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women spoke humorously, the men spoke gravely; the women were concerned for the fuel, the men for the crops. The rain had injured the oats, the hay and the turf. Farral Markey said, "There are three very desolate things, oats lying, hay lying, turf lying, and turf lying is the most desolate of the three." It was like a sentence out of the Old Irish Triads.

The priest shook hands with us all; then, with the acolyte, he went into the room that. had been made ready. After a while we followed. The beds had been folded back into their presses, a white cloth was spread on a little table, and wax candles were lighted each side of the sacred text. We knelt down. No one was conscious of the fact that here two great and ancient pieties were reconciled. Yet the Latin words and the long-descended service might stand for one idea, and the peasant house, the kneeling family, the instruments of labour, might stand for another.

In this part of the country it is not the custom for women to sit down to a meal with the priest. The women waited in the kitchen, and the priest, the peasants and myself sat down to our particular breakfast. We had tea, bread and butter and eggs, and, in honour of the festival, a bottle of wine was put upon the table. Farral Markey entertained us with dignity. At first we talked of the amendment in the drinking habits in the country. Farral Markey told us of the time when no man would leave the fair without having taken drink; even if he were sober, a man would stagger on the road so that he might not lose the reputation of being a gallant