198 TRANSACTIONS—PERTHSHIRE SOCIETY OF NATURAL SCIENCE. 
courteous, after the fashion of the Irish peasant, explained the general 
discomfort of his abode by remarking, “You see, miss, the cattle 
have to come in at night! ” Here, at the foot of Ben Lettery, the 
people, busy with their small hay crop, evidently wondered at our 
folly in climbing a hill on such a hot day, when we might remain 
comfortably at the bottom. They directed us, however, to leave the 
road and follow a mountain stream, and this proved a delightful 
route. Our stream pursued a varied and adventurous course; 
leaping down from the heights above in a succession of sparkling 
waterfalls; passing through deep gorges and lying dark and silent 
beneath high overhanging cliffs; lingering in sunny pools, as though 
unwilling to leave those breezy moorlands for the dull monotony of 
the bogs below. Beautiful ferns grew all along its banks, and we 
were specially attracted by the abundance of Hart’s Tongue and of 
the Royal Fern, which grows here, as all over the west of Ireland, in 
most luxuriant profusion. In a clump of moss overhanging the 
stream was found the tiny Alpine Meadow-Rue, but, though we had 
been told that the Mountain Sorrel grew here, we searched for it in 
vain in the rocky sides of the ravine. After a while we left the 
friendly guidance of the stream, and started across the boggy ground. 
Here we noticed the bog-plants; the Bog Asphodel, with its bright 
yellow flowers; the yellowish tongue-shaped leaves of the Butterwort; 
the Sundew, its small white flower on its slender upright stem, and 
the red dew-tipped hairs on its leaves glistening and attractive 
to unwary insects; most abundant of all, A?tagallts te?tella, the Bog 
Pimpernel, whose delicate blossoms formed a carpet over which it 
seemed sacrilege to tread. We forgot that we were ankle-deep in 
water and soaking moss as we stooped to examine its lovely cup¬ 
shaped flowers, with their rosy transparent petals, and its graceful 
sprays of tiny leaves. 
Presently we reached firmer ground, and here on the heathery 
slope we would fain have lingered. It was so pleasant in the warm 
sunshine to rest on the springy heather, to watch the progress of the 
cloud-shadows over the hills, to listen to the distant music of the 
stream, the lively chirp of the grasshopper, the drowsy hum of the 
wild bee. We were in the very heart of the mountains, and the 
Twelve Pins, like solemn sentinels, shut away every trace of the outer 
world. The heather was all about us, Mrica cinerea^ in such beauty 
as we had rarely seen it, and among the purple were lovely patches 
of purest white; Callmia, with its many tufts of white easily distin¬ 
guished by the lighter green of the leaves; and the beautiful Dabeocia, 
or St. Dabeoc s Heath, not to be found in Britain outside Conne¬ 
mara. ^ Its great crimson bells hung upon the slope beside us, and 
we noticed and admired the length and rich colour of its blossoms. 
