A little later I got from Ruth a new light on Irish veracity--or rather, lack of it. She says it arises from no evil motive, but, on the contrary, from kindness of heart! This, she added, makes it different from any other lying in the world. This moral, or immoral, dictum was called forth by the following: I had lost my way--no uncommon experience--and stopped at a hovel to inquire the way. In answer to my call a veritable giant appeared. I asked if the road we were on would bring us to Blarney Castle? After a moment's hesitation he said it would. Not feeling sure he knew, I asked again if there was any turning I must take? But he said: "No, keep straight on this road and it will bring you there." There was something in the man's face that led me to think he could not be an ordinary peasant, and therefore I asked him if he lived there? "I was born here," he replied, rather defiantly. "But I've been living in Australia for the past seven years, and have now come back to see the old people." I said to myself that, unlike most Irishmen when they migrate, he had not bettered himself. As if he read my thought, as perhaps he did, he added, with a glance at his old and torn clothing: "I've better clothes than these, but why would I be wearing them to shame the neighbors!" Could Sir Philip Sidney have said anything finer? "Well," I said, as I started the motor, "when I next come here you'll have Home Rule!" At that the man's whole face lighted up, and he cried: "Glory be to God, ye're a prophet! What's your name?" When I answered "Dobson," without a moment's hesitation he exclaimed: "I've heerd of you!" I laughed and said: "I see you've kissed the Blarney stone yourself." But there was no jocular reply. The thing was too serious for that. The man was inflamed. Why cannot the English appreciate that the love of nationality is inextinguishable? The rain began again and fell persistently and we slithered on our way. It's a long lane that has no turning, and this was one, though it did nothing but turn. Always it was leading to the right, though I _felt_ it should lead straight on or else bear to the left. Finally we came to a highway that somehow looked familiar, and before we had gone a mile farther, I found that we were where we had started from an hour before! There was the wretched hovel where the giant dwelt, and a vigorous shout brought him to the door. "See here, my friend," I cried, "what did you mean by telling me that that road would lead to Blarney Castle? I have kept on it all the time, and it has brought me back here."