greatly in size as well as in configuration, exhibiting every number of sides from 3 to 9, and having a diameter varying from 15 to 26 inches. The great majority, however, have 5, 6, or 7 sides; a few have 4 and 8; and it is said that only three are found with 9 sides, and only one with 3. It is hardly necessary to state that the individual columns are all divided into separate portions and united together by socketed joinings, a concavity in one corresponding to a convexity in the other. These joinings, though perfectly distinct and visible, are so close and fine that they are impervious to water, and do not allow the different pieces to be separated, except by great force. The length of the distinct pieces or joints is very various, ranging from 4 inches to 4 feet. One of the pillars of the Causeway is said to have 38 joints. There is no fixed rule as to the existence of either the convexity or the concavity in the individual pieces, some having two convex ends, some two concave ends, and some one convex and one concave. In no case is the concavity or convexity great, the vertical extent of either seldom being more than an inch, generally less. There is also much variety as to the width of these concavities or convexities, the outer edge of them sometimes coming quite to the outer faces of the columns, sometimes keeping considerably within these.

Whatever be the configuration of the columns they are almost as closely joined together laterally,

as the individual joints are. The junction is, in fact, purely linear, no open space whatever being found, so that they are as perfectly water-tight in their lateral as in their vertical union.

As may be gathered from what has been already stated respecting the height of the different piers, the general surface of the whole Causeway is extremely irregular, only a very small portion of it being flat, like a mosaic pavement.

Although not obvious to an ordinary observer, it would appear from Mr. Bryce's account, that the columns constituting the three portions of Causeway all lean inwards towards one another, that is, towards a central point; a circumstance accounted for by Mr. Bryce, on the supposition that they all stand "upon a concave depression in the upper surface of the ochre bed, the pillars being at right angles to the concave surface." We are also informed by Mr. Bryce, that he has been enabled to trace some of the columns to their base, and found them resting on the bed of ochre. This might be expected from the fact, that the height of these columns measured in the great cliff is only from 40 to 45 feet, while we have seen that some of them in the Causeway rise from 30 to 40 feet above the sea-beach.

A distinguishing feature in the geology of all this district, is the frequency of dykes or huge veins of basalt, cutting the other strata across at a large angle. Two of these are seen to cut the prisms of

the Causeway across, and are, in fact, the means of dividing them into the three ranges or piers of which it is composed. Over a large space of the Causeway the upper part of the dykes have been broken off, so that the piers look as if they were separated rather by hollows than by prominences.

An excellent and very characteristic representation of the causeway, as seen from its shoreward extremity, the spectator looking seaward or to the north, is given in the Frontispiece to this Volume.

After regarding the Causeway in the humble, mechanical fashion we have just been doing, it is not easy at once to recover and realize the feelings with which it was contemplated, when we first landed on it from our boat, and saw all the pure natural yet artificial-looking wonders, spread out in one view before our eyes and beneath our feet. It is, however, impossible for any one who has seen it ever to forget, I think, how strange, how lively and how profound his feelings were when he first set foot upon it the whole mind (in my own case at least) being crowded with emotions differing, if not in their nature, certainly in their combination, from any previously derived from the influence of scenery, however beautiful or picturesque, however grand or even sublime.

I shall not attempt to analyse the precise nature of the complex mental state experienced, nor to trace its various constituents to their sources; but I think the great elemental feeling was WONDER-wonder at

the mere outward and material objects cognizable by the senses-wonder, tenfold wonder at the various and manifold conceptions and imaginations springing up instantaneously in the inner mind, like magical creations, around this one primary and central emotion. What is this? How came it here? Whence did it come? How was it When was it formed? Of what was it

formed? formed? What was this globe of ours at the time it was formed? What before? What since? Was it a mere mass of inorganic matter, with its elements in repose?—with its elements in strife? Or was it, as now, the field and theatre of beautiful life? Of life unconscious? Of life self-conscious? Of both? And-most awful and most bewildering thought of all--when-when was this? How long ago? Was it at the distance of inconceivable myriads of ages before its present rational lord was placed upon its surface, to contemplate it, to investigate it, to enjoy it?

These are, I think, some of the elemental notions, which together made up the great mysterious wonder with which the mind was filled. In my wordy attempt to specify them, I hope I have not conveyed the idea to others that I am wilfully indulging in exaggeration, if not in sheer extravagance; much less that much less that my feelings or emotions, whatever may have been their nature, extended beyond the sober amount of those commonly experienced by men who are lovers of nature,

when they chance to be placed amid scenes highly impressive. It is certainly a simple matter of fact, that, on this occasion, I was more deeply impressed by what I saw, and by what the scene suggested, than I had ever previously been by mere scenery;always excepting one entrancing sight on the Riffelberg, when Monte Rosa and the Matterhorn, with all their sublimity, were seen to hold scarcely more than their equal part in that skiey circle of Alps of which they form two of the snowy links. Of course, I here compare only the degree of the impressiveness; the nature of the impression being totally different in the two cases. But dismissing these egotistical details, I will conclude by citing, as some excuse for my own, the sentiments of the sober and matter-of-fact geologist, to whom I own myself so much indebted for the scientific part of the account I have given of these extraordinary scenes. Mr. Bryce thus terminates his geological description of the Causeway: "The mole of the Grand Causeway is indeed a most wonderful object to contemplate; but feelings sublimer far are awakened when we gaze upon the stupendous mural precipices, with their mighty arched colonnades, whose spans are measured by miles; and ponder over the mysterious workings of those great forces of nature, now dormant here, which brought all these wonders into being."

The Causeway Hotel is an excellent house of