and
he minds getting wet the more because he hates Irish whisky. He keeps a
little notebook, and he can hardly wait for dinner to be over, he is
so anxious to send a communication (probably signed 'Veritas') to the
London Times.

The multiplicity of rocks and the absence of trees are indeed the two
most striking features of the landscape; and yet Boate says, 'In
ancient times as long as the land was in full possession of the Irish
themselves, all Ireland was very full of woods on every side, as
evidently appeareth by the writings of Giraldus Cambrensis.' But this
was long ago,--

'Ere the emerald gem of the western world
Was set in the brow of a stranger.'

In the long wars with the English these forests were the favourite
refuge of the natives, and it was a common saying that the Irish could
never be tamed while the leaves were upon the trees. Then passages were
cut through the woods, and the policy of felling them, as a military
measure, was begun and carried forward on a gigantic scale in
Elizabeth's reign.

At one of the cabins along the road they were making great preparations,
which we understood from having seen the same thing in Lisdara. There
are wee villages and solitary cabins so far from chapel that the priests
establish 'stations' for confession. A certain house is selected, and
all the old, infirm, and feeble ones come there to confess and hear
Mass. The priest afterwards eats breakfast with the family; and there
is great pride in this function, and great rivalry in the humble
arrangements. Mrs. Odevaine often lends a linen cloth and flowers to
one of her neighbours, she tells us; to another a knife and fork, or a
silver teapot; and so on. This cabin was at the foot of a long hill, and
the driver gave me permission to walk; so Francesca and I slipped down,
I with a parcel which chanced to have in it some small purchases made
at the last hotel. We asked if we might help a bit, and give a little
teapot of Belleek ware and a linen doily trimmed with Irish lace. Both
the articles were trumpery bits of souvenirs, but the old dame was
inclined to think that the angels and saints had taken her in charge,
and nothing could exceed her gratitude. She offered us a potato from
the pot, a cup of tea or goat's milk, and a bunch of wildflowers from
a cracked cup; and this last we accepted as we departed in a shower of
blessings, the most interesting of them being, "May the Blessed Virgin
twine your brow