As we wound along the serpentine road nearing the castle, the hills
seemed to get wilder and more solemn. No trace of human habitations, no
sound of human life, treeless, bare, silent mountains, wastes of black
bog, rocks rising up till their solemn heads brushed the sky, - Irish
giants in ragged cloaks of heather.
At last we came in sight of Loughveigh lying cradled among the rocks,
and got a glimpse of the white tower of Glenveigh Castle. There is a
small skirting of wood near the castle where the silver barked birch
prevails from which the glen takes its name, interspersed with holly
trees, which grow here in profusion, and some dark yews, prim and
stately, drawn up like sentinels to guard the demesne.
No place could be imagined more utterly alone than Glenveigh Castle. The
utter silence which Mr. Adair has created seems to wrap the place in an
invisible cloak of awfulness that can be felt. Except a speculative rook
or a solitary crane sailing solemnly toward the mountain top, I saw no
sign of life in all the glen. Owing to the windings of the road it
seemed quite a while after we sighted the top of the tower before we
entered the avenue which sweeps round the edge of the lake shore, and
finally brought us to the castle.
