The Belfast Field Club in Donegal. 229 



reproduced to illustrate this paper (Plate 5). A delicious breeze 

 sent our substantial fishing boat spinning across Sheephaven 

 and back to Downing's Pier, whence we skirted along the hills 

 and ascended Ganiamore, where we revelled in the astonishing 

 panorama spread before us. At last Mulroy's windings could 

 be understood, and we gazed with great interest at our route 

 of the forenoon and the morrow. Southward lay L,ough Salt 

 Mountain and the other Donegal giants, with Muckish leading 

 our gaze westward to the noble cliffs of Horn Head, highest 

 and grandest of the northern headlands, Tory Island, upon 

 which the gunboat Wasp was lost in 1884, lying like a dream 

 upon the horizon. 



A rough scramble brought us down to Mevagh Church with 

 its rude impressive cross ; returning homewards we visited 

 the inscribed stones in passing. Ice-worn and time-worn, 

 they rise from the turf, decorated with concentric circles and 

 patterns like the New Grange carvings, mute witnesses of a 

 bygone race and their art. 



Next morning we started for Belfast, and Donegal wept 

 over our departure all the way to Derry. We drove from 

 Rosapenna, across the sandhills (where some of our party had 

 been ransacking kitchen-middens before breakfast) ; past the 

 site of Rosapenna House, formerly the residence of L,ord 

 Boyne, now covered with blown sand, only the tops of the 

 garden walls remaining visible, eighteen houses in the 

 vicinity having suffered a similar fate. From Carrigart we 

 turned southward, driving along the western shores of Mulroy, 

 sometimes wild and bare, sometimes between woods carpeted 

 with Lastrea <zmula and other ferns — passing the spot where 

 Lord Iyeitrim was murdered in 1878, over Bunlin Bridge, where 

 the scenery is like a Canadian lake, and so into picturesque 

 Milford, where a short halt was made for lunch at Mrs. 

 Baxter's hospitable little hotel. Then across the rising 

 ground, past bogs and tarns and ice-scratched rocks, to Lough 

 Swilly, and along its western shore to Rathmullan, where 

 another pause gave time to inspect the ruins of the castle and 

 abbey. But the little steamer could not wait, and in dripping 

 rain we crossed the lough to Fahan, and soon reached Derry 

 once more. By the courtesy of Dean Smyly the cathedral 

 was specially opened for the Club, and after visiting the 

 historic walls the party assembled at the Northern Counties 



