“Ye see these columns, sur. They’re the tallest in the Causeway. Ye can see their formation now, sur. They’re all in short lengths of three or four feet, and every joint is a perfect ball and socket wan.” “What’s the object of the ball and socket?” “Ah, who can tell that, sur?” “Hadn’t the professor some pet fiction about it?” “He _did_ say, sur——” “I was sure of it.” “——That it was on account of the uneven cooling of the lava. Now, look at this, sur. This is—_be_ careful, sur. Ye were nearly aff that toime again. This is the Goiant’s Wishin’ Chair. If ye sit down here, ye can have three wishes, sur.” “I won’t sit down.” “Have ye nothing to wish, sur?” “No. All I wanted was to meet the biggest liar in the world, but I don’t need to wish for that now.” “Then ye’ve met him, sur. Well, Oi suppose ye like company, sur?” “Anything else to be seen around here?” “Do ye see those basaltic columns on the face av the cliff, sur? That’s the Goiant’s Organ, sur.” “Who plays on it?” “Well, sur, the storms do. When the wind comes dhriving in from the Atlantic, and the waves lash up the Causeway, they do be sayin’ that whin the timpast is at its hoight all the grand tones av an organ can be heard comin’ from thim pipes.” “Good enough. That’s worth the money. Here you are. I must be going now to catch my train. Good-bye.” “Here’s a very dacent mon, sur, that sells picturs av the Causeway.” “I don’t care for any.” “They’re very chape, sur.” “I want to forget the Causeway.” “Then good-bye, sur, an’ thank ye, sur.” “Good-bye.” * * * * * The Guide (to the Picture-seller): “De ye see thot mon sprawlin’ over the Causeway? Well, thot’s the dombdest fule Oi iver tuk over these racks. Oi wouldn’t take that mon over the Causeway agin fur all the money in the North av Oireland. De ye mind _thot_ now?” _Robert Barr_ (“_Luke Sharp_”). ------------------------------------------------------------------------ _HANS BREITMANN’S BARTY._ HANS BREITMANN gife a barty; Dey had biano-blayin’, I felled in lofe mit a ’Merican frau, Her name vas Madilda Yane. She hat haar as prown ash a pretzel, Her eyes vas himmel-plue, Und vhen dey looket indo mine, Dey shplit mine heart in dwo. [Illustration: “VENT SHPINNEN’ ROUND UND ROUND.”] Hans Breitmann gife a barty, I vent dere you’ll pe pound; I valtzet mit Madilda Yane, Und vent shpinnen’ round und round. De pootiest Fraulein in de house, She vayed ’pout dwo hoondred pound, Und every dime she gife a shoomp She make de vindows sound.