XXXVI 



IRISH born as I am, there is something in the breath 

 of Ireland that makes my heart rise. The sound of the 

 soft Irish voices is music to my ear. I forgive the slipshod 

 ways because of the general delightfulness. Distressful 

 country as it is more than ever, now, alas! the battle- 

 ground of factionsfrom the moment of our landing 

 joyfully on its shores, to the sad hour of parting, our 

 too rare visits to Ireland have been punctuated by kindly 

 and innocent laughter. Impossible, beloved people ! They 

 break the heart of the politician and of the reformer/ but 

 how enchanting they are to just a foolish person such as I 

 am, who likes to go and live among them and enjoy them 

 without political bias / who can laugh at and with them, 

 and love them as they are ! 



Our last journey to Ireland began in mirth, and ended in 

 the agonies of a bad passage which accentuated all our 

 regrets. The traject thither had been accomplished with 

 no such drawbacks. 



The Master of the Villino is remarkably indifferent to 

 anything the sea can do/ but I like to have a comfortable 

 cabin to myself, and a large port-hole for the sea-wind to 

 blow through. I cannot say I'm fond of feeling like the 

 German lover : 



Himmel-hoch jauchzend, zu Tode betriibt 



between wave and hollow. But it is the woes of other 

 people that really undo me. On this particular passage 

 a bright fresh day it was, with what's called, I suppose, 

 " a choppy sea " I was quite^ready to defy the elements, 



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