NATURE AND SPORT IN BRITAIN 



perhaps, in adjacent Connemara. Leaving Clew Bay 

 and its hundred islands behind us, we drive in the 

 little governess-cart up a moorland road, no great way 

 above the Newport River, which, finding an outlet 

 from Lough Beltra, makes its short passage to the 

 Atlantic. A seven-mile trot, and Beltra, a beautiful 

 upland lake, set amid perfect solitude, lies shining 

 before us. Beyond the lake rises the mountain of 

 Croaghmoyle, behind us springs Mount Eagle, while 

 to the northward towers Nephin, one of the most 

 formidable of Irish mountains. From Nephin you 

 may stretch your gaze over the waters of Lough 

 Conn, and see before you in the far distance Killala 

 Bay, where the French landed in 1798. 



We make our way to one of the few dwellings on the 

 shores of Beltra. The lad we find here assures us with 

 true Irish readiness that he has the best boat on the 

 lough, and so we outspan, and put up the pony. 

 An inspection of the boat, which has apparently been 

 lying in the sun for weeks, makes us somewhat less 

 certain of our prospects. But the eager boy repeats 

 his warranty ; we shove the craft into the water, and 

 bestow ourselves and our fishing gear. Alas ! we are 

 not fairly afloat before we see from half a dozen seams 

 the water come pouring in. Desperate bailing enables 

 one of us to keep the craft afloat, while the other essays 

 a few casts ; but it is evident that our voyage is 

 doomed, and with what haste we can muster we push 

 across the lake for another cabin, where the right 

 boat — it is quite evident we have chanced upon the 

 wrong one — is to be found. During this hurried ex- 

 cursion we have taken three decent brown trout. 



Having changed boats and dismissed our late rower — 

 now too downcast to say even a parting word for his 

 once incomparable craft — with the solace of a badly 



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