.

The next morning, bright and early, we left for Coleraine, a great
Presbyterian stronghold in what is called by the Roman Catholics the
'black north.' If we liked it, and saw anything of Kitty's descendants,
or any nice pitchers to break, or any reason for breaking them, we
intended to stop; if not, then to push on to the walled town of Derry,--

'Where Foyle his swelling waters
Rolls northward to the main.'

We thought it Francesca's duty, as she was to be the wife of a Scottish
minister of the Established Church, to look up Presbyterianism in
Ireland whenever and wherever possible, with a view to discoursing
learnedly about it in her letters,--though, as she confesses
ingenuously, Ronald, in his, never so much as mentions Presbyterianism.
As for ourselves, we determined to observe all theological differences
between Protestants and Roman Catholics, but leave Presbyterianism to
gang its ain gait. We had devoted hours--yes, days--in Edinburgh to the
understanding of the subtle and technical barriers which separated the
Free Kirkers and the United Presbyterians; and the first thing they did,
after we had completely mastered the subject, was to unite. It is all
very well for Salemina, who condenses her information and stows it
away neatly; but we who have small storage room and inferior methods of
packing must be as economical as possible in amassing facts.

If we had been touring properly, of course we should have been going
to the Giant's Causeway and the swinging Bridge at Carrick-a-rede; but
propriety is the last thing we aim at in our itineraries. We were within
worshipping distance of two rather important shrines in our literary
pilgrimage; for we had met a very knowledgeable traveller at the Sorley
Boy, and after a little chat with him had planned a day of surprises for
the academic Miss Peabody. We proposed to halt at Port Stewart, lunch at
Coleraine, sleep at Limavady; and meantime Salemina was to read all the
books at her command, and guess, we hoped vainly, the why and wherefore
of these stops.

On the appointed day, the lady in question drove in state on a car with
Benella, but Francesca and I hired a couple of very wheezy bicycles for
the journey. We had a thrilling start; for it chanced to be a fair day
in Ballycastle, and we wheeled through a sea of squealing, bolting
pigs, stupid sheep, and unruly cows, all pursued on every side by their
drivers. To alight from a bicycle in such a whirl