230 WILD SPORTS OF THE WEST. 



waste of moss and shingle lay before us, rising towards 

 a cairn of stones which marks the apex of the mountain. 

 We pressed on with additional energy ; the termination 

 of our toil was in view ; in a few minutes we gained the 

 top, and a scene, glorious beyond imagination, burst 

 upon us at once, and repaid tenfold the labour we had 

 encountered to obtain it. 



We stood upon the very pinnacle of the ridge, two 

 thousand feet above the level of the sea ; Clew Bay, 

 that magnificent sheet of water, was extended at our 

 feet, studded with its countless islands : inland, the eye 

 ranged over a space of fifty miles ; and towns and 

 villages, beyond number, were sprinkled over a surface 

 covered with grass, and corn, and heath, in beautiful 

 alternation. The sun was shining gloriously, and the 

 variety of colouring presented by this expansive land- 

 scape was splendidly tinted by the vertical rays of light. 

 The yellow corn, the green pasturage, the russet heaths, 

 were traceable to an infinite distance, while smaller 

 objects were marked upon this natural panorama, and 

 churches, towns, and mansions occasionally relieved 

 the prospect. We turned from the interior to the west ; 

 there the dark waters of the Atlantic extended, till the 

 eye lost them in the horizon. Northward, lay the 

 Sligo islands ; and southward, the Connemara moun- 

 tains, with the noble islands of Turk and Boffin nearer 

 objects seemed almost beneath us ; Achil was below 

 Clare Island stretched at our feet while our own 

 cabin looked like a speck upon the canvas, distinguished 

 only by its spiral wreath of smoke from the hillocks 

 that encircled it. There was an indescribable loneliness 

 around, that gave powerful effect to all we saw. The 

 dreariness of the waste we occupied was grand and 



