186 Irish Volcanoes. 



The old road formerly entered the Cushendun valley above 

 the little village., and crossed a narrow ravine by a fine viaduct. 

 A pleasing drive brings us to Cushendall, a curious and charac- . 

 teristic Irish country town, with many picturesque houses, and, 

 altogether, in very good condition. High cliffs, almost perpen- 

 dicular, rise immediately at the back of the houses of the town, 

 and they are richly covered with vegetation. Just beyond the 

 houses, at a turn of the road, there are caverns and arches in 

 the sandstone rock of these cliffs, and habitations have been 

 scooped out of the hill side. It is curious to see curling wreaths 

 of smoke gently emerging from some unseen chimney, per- 

 forated through the hill, and one fancies that the real volcano 

 itself has been found, from which all the lava has been poured 

 out. Nothing can be less near the truth. These smoking 

 sandstones are quite unaffected by anything that has happened 

 to produce the phenomena of the neighbourhood. 



All round the little bay, beyond Cushendall, as far as the 

 river and pretty glen on its south side, the rocks are of this 

 same sandstone, and from its brick-red colour the bay re- 

 ceives its name, Red Bay. Beyond the glen the old charac- 

 ter of scenery recurs, thick beds of black basaltic rock above, 

 and brilliant white limestone, hardened chalk, below. The 

 road from this point winds round at the bottom of the cliff, 

 passing under and close to Lady Londonderry's picturesque 

 residence. From its castellated style, this building harmonizes 

 well enough with the scenery. 



From Grlenariff, round by Carnlough and Glenarm to Larne, 

 the scenery continues of the same general character. Lofty 

 cliffs, partly of basalt, partly of chalk, approach the sea, but 

 the road is everywhere close to the coast, the cliff having often 

 been cut away to make room for it. At frequent intervals, 

 there are breaks admitting of a view of pretty glens running 

 up into the country. Out towards the sea the high land of 

 Scotland in the distance and the little rocky islands called the 

 Maidens, with their two lighthouses, are always in sight, and the 

 projecting tongue of land forming the northern boundary of 

 Belfast Lough almost seems as if it belonged to some island 

 at a distance from the mainland. 



But where, after all, the reader may ask, are the Irish 

 volcanoes ? What is the evidence that all these contrasts of 

 black and white, these numerous varieties of curious mineral 

 of which little collections are thrust into the hand of every 

 tourist, by all the men, women, and children of the country, 

 mean anything so serious as earthquakes, craters, and melted 

 rock ? This very natural and reasonable question let us now 

 endeavour to reply to. 



Certainly there is no record of volcanic action even in the 



