"When they'd crested the final hill, the huge gathering of clans spread out below, she'd turned to him. "This is what we call a 'booley'--summer grazing for our cattle." "But there's a house," he said, perplexed. "Well, of course there is--a booley house. Where else would the people sleep--amongst the herd?" Essex smiled, chastised. "You'll just have to leave off your silly conception of the 'wild Irish.' Believe it or not, we are civilized, even at the booley. Did you know that back in the last millennium all the European monarchs for eight hundred years insisted on Irish councilors and clergy to advise them on matters of church and state, for of all men they were the best educated and most wise? Did you know that without the Irish monks slavin' over their illuminated texts, all the great books of Roman civilization would have been lost to the barbarian hoards? No, I can see that you didn't." A"