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LETTER III. COUNTy WSXFOBD. July. Great and varied have been the enjoyments of one short week, the first of my sojourn here, and, I grieve to say, the last. For a long track lies before me, even to the opposite corner of Donegal, and Wexford with all its enchanting beauties, its thrilling recollections, and its endearing hospitality, must be left. You have often smilingly asked me to define Irish hospitality 1 cannot. It would be like painting a sunbeam on canvas for one who never felt its influence. In an Irish house you are emphatically At Home. Its inmates do not put themselves out of their way, or tease you with attentions and arrangements that make you feel you are a supernumerary, however welcome. Here the guestis at once installed in all the immunities of a settled resident: the good folks having the tact to impress you with the conviction that you make no other difference in their establishment than is occasioned by the increase of social enjoyment. In reality, every soul is plotting for your comfort and gratification all day long ; but they do it so cunningly, and make all their propositions of agreeable parties with such an easy off-hand air of every-day custom, that it seems merely accidental that everything you could best like happens to be done while you happen to be with them. In spite of your secret misgivings, they make you believe that your departure will occasion a serious blank, where no blank existed before you dropped in, a perfect stranger : and the vagrant propensity must be strong indeed that could enable a person, without a painful struggle, to disengage himself from all the ties that have imperceptibly entangled him during even a very short sojournin an Irish house. This is all the definition you will get from me : I am too happy to be able to s...
