The husband-wife team who forsook Manhattan's bright lights to till the soil in their native land (Oh Come Ye Back to Ireland, 1987) weigh in with an amiable, low-keyed Irish travel book. Breen provides numerous sprightly pen-and-ink sketches plus jottings from her journal; Williams handles the narrative, which, among other things, includes snippets of the history, literature, and folklore of the spots they visit. With 18-month-old Deirdre in tow, the authors revisit Dublin and travel to County Kerry's Dingle Peninsula and its ancient Puck Fair (at which a wild goat is made king for three days of festivities). In Donegal, they walk on wind-and-rain-swept northern beaches and tour a ""Folk Village."" Off Galway, they bicycle the deserted roads of the Aran island of Inisheer. They even visit strife-torn Northern Ireland--where they find Belfast to be the friendliest of cities--and bunk down in pleasant bed-and-breakfasts, as well as in castles once owned by the Anglo-Irish nobility, and belly up to patrons in taverns. Williams is at his best when dealing with Irish people, particularly the fey circumlocutionary quality of their speech patterns. His muse falters when he confronts Ireland's scenery and architecture. Vistas and great houses are ""magnificient"" or ""wonderful,"" hillsides are ""green,"" and surf is ""foaming."" An unabashed mash note that should please Erin's sons, daughters, and admirers.