udged, by the number of
railway carriages and the amount of luggage and stores. In every crowded
compartment there were two or three men leaning out over the locked
doors; for the guard was making ready to start. All were chatting gaily
with their sweethearts, wives, and daughters, save one gloomy fellow
sitting alone in a corner, searching the crowd with sad eyes for a
wished-for face or a last greeting. The bell rang, the engine stirred;
suddenly a pretty, rosy girl flew breathlessly down the platform,
pushing her way through the groups of onlookers. The man's eyes lighted;
he rose to his feet, but the other fellows blocked the way; the door was
locked, and he had but one precious moment. Still he was equal to
the emergency, for he raised his fist and with one blow shattered the
window, got his kiss, and the train rumbled away, with his victorious
smile set in a frame of broken glass! I liked that man better than any
one I've seen since Himself deserted me for his Duty! How I hope the
pretty girl will be faithful, and how I hope that an ideal lover will
not be shot in South Africa!

And if he was truly Irish, so was the porter at a little way station
where we stopped in the dark, after being delayed interminably at
Claremorris by some trifling accident. We were eight persons packed into
a second-class carriage, and totally ignorant of our whereabouts; but
the porter, opening the door hastily, shouted, "Is there anny one there
for here?"--a question so vague and illogical that none of us said
anything in reply, but simply gazed at one another, and then laughed as
the train went on.

We are on a here-to-day-and-gone-to-morrow journey, determined to avoid
the railways, and travel by private conveyance and the public 'long
cars,' just for a glimpse of the Weeping West before we settle down
quietly in County Meath for our last few weeks of Irish life.

Thus far it has been a pursuit of the picturesque under umbrellas;
in fact, we're desthroyed wid the dint of the damp! 'Moist and
agreeable--that's the Irish notion both for climate and company.' If
the barometer bore any relation to the weather, we could plan our drives
with more discretion; but it sometimes remains as steady as a rock
during two days of sea mist, and Francesca, finding it wholly regardless
of gentle tapping, lost her temper on one occasion and rapped it
so severely as to crack the glass. That this peculiarity of Irish
barometers has been noted before we