poesy by such a scene, and there is an hexagonal throne which Scott selected for his wit to heighten the colouring of our fancy. The boatmen styled it Clachanna-Beirdh, the “Minstrel's Seat." The platform leads along the south-eastern cliff to the Clamshell or Escallop Cave, in which the columns have been forced into regular curves like the ribs of a ship, many 30 feet long and 16 broad; the depth is 130 feet, and it is a double cavern, inclining towards two planes. An islet cone of columns piled in ledges lies off the causeway.

The Buachaille, pronounced Boghille; Bro-sha-la (Erse), the "Shepherd's Rock."

These shafts are the most regular, about 30 feet high, the perpendicular lying on others curved or horizontal. The summit of the rock, rising to 144 feet, is ascended by steps near the Clamshell Cave. At the south-western angle opens the Boat Cave-a very symmetrical cavern, very finely opening on the direct face of the cliff: it is 150 feet deep and 12 broad, and 15 feet from high-water mark. It is, however, a very mine-like excavation, being scooped in the lower strata under the basalt; but the deepest shadows are finely thrown along by the overhanging columns, and it is here that the triple geology of Staffa is best displayed.

In a cove of the west cliff there is the Uaimh-naScarva, the "Shag Cave," 48 feet broad, 50 high, and 220 deep; the highest point of the entablature rising 84 feet. The front is guarded by huge amygdaloid blocks lying in the water, and there is a recessed range of columns like a geometric ceiling.

There is the Cannon Cave, a round hole 4 feet in

diameter and 15 in depth; the Atlantic booming loudly as it rolls in during a westerly gale. There are four or five smaller clefts, and zeolites and spar are imbedded in the basalt.

From the summit of the south-western mound the prospects are rich and varied, and its botany is worth a ramble over its turf; thrift and other floral plants springing around, and lichens gemming the rocks; on the shore lie Alaria esculenta, bladderlocks, the stems of which are washed and eaten; Laminaria, Phyllitis, Desseria, Iridea, and Porphyra; and Medusa and very gay anemones, like the playthings of the Nereids, gem the green water. The stormy petrel lays its egg on the rock, but the "shy seal," that once "weltered in these wondrous domes," is scared from its home.

How creation at its dawn left these primitive cliffs and rocks, smooth or fissured on their face, we shall never know, but as we gaze delighted on these gorgeous elemental cuttings, we are feasting our intellect on that which is, in truth, but the wreck and spoliation of primitive nature.

And yonder lies another group in rich and glorious decay; they, however, are not the debris of nature, but the relics of man's elaborate art- the holy fanes of Icolmkill-I Coluim Cille (Erse)-I Cholum Cille (Gaelic)—Hy-Eye, Islet (Hjj or Ii in monkish Latin), the cell of Columba, St. Coluim or Malcolm.

And how finely they break and darken the western wave lying along on the south-eastern point of the consecrated islet.

IONA-ITHONA (ISLE OF WAVES-THON, WAVE).ISHONA (HAPPY ISLE-SHONE, HAPPY)-YNYSNAN-DRUIDHNEACH (ISLE OF DRUIDS).

The hackneyed rhapsody of Johnson is echoed around us, "We are now treading"-no, we will not inflict even with a hope that our readers, like Sir Joseph Banks, "clasp their hands together and remain for some time in an attitude of silent admiration." The boat is moored at Port St. Ronain, in front of Baile Mhor, "the Great Town;" a row of two dozen humble dwellings and a manse.

There is housing for 500 folk at a rental of 300l. per Gilleans are intrusive on the rude block pier with their agates, and serpentine, and shells. Blocks of

annum.

red granite are lying around rolled over from the Ross of Mull, and we tread on pure white sand and on almost precious pebbles, and shells, and quartz reduced to diamond-dust; and there around the blocks in the water anemones are floating in profusion visible twelve feet down through the pure green liquid crystal. There is a quaint and eccentric character in the scene and its motley assemblage; but we long for moonlight and solitude, or living things more in solemn unison with the sanctity of those holy relics which consecrate and illuminate this isle.

Is the barn there still in which, in former days, Johnson, and Boswell, and Sir Allan MacLean slumbered through the darkness on hay, with portmanteaus for their pillows, to rise with the lark and roam among the sacred fanes in the bright morning beam. Such a cubiculum would have been an inspiration during our midnight sojourn. The bed of St. Kevin in Wicklow were a farce to it. Yonder cot was the dwelling of Legh Richmond during his labours of instruction in 1820-3.

Ere we roam and moralize among the tombs, we may glance at the fabled mysteries of Iona. There are myths and early legends regarding Cacodemons and Cailleachs, and Carlins, which drew King Natholicus to seek Iona and consult them on his destiny. Even the archdemon himself haunted the islet in a mood of jealousy at the holy mission of Columba.

The legend of the chapel is as whimsical as that of St. Brelades, in Jersey; but there the secret agent was a fairy-here, the chief "that led th' embattled seraphim to war!" So, when Columba was erecting his holy

walls, each night the daily labour of the saint was thwarted -the piled stones were scattered on the ground. The saint was in a dilemma-invocations were of no avail the arch-fiend was too potent to be foiled; but after Columba had been in conference with angels on Cnoc na Amigeal (a mound in Iona still existing), a vision came down to him telling him how he was to inter, alive, some willing son of men.

Like Curtius, Oran offered himself as a propitiatory sacrifice, and the chapel that bears his name was soon completed. But, lo! there was a miracle in the grave; for, when Columba went a pilgrim to look on the tomb of his proselyte, the corpse was fresh and undecaying. Yet there seems to have been a spice of demoniac influence still over Columba ; for, even as he was soldering the coffin of Oran, his lips murmured very profane syllables of death and hell.

There is a record that Oransay was the first settlement of the saint on his emigration in dudgeon from Erin. Iona was, however, given to Columba, who was of royal blood, by Moilochus, King of the Picts, for his holy zeal in the preaching of the Saviour to the people ;* and so the eremite deserted his Lindisfarne and the more rich and fertile shore of Durham for this Atlantic solitude, and he landed about 565 in a wicker boat in a little bay two miles from Martyr-street, called to this day Port a Curragh, or Churaich, or Curachan, the "Haven of the Wicker Boat;" and we see a mound sixty feet

*The Picts of the North; the Southerns had been already converted by St. Ninian.