A lady whose fine foreign relations have reached beyond the Iron Curtain (Over at Uncle Joe's : Moscow and Me) extends her infectious infatuation to the Emerald Isle in a joyous, keen-sighted romp. Accompanied by an incognito actress, she comes to grips with the elusive fairy stuff and inescapable weather of Ireland. The observer of her own intoxication, she delights in Galvay, Limerick (a city known for the broken treaty rather than for rhymes), Killarney, the castle across the way from the Blarney stone. Her encounters are many and merry; her intended visits take her to a horsebreeding farm, a weaving establishment, factories, theaters, ruins. She has words for the worthy sweepstakes and news for New York chance-buyers, formidable facts about fancies via the Folklore Society, which does not dabble; recipes for those who care, one requiring a leisurely three-week basting. There is time and space for both passing scene and scene passed -- daily incident and historical, incidence. Mrs. Atkinson makes the most (and sometimes too much) of her adventures and role as female traveler; stories deftly shape her seriousness. A personable frolic which ladies of mature and civilized tastes will particularly appreciate.