"'Bad scran to the gurrul,' says they, 'an' it's the blessed fools we was fur belavin' her.' Thin they come to talk to aitch other, an' wan says, 'Sure she thought most av me, fur she towld me she hoped I'd bate yez,' says he. 'Begob, she said to me that same,' says the other wans, an' they stud, scrotchin' the heads av thim an' disconsarted intirely.
"'An' phat's the good av fightin,' says the ould King, 'bein' as we're all in the thrap at wanst?'
"'Thrue fur ye,' says they. 'We'll dispinse widout her. We'll have it out wid the King o' Galway,' says they.
"An' they all wint into the coort an' had the bit an' sup, an' made a thraty forninst the King av Galway. It was the great war that was in it, the Siven Kings wid the King av Galway, an' bate him out o' the counthry intirely. But it's my consate that they was all fools to be afther fightin' consarnin' wan woman whin the worruld is full o' thim, an' any wan competint to give a man plenty to think av, bekase whin she gives her attinshun to it, any woman can be the divil complately."
TAMING THE POOKA.
The west and northwest coast of Ireland shows many remarkable geological formations, but, excepting the Giant's Causeway, no more striking spectacle is presented than that to the south of Galway Bay. From the sea, the mountains rise in terraces like gigantic stairs, the layers of stone being apparently harder and denser on the upper surfaces than beneath, so the lower portion of each layer, disintegrating first, is washed away by the rains and a clearly defined step is formed. These terraces are generally about twenty feet high, and of a breadth, varying with the situation and exposure, of from ten to fifty feet.