LETTER II. 23 



don't want to sing ; but don't forget to take an 

 Irishman ' along.' They may be a very disreput- 

 able lot politically I believe they are (I'd give 

 them Home Rule if I had one for a husband) 

 but as travelling companions they have no equal. 

 Our Irishman had discovered, whilst teaching his 

 compatriot, the bar-tender, how to make a Man- 

 hattan cocktail, that there were races about to 

 take place at Glen Falls that afternoon. In ten 

 minutes he had organized a party to attend them, 

 and I am bound to admit that he took at any 

 rate all the prettiest bonnets about the hotel with 

 him. That was a merry afternoon. Glen Falls 

 is a town of exceedingly pretty houses, peeping 

 out from very wooded streets, and most of its 

 ten thousand inhabitants were at the races that 

 day. The races themselves astonished me. In 

 every one of them there were ' ivhecls* No 

 riding, all driving ; and such driving ! Two 

 large, light wheels ran close against the horse's 

 quarters, and over a little board, supported by 

 the wheels, lay the horse's swish tail, on which 

 sat the jockey. At first I thought I was watch- 

 ing driving-races between tailed men ; later on I 

 discovered to whom the tails belonged. All that 

 afternoon the fun was fast and furious, Ireland 

 versus America being a very pretty match in the 

 matter of wit. Poor Mr. O'Brien! I really 



