lliam, Prince of Orange!), and within
driving distance of Killkienan, Croagh-Patrick, Domteagh, and Tara Hill
itself. If you know your Royal Meath, these geographical suggestions
will give you some idea of our location; if not, take your map of
Ireland, please (a thing nobody has near him), and find the town of
Tuam, where you left us a little time ago. You will see a railway
line from Tuam to Athenry, Athlone, and Mullingar. Anybody can
visit Mullingar--it is for the million; but only the elect may go to
Devorgilla. It is the captive of our bow and spear; or, to change the
figure, it is a violet by a mossy stone, which we refuse to have plucked
from its poetic solitude and worn in the bosom or in the buttonhole of
the tourist.

At Mullingar, then, we slip on enchanted garments which conceal us from
the casual eye, and disappear into what is, in midsummer, a bower of
beauty. There you will find, when you find us, Devorgilla, lovely enough
to be Tir-nan-og, that Land of the Ever Youthful well know to the Celts
of long ago. Here we have rested our weary bodies and purified our
travel-stained minds. Fresh from the poverty-ridden hillsides of
Connaught, these rich grazing-lands, comfortable houses, magnificent
demesnes and castles, are unspeakably grateful to the eye and healing
to the spirit. We have not forgotten, shall never forget, our Connemara
folk, nor yet Omadhaun Pat and dark Timsy of Lisdara in the north; but
it is good, for a change, to breathe in this sense of general comfort,
good cheer, and abundance.

Benella is radiant, for she is near enough to Trim to go there
occasionally to seek for traces of her ancestress, Mary Boyce; and
as for Salemina, this bit of country is a Mecca for antiquaries and
scholars, and we are fairly surrounded by towers, tumuli, and cairns.
"It's mostly ruins they do be wantin', these days," said a wayside
acquaintance. "I built a stone house for my donkey on the knockaun
beyant my cabin just, and bedad, there's a crowd round it every Saturday
callin' it the risidence of wan of the Danish kings! An' they are
diggin' at Tara now, ma'am, looking for the Ark of the Covenant! They do
be sayin' the prophet Jeremiah come over from England and brought it wid
him. Begorra, it's a lucky man he was to get away wid it!"

Added to these advantages of position, we are within a few miles of
Rosnaree, Dr. La Touche's demesne, to which he comes home from Dublin
to-morrow, bringing with him our dear