any other form of old clothes, only rather more grotesque than most.

In the Long Vacation of 1848 Froude went alone to Ireland for the
third time, and shut himself up at Killarney. From Killarney he
wrote a long account of himself to Clough:

"KILLARNEY, July 15, 1848.

"I came over here where for the present I am all day in the woods
and on the lake and retire at night into an unpleasant hotel, where
I am sitting up writing this and waiting with the rest of the
household rather anxiously for the arrival of a fresh wedded pair.
Next week I move off across the lake to a sort of lodge of Lord
Kenmare, where I have persuaded an old lady to take me into the
family. I am going to live with them, and I am going to have her
ladyship's own boudoir to scribble in. It is a wild place enough
with porridge and potatoes to eat, varied with what fish I may
provide for myself and arbutus berries if it comes to starving. The
noble lord has been away for some years. They will put a deal table
into the said boudoir for me, and if living under a noble roof has
charms for me I have that at least to console myself with. I can't
tell about your coming. There may be a rising in September, and you
may be tempted to turn rebel, you know; and I don't know whether you
like porridge, or whether a straw bed is to your--not 'taste,'
touch is better, I suppose. It is perfectly beautiful here, or it
would be if it wasn't for the swarm of people about one that are for
ever insisting on one's saying so. Between hotel-keeper and carmen
and boatmen and guides that describe to my honour the scenery, and
young girls that insist on my honour taking a taste of the goats'
milk, and a thousand other creatures that insist on boring me and