AND HOW I HAVE CAUGHT MY FISH 39 



There are men and women who have the attri- 

 butes of the lodestone in drawing to them, quite 

 unknown to themselves, the confidence of their 

 fellow creatures. Sympathy is writ large in every 

 feature, and their tongues must perforce give voice 

 to the charity that is ever welling up within them. 

 Some of us become children in their presence, and, 

 childlike, we rely more on our instincts than on 

 our judgment. The Irish are susceptibility itself 

 to sympathy, and their innermost thoughts may be 

 yours ; but let them once doubt you, and a snail 

 is not more ready to draw back than they. And 

 if their doubt be justified by your badly-disguised 

 ridicule of them or of their country, you may, in a 

 flash, find yourself consigned to the hottest corner 

 in realms unmentionable. 



I once had the misfortune to lay myself open to 

 the suspicion of attempting to ridicule an Ennis- 

 killen shopkeeper. I was staying there for a few 

 days' fishing in that neighbourhood, and, as I was 

 leaving for an outlandish part, I thought it well to 

 take with me a bottle of the best whiskey I could 

 get. So, on the evening prior to starting, I 

 entered a store and asked for it, and the reply I 

 got was : 



"What size bottle?" This, on consideration, 

 seems a simple question, yet I was for a moment 

 so nonplussed that I replied : 



" It's just a bottle I want." Then, said he : 



" The divil take ye, if you're not knowing the 



