"
"That method appeals strongly to the fancy," said Salemina drily.
"What subtle associations have you already established in Ireland?"
"Let me see," she responded thoughtfully; "the list is not a long
one. Limerick and Carrickmacross for lace, Shandon for the bells,
Blarney and Donnybrook for the stone and the fair, Kilkenny for the
cats, and Balbriggan for the stockings."
"You are sordid this morning," reproved Salemina; "it would be
better if you remembered Limerick by the famous siege, and
Balbriggan as the place where King William encamped with his army
after the battle of the Boyne."
"I've studied the song-writers more than the histories and
geographies," I said, "so I should like to go to Bray and look up
the Vicar, then to Coleraine to see where Kitty broke the famous
pitcher; or to Tara, where the harp that once, or to Athlone, where
dwelt Widow Malone, ochone, and so on; just start with an armful of
Tom Moore's poems and Lover's and Ferguson's, and, yes," I added
generously, "some of the nice moderns, and visit the scenes they've
written about."
"And be disappointed," quoth Francesca cynically. "Poets see
everything by the light that never was on sea or land; still I won't
deny that they help the blind, and I should rather like to know if
there are still any Nora Creinas and Sweet Peggies and Pretty Girls
Milking their Cows."
"I am very anxious to visit as many of the Round Towers as
possible," said Salemina.
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