Il8 MEMORIES OF GLENAUGH. 



committee, a deputation, what you will, waiting 

 on Paddy Byrne, the dark (blind) piper, in 

 order to arrange a meeting with him at the 

 Arvine cross in the evening. I observe that 

 besides the chapel there are two other buildings 

 in the hollow. One is the national school and 

 the teacher's dwelling ; the other belongs to the 

 care-taker of Arvine wood. A very pretty 

 woman comes to the schoolhouse-door, dressed 

 in a rather extreme style of rustic Irish coque- 

 try. She reminds me at once, for withal she 

 has a matronly air, of the giddy wife of John 

 Christie, whom you may remember in Scott's 

 'Fortunes of Nigel.' But there is no Lord 

 Dalgarno to arouse the jealousy of a husband 

 in this happy valley. One might stay here 

 and dream one's existence away in peace. 



Some demon of mischief inspires me to 

 stroll down and ask the pretty schoolmistress 

 I have fixed on her quality by guesswork for 

 a light for a cigar. She smiles charmingly as 

 she invites me inside to help myself to what I 

 require. I speak of the weather, of Father 

 O'Brien. She says, with a curtsey, that she 

 knows me through my uncle, and asks me to 



