142 BEATING THE SPRINGS AND THE WOOD. 



now." And she held out her hand to me with 

 a sweet unconscious frankness. 



" Good-bye ! I trust we may come across 

 each other again. Perhaps you would tell me 

 your name ? " 



She smiled for a second, and then, with an 

 expression full of fun, glanced from me to one 

 of her boxes lying outside the great deck 

 pyramid of luggage. 



I understood her at once. We parted, and 

 I carefully wrote down " Miss Wentworth, 

 Mountj oy Square, Dublin," the name and ad- 

 dress inscribed on the trunk. 



Late the next night I arrived at the Castle- 

 town Arms, having performed the last twenty 

 miles of the journey on a stage coach. My 

 first impressions of Castletown were similar to 

 those to which Johnson gave such emphatic 

 utterance when Boswell told him " Sir, we are 

 now in Scotland !" In the morning I found 

 it impossible to procure a cold bath ; but, in- 

 structed by a garrulous waiter, I found my 

 way to a river which promised capital angling. 

 On returning from a plunge and a swim, I went 

 into a shop to purchase a copy of the ' Castle- 



