Penelope's Progress

Penelope's Progress

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Penelope's Progress

Penelope's Progress

Read FREE!

Excerpt

"Sure a terrible time I was out o' the way,
Over the sea, over the sea,
Till I come to Ireland one sunny day, --
Betther for me, betther for me :
The first time me rut got the feel o' the ground
I was strollin'along in an Irish city
That hasn't its aquil the world around,
For the air that is sweet an' the girls that are pretty."

Moira O'Neill.

DUBLIN, O'Carolan's Private Hotel.

IT is the most absurd thing in the world that Salemina, Francesca, and I should be in Ireland together.

That any three spinsters should be fellow-travelers is not in itself extraordinary, and so our former journeyings in England and Scotland could hardly be described as eccentric in any way; but now that I am a matron and Francesca is shortly to be married, it is odd, to say the least, to see us cosily ensconced in a private sitting-room . . .

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