AN OCTOBEE ABEOAD 219 



before two spectators ! Certain it is that she yielded 

 the highwayman her hand, and, bidding him a gentle 

 good-night in Welsh, smilingly and blushingly left 

 the car. "Ah," said the villain, "these Welsh 

 girls are capital; I know them like a book, and have 

 had many a lark with them.'' 



At Holyhead I got another glimpse of the Welsh. 

 I had booked for Dublin, and having several hours 

 on my hands of a dark, threatening night before the 

 departure of the steamer, I sallied out in the old 

 town tilted up against the side of the hill, in the 

 most adventurous spirit I could summon up, thread- 

 ing my way through the dark, deserted streets, 

 pausing for a moment in front of a small house with 

 closed doors and closely-shuttered windows, where I 

 heard suppressed voices, the monotonous scraping of 

 a fiddle, and a lively shuffling of feet, and passing 

 on finally entered, drawn by the musical strains, a 

 quaint old place, where a blind harper, seated in the 

 corner of a rude kind of coflfee and sitting room, was 

 playing on a harp. I liked the atmosphere of the 

 place, so primitive and wholesome, and was quite 

 willing to have my attention drawn off from the 

 increasing storm without, and from the bitter cup 

 which I knew the Irish sea was preparing for me. 

 The harper presently struck up a livelier strain, 

 when two Welsh girls, who were chatting before 

 the grate, one of them as dumpy as a bag of meal 

 and the other slender and tall, stepped into the 

 middle of the floor and began to dance to the deli- 

 cious music, a Welsh mechanic and myself drink- 



