372 WILD SPORTS OF THE WEST, 



pier, and with a deep sigh, I hastened to my chamber, 

 to make, for the last time, my toilet after a day of sylvan 

 exercise. 



Morning — the last morning has arrived, and all 

 is bustle and packing up. Travers, though a cold- 

 blooded Englishman who scarcely can tell a grouse from 

 a game-cock, seems to feel regret at leaving this hospitable 

 cabin — old John is sensibly affected — and AHce*s black 

 eyes are dim with weeping. For once she kissed me 

 without coquetry, and as she received my farewell 

 present, invoked the Lord to bless me with such 

 unaffected ardour as proved that her fervent benison 

 came warmly from the heart. 



Over the parting with this rude but affectionate 

 family I shall hurry. My cousin accompanied me to 

 Westport, and we left the Lodge after an early dinner, 

 in full expectation of reaching that town for supper 

 though the distance is some ten or twelve leagues, and 

 by an intricate passage with very difficult and perplexing 

 tides. As if fortune wished to offer me a parting com- 

 pliment, the wind blew from the north-west, and there 

 was as much of it as we could well carry our full sails to. 

 We entered the Bull's Mouth at three-quarter tide, 

 and brought plenty of water over the sands, and in an 

 hour cleared the Sound, and rushing through the boiling 

 currents of Bearnaglee, found ourselves in Clew Bay. 

 The wind blew fresh and steadily, and at nine o'clock 

 we were moored along the quay of Westport. 



One incident occurred : at a rocky point which ran 

 from the Achil side into the Sound, and there narrowed 

 the channel considerably, we observed a human being 

 couched on a stone among the sea- weed. The deep 

 water passed within an oar's length of the spot, and as 



