the Dublin torchlight procession, after
having escaped unhurt from the blazing Nationalists who swarm in the
Royal Victoria Hotel, Cork, having walked down the Limerick entrance
to the balmy Tipperary, a little shooting, more or less, is unworthy a
moment's consideration. Besides which, my perpetual journeying and
interviewing and scribbling have made me so thin that Captain
Moonlight himself would be bound to miss. However, it is well to be
prepared for the worst, so--_Pax vobiscum_, and away to County Clare.

Tralee (Co. Kerry), April 20th.

No. 12.--ENGLISH IGNORANCE AND IRISH PERVERSITY.

A most enchanting place when you have time to look at it. My flying
visit of ten days ago gave the city no chance. Let me redeem this
error, so far as possible. There are two, if not three Limericks in
one, a shamrock tripartition, a trinity in unity,--English-town,
Irish-town, and New Town Perry. New Limerick is a well-built city,
which will compare favourably with anything reasonable anywhere. Much
of it resembles the architecture of Bedford Square, London. The streets
are broad and rectangular, the shops handsome and well furnished. But
it is the natural features of the vicinity which "knock" the
susceptible Saxon. The Shannon, the classic Shannon, sweeps grandly
through the town, winding romantically under the five great bridges,
washing the walls of the stupendous Castle erected by King John, the
only British sovereign who ever visited Limerick--serpentining through
meadows backed by mountains robed in purple haze, reflecting in its
broad mirror many a romantic and historic ruin, its banks dotted with
salmon-fishers pulling out great fish and knocking them on the head,
its promenades abounding with the handsomest women in the world. For
the Limerick ladies are said to be the most beautiful in Ireland, and
competent English judges--I know nothing of such matters--assure me
that the boast is justified. Get to Cruise's Royal Hotel, which for a
hundred years has looked over the Shannon, take root in its airy, roomy
precincts, pleasant, clean, and sweet, with white-haired servitors like
noble earls in disguise to bring your ham and eggs, Limerick ham, mind
you, which at this moment fetches 114s. per cwt. in London; and with
the awful cliffs of Kilkee within easy distance, where the angry
Atlantic Ocean, dashing with gigantic force against the rock-bound
coast, sends spray two or three miles inland, the falls of Castleconn