hordes rush off perspiring over the
Continent and elsewhere, and just a few nice people come and come
again to the South of Ireland, and say they like that cordial greeting
that always is waiting for the Englishman personally, who only in the
abstract is disliked. Then the Irish railways and hotel-keepers act in
a very nice and gentlemanly fashion; the former do not force on the
notice of the tourist hordes that a train leaves Euston or Paddington
every evening which would land them here at 10.30 in the morning for a
few shillings. The latter are quite content with the knowledge they
have themselves that they possess now as comfortable and
well-fitted-up hotels as any in the world.

A little old Irish lady was reduced to selling apples in the street.
"Fresh apples, fresh apples!" she would call out; then, to herself, "I
hope no one will hear me."

I do not know, indeed, whether we have to thank most our kind
neighbours or the railway and hotel people for the blessing we enjoy
in this Land of the Evening Calm that still keeps

"A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing."

One fills one's lungs with the delicious air, aromatic with pine
perfume, to send it out in a sigh of infinite content.

From across the water comes a sound of music; it is some one playing a
cornet. The air the unseen musician is playing sounds familiar. He is
only practising--learning---- Ye gods! Is there no place where one can
get away from that air? But yet, does not it speak volumes for the
remoteness of this harbourage of repose to realise that the unseen
musician is only now _learning_ "The Honeysuckle and the Bee"?

[Illustration: Japs Entering Pekin.]

XXI

WITH SOME TOILERS OF THE SEA

"Stop makin' a noise wid your face, man, and cook the spuds; 'tis time
for dinner." Thus Tim to Mike, who had been expounding a theory of his
on the wayward habits of mackerel. Tim occasionally comes out with
quaint phrases worthy a wider audience. "Mr. Speaker, the right hon.
member who has just been making a noise with his face on this
amendment"--how would that sound?

There are three men in the boat, not including the writer--Tim, Mike,
and Dennis--engaged in lobster-fishing. They have lived in her now six
weeks from the time they left Baltimore; "doin' purty well, thank
God," they admit. The fishing and the weather and the price all "purty
fair." They get ten shillings a dozen for the