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. 12, 1863.] over with such rapidity that old inhabitants of the parish remembered the porch becoming invisible in one night. For a time the enemy was kept at bay—but only for a time—whereupon the parishioners took the building bodily down and erected it at a considerable distance, where it was thought to be safe. The old church lived only in tradition and the folklore of the fireside, until, by the shifting of the sand after a tremendous storm, it again stood forth, though only partially, to the light of day; but, on a systematic clearance being made around, it was found to be nearly as perfect as when it was built to commemorate the bishop-saint’s resting-place. It is of very rude workmanship, the blocks of masonry being apparently selected and placed just as they came to hand; while instead of lime the builder had used chinaclay, which was a plentiful material in that district, and was probably the only substitute on which he could lay his hands. Should the sceptic be curious to know how the appearance of the church corresponds with the legend, as to its age, the antiquary will point to the extreme rudeness and primitiveness of the masonry, the small size of the building (an invariable feature of the early churches), the peculiarity of the windows, and the use of certain ornamentation which was then common and is still visible in churches in Ireland reputed to be of the same date, viz., from the fifth to the seventh century. The sand is fast closing round again, but Perranzabuloe is still worth a visit from those who love to see Nature in her dreary garb, as well as in her beauty and grandeur. The same phenomena may be observed further west, in the neighbourhood of Hayle, where a very fine old church on the bank of the estuary seems as though the “towans” were pressing it day by day more closely in their deadly embrace. Again, about two miles from Hayle, on St. Gwithian’s river, the sand is even more desolating, and threatens to swallow up the whole village, church and all. A very singular chemico-geological change may be seen here, in which the sand is becoming converted into stone sufficiently hard for building purposes. If we cross the channel to the Welsh coast, we shall find the same phenomena at work. About ten miles from Swansea, in that most picturesque and out-of-the-way spot, the promontory of Gower, there is a sandy estuary or pill overlooked by the tower of Pennard Castle, which, were it not for its commanding position, I take it, would long before this have become invisible. Here we have little but tradition to guide us, and the nomenclature of the neighbourhood, which is generally, however, a very sure indication of past events, customs, or appearances.

Tradition speaks of a large town that was buried in this spot, and nomenclature points to a farm, at a considerable distance off, which is called Norton or North Town, while a hamlet in the other direction is named Southgate. Another, midway between the two, is the great highway—all names unmistakably denoting some extension of fortifications or roads where now is only a barren surface of sand, inhabited by countless numbers of rabbits. Although we may dismiss the legend that the sand was all blown over in one night from the coast of Ireland, it would be a point of sufficient interest to see what excavations might bring to light.

Let us now cross the Irish Channel to the Wexford coast; where, in the neighbourhood of Duncannon and Hook Point, we shall find the ruined church of Bannow, sole memorial of a prosperous town, which we know to have existed not such a very long time ago—for we read that in the reign of Charles II., no less than ten streets are mentioned in the Act of Settlement. Not only the town, but the whole bay appears to have suffered considerable damages, for according to a survey made in 1657, an island called Slade, was marked as being opposite the harbour, and separated by a narrow channel; whereas now there is no island and no channel. Here the covering up was undoubtedly a work of time, as there is no mention made historically of any sudden submergence, and moreover the phenomenon may be seen in operation at the present day.

The west coast of Donegal is very liable to sand invasions, which have proved rather a costly affair to the nation. Between Dunglow and Gweedore is an extensive series of dunes, in the very heart of which the Duke of Rutland, when Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, erected a fort that was intended to form a garrison and emporium of provisions for that out-of-the-way district, which in those days was as wild and unknown as the King of Dahomey’s territory is now. Thirty thousand pounds were expended in this scheme, and it may be said to have been literally expended on sand; for no sooner was the fort built than it became gradually covered over, and as it was found that such an establishment (like many a public undertaking) was perfectly unnecessary, it soon became deserted and a ruin—for in Ireland, everything that is not looked after, is considered by the peasants as left for their peculiar good, and is used accordingly. Of Rutland Fort very little is now left of even the ruins.

If we coast round to the north,—and few coasts are more worthy of a visit from those who love the wild and unfrequented,—we shall find near Dunfanaghy, a very large and smooth expanse of sand, known as Rosapenna. To look at it, one would think that it had been undisturbed for centuries by the foot of man; and yet, underneath, lies the skeleton of one of the finest mansions in the kingdom. It was built by Lord Boyne within the last hundred years; and, as we are told, was replete with every comfort and refinement of the day. Nothing, however, could stop the march of the subtle destroyer, and Lord Boyne’s house lies snugly imbedded until the crack of doom, unless some sudden change in the direction of the sand current may, perchance, bring it again to light, like Perranzabuloe. The question naturally occurs, as to the possibility or impossibility of controlling or altering the directions of the sand, when it threatens danger to property. We have seen that a stream of running water was considered a specific, but then running water is not always to be had conveniently. Fortunately, it has been noticed that the casual growth of the bent grass,