1 92 By Stream and Sea. 



will be in slight measure avenged. About the hotel at the 

 Causeway you are worried by men, boys, and women, to 

 purchase boxes of what they term " specimens of mineral 

 odds and ends," some of which are very ingeniously 

 manufactured. 



The guides boatmen at whose charges everybody 

 grumbles, but who, having a monopoly, are indispensable 

 are steeped to the lips with giant lore, and they talk as if 

 they believed the pretty stories which they dispense wholesale 

 and retail. You enter a long cave, into which the sea 

 gallops for a hundred yards or more, and in the gloom, 

 surrounded by slime, and with the hollow moan of the 

 waves stealing up the roof, the guide runs off the reel a yarn 

 touching a giant hermit, a meek monster, who took a fancy 

 to pray and fast in a sea-cave, solemnly vowing not to touch 

 food brought by mortal hand. These eccentric suicidal 

 intentions were baffled by a seal, who was evidently cut out 

 for the legal profession. The beast, it is alleged, swam into 

 the cave with food, and the giant, persuaded by a touch of 

 the flipper that the clause as to mortal hands remained 

 inviolate, fell to upon the rations thus providently sealed 

 and delivered, and lived to a green old age. 



Half-way up the highest cliff you will see a grand collec- 

 tion of pillars of various lengths, and the name is not inapt 

 the Giant's Organ. Some distance to the west there 

 stands a figure marvellously resembling a crooked old 

 woman. This is the Giant's granny, who for some dire 

 offence was turned into stone without hope of remedy, 

 The magnificent half-circles of columns, which are the next 

 great sight to Pleaskin, are the Giant's Amphitheatre, where 

 Fin MacCoul would feast a select party of the sons of Anak 

 of that period, grouping them around him on basaltic seats 

 and rocky benches, which remain to this day. The semi- 



