It seems long ago, does it not, when the Faerie Queene was a manuscript, tobacco just discovered, the potato a novelty, and the first Irish cherry-tree just a wee thing newly transplanted from the Canary Islands?
Were our own cherry-trees already in America when Columbus discovered us, or did the Pilgrim Fathers bring over 'slips' or 'grafts,' knowing that they would be needed for George Washington later on, so that he might furnish an untruthful world with a sublime sentiment?
We re-read Salemina's letter under the Yew Tree:-- Coolkilla House, Cork.
MY DEAREST GIRLS,--It seems years instead of days since we parted, and I miss the two madcaps more than I can say.

In your absence my life is always so quiet, discreet, dignified,--and, yes, I confess it, so monotonous! I go to none but the best hotels, meet none but the best people, and my timidity and conservatism for ever keep me in conventional paths.

Dazzled and terrified as I still am when you precipitate adventures upon me, I always find afterwards that I have enjoyed them in spite of my fears.

Life without you is like a stenographic report of a dull sermon; with you it is by turns a dramatic story, a poem, and a romance.

Sometimes it is a penny-dreadful, as when you deliberately leave your luggage on an express train going south, enter another standing upon a side track, and embark for an unknown destination.