I saw a good deal of Belfast internally. I cycled through it for the greater part of two days and had a good view of its face, as it were. But I did not get over deeply into conversation with it. I had only a few words with it now and then. You can have a broken head after half a dozen words with Belfast, if you go the right way about it, but I did not go there looking for trouble. My visit was a quiet one. I interfered with no wasps’ nest. Perhaps this metaphor is too severe. I should possibly have likened the city to a beehive. I meddled not with that beehive in any spirit of aggression or levity. I just walked round it, listened for a moment to the buzz and hum of it, saw the bees at work, and then withdrew out of range. I am now going to set down my impressions of it as best I can give them to you, with diffidence, and only for what they are worth.