282 The Irish Naturalist. 



50 ft. raised beach of the Geological Survey — a well-marked 

 ridge of gravel rising abruptly to a height of 30 to 40 feet from 

 the flat or gently-sloping plain that runs inland from the 

 existing beach. 



A little further eastward, behind Tullagh Bay, this terrace 

 is still better developed, and forms a very striking object. 

 There, as elsewhere on this wild coast, the present beach con- 

 sists of high terraces of pebbles and rounded stones, piled up 

 by winter gales in a steep slope to some twenty feet above 

 ordinary high water. Behind the beach at Tullagh Bay, the 

 ground drops slightly and then runs level in boggy or gravelly 

 fields to this grand old terrace, which rises at a slope of about 

 I to I to a height of thirty to forty feet. On the top of this 

 old beach the ground again dips slightly, like the present 

 beach, and continues almost level to where the hills rise, a 

 quarter of a mile from the sea. As seen in a small pit, this 

 terrace is composed of coarse stratified gravel, full of much 

 rounded stones, just like the existing beach. No shells were 

 to be found, but then shells are almost absent also on the 

 present beach, where they get smashed to pieces ; and the 

 coarse and open nature of the material is unsuitable for the 

 preservation of organic remains. 



I tramped across the broad sands of Tullagh Bay, where 

 the ocean waves boomed as they broke with rhythmical 

 monotony. The Clonmany River was in flood, but I forded it 

 waist deep, and climbed the rocky slope of Binnion, where 

 another magnificent view was obtained — a vast expanse of 

 ocean, faced by the great cliff's of Dunaff" and the white sands 

 of Tullagh, behind which rose the wild mountains of quartzite 

 and mica schist that culminate in Slieve Snaght (2019 feet). 

 A scramble down a precipitous gully, and a stiff climb round 

 the most rugged of sea-cliffs hung with Rose-root brought me 

 to PoUan Bay, where the sands stretched far into the grey sea- 

 mist. Evening was closing in apace, so I took to the road, 

 and six miles more brought me to Carndouagh, and to its 

 comfortable inn. 



Next morning a wild storm was raging, and sea and sky 

 and land were all shrouded in rain and spray. But as the 

 sun rose the clouds broke, and I took the morning mail car 

 for Malin Head. The day before, an American mail steamer 

 had arrived at Queenstown, and as we drove along it was 



