"They have the passwords," says he, "and all the tokens, and though I 'm, your honor's man, I was obliged to take them into my house and feed them." "It's a bad business, Sam," says he. "What are they to get for it?" "Five pound between them, sir,--if it's done complete." "Would they take three," says K. I., "and let me live?" "I don't know, sir; but, if you like, I'll ask them." "I would like it, indeed," says K. I. And down went Sam to the gate-house, and spoke to them. They were both decent, reasonable men, and agreed at once to the offer. The money was paid, and the two came up and ate a hearty breakfast at the house, and K. I. walked more than a mile of the road with them afterwards,--talking about the crops and the state of the country down westward,--and shook hands with them cordially at parting. Now, Molly, this is as true as the Bible, and yet there's people and there's newspapers call the Irish "Irreclaimable savages." It is as big a lie as ever was written! The real truth is, they don't know how, if they really wished, to reclaim them! And after all, how little reclaiming they need! To hear English people discuss Ireland, you 'd suppose that it was the worst part of Arabia Felix they were describing. But I have n't patience to go on; I fly out the moment I hear them, and faith they 're not proud of themselves when I 'm done. "I wish you were in the House, Mrs. Dodd," says one of them to me the other night. "I wish I was," says I; "if I would n't make it too hot for Slowbuck, my name isn't Jemima! for he's the one that abuses us most of all!" Well, I must say, we are well repaid for all the cruel treatment we receive at home, by the kindness and "consideration," as they call it, we meet with abroad! The minute a foreigner hears we 're Irish, he says, "Oh dear, how sorry we are for your sufferings; we never cease deploring your hard lot;" and to be sure, Molly, "wicked Old England," and the "Harlequin Flag," as Dan called it, come in for their share of abuse. Besides these advantages, I must remark that Catholics is greatly thought of on the Continent; for it is n't as in Ireland, where 's it's only the common people to mass. Here you may see royalty at their devotions. They sit in little galleries with glass windows, which they open every now and then, to take part in the prayers; and indeed, whatever rank and fashion is in the place, you 're sure to see it "at church;" mind, Molly, at church, for no educated Catholic even says "at mass." You want to hear "all about the converts to our holy faith," you say, but this is n't the place to get you the best information; but as I hope we 'll pass the winter in Italy, I 'll maybe be able to give you some account of them. Lord George tells me that the Pope makes Rome delightful to strangers; but whether it's "dinners" or "receptions," I don't know. At any rate, I conclude he doesn't give "balls."