Behind his back a leprechaun scurried away, Ireland glaring lightly at it before looking down at America. "Mm, aye, a few of them. Mainly 'tis just me own copies of old books long 'go gone." And well, the lost puppy look was just too much for her, so she bent down and scooped him up, perching him easily on her hip. "All of them written in me own hand though, none of this printin' press, bein' far too early for them." She tilted her head to the side, thinking a moment. "Pretty sure I've one or two in English so you can be lookin' 'long with me if you're wantin'."

Okay so her old English books would be full of misspellings and scratched out words and random Gaelic that slipped in because her mind forgot to translate and all of it in quill pen but he could still read it right? Of course he could.