What a sublime natural scenery Ireland's northern coastline offers! But what can you convey by describing them? At best a feeble decoction of ideas. But be that as it may, I want to tell you as best I can, dear father, in particular of Dunkerry Cave.27
To the west of the port of Coon Cave and Dyke, a dark, steep rock contains a cave which is as deep as high, and accessible by water only. The entrance is in the shape of a pointed arch and is of a striking regularity. The inner depth of Dunkerry Cave is unfathomable, and its peculiar structure makes landing a barge dangerous or even prevents it. But here, too, nature is reconciling, because a green wreath of sea plants grows above the water surface along the hard rock. The crashing of the sea against this coast is especially stunning, as wave follows wave, thundering into the cave. Often during winter nights the roar is so intense that the people living in cottages, albeit at some distance from it, are scared out of their sleep. The entrance is six and twenty feet in breadth, and enclosed between two natural walls of dark basalt; instilling frissons and admiration. After you have landed,
Giant's Causeway
It rises up like wide bridge piers, black and solemn, and one would like to believe the people who tell of this miracle of nature. They say that once giants had begun to build this colossal causeway to Scotland, and were only prevented from continuing the great work by Ireland's heroes who drove them out. Between Port-na-Baw and Port-na-Gange you can see some naked rocks jutting out, called Stookings. A little to the west, near the coast, an isolated rock rises up: Sea Gall Isle, and there in the middle between Port-na-Gange and Port-Nosser, the giant path juts out into the sea. It consists of three pillars of stone embankments, 400 feet high, towering upon the bottom of a stacked cliff, and of polygonal columns of dark basalt, so tightly united that no more than a knife blade can be inserted; they surpass the most artful sculpture in regularity. Each pillar is a veritable masterpiece in itself, and, being separable from the adjacent columns, it is made up of different parts, whose ledges are so perfect that not even supreme human effort could have created them. I cannot but marvel at the magnificence of the eternal builder in these rocks. There, on the western side, between the lofty pillars
The stretch of land on the coast is rich in limestone and poor enough. The people, some of whom are very handsome, live in misery. In the abrupt cliffs overhanging the giant walkway, a strange substance is found for which, according to some naturalists, no technical name has been agreed on yet; it resembles burned out coals, and is spongy and light.
Lough Mourne!
Laugh Tomorrow!
On the road to Larne, I first see a desolate stretch of road, but then to the right the sublime lake of Lough Mourne! This body of water
The people explain the name Lough Mourne by way of a legend. Once upon a time, there was a great city in this place, where one evening an old beggar had come asking for shelter. After being pitilessly rejected, he cried out solemnly and earnestly: ‘Lough Mourne! laugh tomorrow!’ He himself immediately climbed onto one of the jutting out rocks. Now the ground started sinking more and more, eels were slipping out of the houses. Soon the city was sinking down into the abyss, and the waters were welling up above it, as can still be seen today. From now on, the legend says, the lake was called Lough Mourne, laugh tomorrow!