"Oh, the good woman," said Mrs. Kelly, feelingly. "Well, it's true. Be kind and be good and be humble and ye'll be rewarrded."
After I had finished the lunch she asked me if I could take a picture of her.
I told her that I could, but she must come out of doors. Off came her man's cap and she arranged her wisps of white hair and washed her face and then said, "Be sure to get me eyes good and clear. I do take a fairly (very) good picture, and me eyes always come out fine."
The good woman had eyes she might well be proud of in spite of her desire to be humble, and they danced and snapped with joy as I leveled the camera at her and took her photograph.
All the afternoon I climbed the beautiful heather purpled hills in the vicinity with her youngest son, a boy of nineteen, eating wild fraochans, a kind of whortle-berry, and had "afternoon tea" with her at six and then went on to catch my train.
The son was a very intelligent boy and I was struck with his easy and correct use of English. He told me that it was easier to understand me than an Englishman, and I took it as a compliment, for I certainly never heard better English spoken than is talked in the Dublin district by rich and poor alike. London and New York should come to Dublin and vicinity to learn the proper pronunciation of English.
Wicklow Peasants
As I left the village I felt that I had lost one good time to have another, and the day on the hills made me sleep like a top.