So far I have heard nothing from Boyse, who was to have rejoined me here, and, when ten o'clock comes round, give him up for the night, and putting out the light am shortly in the land of dreams, only to be awakened by a clatter on the door followed by the entrance of the missing man. He has put up at the Club, having reached here ahead of me. Our car he reports ready for us at nine to-morrow morning, and I shortly drive him out as it has gotten late.
One must be of a sour disposition if one does not laugh in Ireland, and be assured her people will always laugh with one, though at times there sounds a catch of a sob running through it all. Seat yourself on any spot in the island, and something funny is apt, nay almost sure, to occur before you depart; all of which is apparently arranged for your especial benefit.
Photo by W. Leonard
Statue of St. Patrick on Tara Hill
It is raining this morning and it is Sunday, which in the dominions of his Majesty does not mean a day of diversion unless you happen to be a guest in some country house. I am in a secluded seat on the portico of the hotel, when directly before me, on the only spot of pavement visible, appears a girl of fourteen dressed in everything which could never by the widest stretch of the imagination have been intended for her when purchased. She summons "Katie darlin'" not to be such a "truble" to her, but to appear and "spake to the gintleman," whereupon from around the corner of a stone post comes "Katie darlin'," a mite of a child some two feet tall with a pair of black eyes sparkling all over her dirty little face. She is robed in what looks like a blue plush opera-cloak on wrong side in front and festooned over what were once shoes; her shock of never combed hair is topped by an old woman's bonnet. "Katie darlin'" is evidently out for her Sunday. She is glad to see every one, and especially "Your honour" after the reception of a "ha'penny." Bless her dirty little face, what will be her portion in this life, I wonder! Yet, after all, being Irish, she is safer than if born of another race, for the women of her land do not go down to death and destruction as easily as those of other countries, be it said to their credit. God grant it may be so with "Katie darlin'," who goes smilingly away to meet whatever fate the future holds for her, and which disturbs her not at all as yet.