In Erin old there lived a race
Taller than Roman spears.'

Mr. Colquhoun is one of the best Gaelic scholars in Ireland, and Dr.
Gerald, though not his equal in knowledge of the language, has 'the full
of a sack of stories' in his head. According to the Book of Leinster, a
professional story-teller was required to know seven times fifty tales,
and I believe the doctor could easily pass this test. It is not easy to
make a good translation from Irish to English, for they tell us there
are no two Aryan languages more opposed to each other in spirit and
idiom. We have heard little of the marvellous old tongue until now,
but we are reading it a bit under the tutelage of these two inspiring
masters, and I fancy it has helped me as much in my understanding of
Ireland as my tedious and perplexing worriments over political problems.

After all, how can we know anything of a nation's present or future
without some attempt to revivify its past? Just as, without some slender
knowledge of its former culture, we must be for ever ignorant of its
inherited powers and aptitudes. The harp that once through Tara's halls
the soul of music shed, now indeed hangs mute on Tara's walls, but for
all that its echoes still reverberate in the listening ear.

When we sit together by the river brink on sunny days, or on the
greensward under the yews in our old garden, we are always telling
ancient Celtic romances, and planning, even acting, new ones.
Francesca's mind and mine are poorly furnished with facts of any sort;
but when the kind scholars in our immediate neighbourhood furnish
necessary information and inspiration, we promptly turn it into dramatic
form, and serve it up before their wondering and admiring gaze. It
is ever our habit to 'make believe' with the children; and just as
we played ballads in Scotland and plotted revels in the Glen at
Rowardennan, so we instinctively fall into the habit of thought and
speech that surrounds us here.

This delights our grave and reverend signiors, and they give themselves
up to our whimsicalities with the most whole-hearted zeal. It is days
since we have spoken of one another by those names which were given to
us in baptism. Francesca is Finola the Festive. Eveleen Colquhoun is
Ethnea. I am the harper, Pearla the Melodious. Miss Peabody is Sheela
the Skilful Scribe, who keeps for posterity a record of all our antics,
in the Speckled Book of Salemina. Dr. Gerald is Borba the Proud, the
Ard-r