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The chief ghost said to them, "Now pity this son-in-law of yours. He is looking for his wife. Neither the great distance that he has come nor the fearful sights that he has seen here have weakened his heart. You can see how tender-hearted he is. He not only mourns because he has lost his wife, but he mourns because his little boy is now alone, with no mother; so pity him and give him back his wife.","Oh, no, not that," says Mona. "Poor Ireland! Every one either laughs at her or hates her. Though I like my adopted country, still I shall always feel for old Erin what I could never feel for another land.","Well, I can't, you know," with a sigh. "But no matter: you will enjoy the scenery even more by yourself.","Well, now," they replied; "we have those animals, how are we to kill them?",Doatie and Geoffrey have walked to a distant slit. Nolly is gazing vacantly through another, trying feebly to discern the landscape beyond. Lady Rodney is on thorns. They are all listening to what Mona is going to say next.,"You are," says Mona, eagerly. "Do you think," tears gathering in her eyes, "that I could be happy when those I love are reduced to despair?","Do not stir. Your head is badly cut, an' it bleeds still," says Mona, with a shoulder. "I cannot stop it. Oh, what shall I do?","Oh, nonsense!" says Rodney, who is in high good humor and can see no rocks ahead. "When my mother sees you she will fall in love with you on the spot, as will everybody else. But look here, you know, you mustn't call her Mrs. Rodney!",Here and there a pack is discovered, so unexpectedly as to be doubly welcome. And sometimes a friendly native will tell him of some quiet corner where "his honor" will surely find some birds, "an be able in the evenin' to show raison for his blazin'." It is a somewhat wild life, but a pleasant one, and perhaps, on the whole, Mr. Rodney finds Ireland an agreeable take-in, and the inhabitants of it by no means as eccentric or as bloodthirsty as he has been led to believe. He has read innumerable works on the Irish peasantry, calculated to raise laughter in the breasts of those who claim the Emerald Isle as their own,—works written by people who have never seen Ireland, or, having seen it, have thought it a pity to destroy the glamour time has thrown over it, and so reduce it to commonplaceness.,For a long time the buffalo had not been seen. Every one was hungry, for the hunters could find no food for the people.,"No. Play anything monotonous, that is slow and dignified besides, and it will answer; in fact, anything at all," says Geoffrey, largely, at which Violet smiles and seats herself at the piano.,"Of love generally?—no," with a disdainful glance,—"merely of your love of comfort.".