was this terra incognita styled before it contained other than bridle-roads, when it was considered an inhospitable desert; a refugium for malefactors, where" the king's writ could not run;" and where, it was presumed, no rational being would dare to venture, -this still wild, but now civilised and frequented, district, is supposed to extend from Galway town to Killery harbour, bounded on the east by the great lakes, Mask and Corrib, and on the west by the Atlantic; the major part of it being a broad promontory stretching out into the ocean between the two great bays. Some forty or fifty years ago it was almost unknown; the British law was as inoperative there as in the centre of New Holland; there was scarcely a road over which a wheeled carriage could pass; nothing resembling an inn was to be found; the owners of its soil reigned almost as supreme as the petty despots of Swabia; and the people, although brave and hospitable, were as rude and neglected as the bare rocks among which they lived to force a meagre sustenance from the sterile soil. Of late years, however, this state of things has been altogether changed: nature has been subdued; nearly every portion of the district has been rendered accessible, and its vast treasures have been brought within reach, not alone of the legislator and the philanthropist, but of the antiquary, the sportsman, the artist, and the naturalist. In fact, now-a-days, few parts of the Queen's dominions are better known; for its numerous advantages have attracted "mobs of tourists," and by many of them its peculiarities have been communicated to the world. And amply will it repay the visitor, whatever may be the object of his visit—whether health, amusement, or information.

Let us pause awhile, before we enter Connamara; and take some note of the peasant women of this wild and primitive district. Soon after he approaches Tuam-indeed, to some extent, immediately upon leaving the Province of Leinster-the tourist will have learned that he is approaching the "far west" by the red woollen draperies which show so conspicuously, and with so picturesque an effect, upon the bright green slopes of the

surrounding hills, or among the depths of the still greener valleys. This woollen is made in the cabins by the hands of the fair owners, and dyed by them from logwood; literally, according to the old song,

Its weight produces a massive character of drapery; the form, although not left altogether as "free as nature made it," is unrestrained by superabundant clothing; good nursing gives the women good shapes; there are seldom any" angles" about them; the custom of carrying burthens upon their heads makes them remarkably erect-to quote from another old song,

"As tall and straight as a poplar tree;"

and they are usually as lithsome and free of limb as the young antelope of the desert. Mr. Harvey has supplied us with a series of sketches of these mountain maidens; we have his assurance that each and all of them are "taken from the life;" and we, who have seen originals quite as graceful, can well believe him; although we shall find it difficult to persuade our readers that the pictures

owe absolutely nothing to the

painter's fancy.

We shall sketch a few of them, at random, as they occurred to him or to us. One we call to mind whom we encountered, descending a hill adjacent to Delphi. The outline of her features was as purely Greek, as if she had been born and "reared "

"Where burning Sappho loved and sang."

She followed us down the hill, bearing upon one arm the roll of worsted stuff, she was conveying to some neighbouring dyer; and leading a tethered kid-probably an offering in exchange for logwood. Her hair was

banded over her brow, and confined by a gay-coloured kerchief, which passed

over her head under the chin, and back, so as to fasten, on the top of the head, beneath the hood of her cloak; her nose was well formed and straight -quite straight-and her brow was finely arched; the chin, a feature so seldom seen in perfection, was exquisitely modelled; and as she only knew a few words of English, her gestures, expressive of her wants and wishes, were full of eloquence. She was particularly anxious we should purchase the kid, and thus enable her to make a better bargain with the dyer; she assured us, in broken English, "it was good for eat-nice little goat for eat, or pet "—and then she patted its shaggy ears, and the young thing looked with so much affection in its large eyes towards her, that we could not have killed it had we been half starved.

Goats trot about

with the peasantry very frequently, and are in admirable keeping with the wild beauty of the landscape. You hear their bleat from inaccessible mountains, and you meet them with the women by the well sides, and the running waters*. A sudden turn in one of the hill roads brought us, one sultry morning, to

where two young woman had been filling their large brown water pitchers; one stood with her large eyes, whose lashes swept her cheeks,

bent on the ground, the pitcher resting on her hip, and her cloak and apron, even her short woollen petticoat, falling into graceful draperies around her; her

* Of all animals the goat seems the most valuable to the mountain peasant. Where there are no young trees to be injured, they may browse at large on the mountain brakes, without expense; and Martin Doyle says, that if housed they can be supported on whins, the refuse of cabbage, the peelings of potatoes, and such worthless food; to those whose poverty cannot afford a cow, the goat is a real treasure, when yielding milk, which she will for several months, at the average of two quarts per day. Goats' cheese is wholesome, and the hair makes excellent linsey; it is grievous, when the value of this little animal is properly understood, to see a female kid sold for a shilling or tenpence-a not uncommon price.