* * * * * +-----------------------------------------------------------+ | Transcriber's Note: | | | | The original book for this e-text is full of inconsistent | | hyphenation, punctuation and capitalization, which has | | been preserved. This e-text contains Irish dialect, with | | unusual spelling. | | | | Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. For | | a complete list, please see the end of this document. | | | +-----------------------------------------------------------+ * * * * * IRELAND AS IT ISAND AS IT WOULD BEUNDER HOME RULE. SIXTY-TWO LETTERSWRITTEN BY THESPECIAL COMMISSIONEROF THEBIRMINGHAM DAILY GAZETTE, BETWEEN MARCH AND AUGUST, 1893. _With Map of Ireland showing the places visited. _ BIRMINGHAM:BIRMINGHAM DAILY GAZETTE COMPANY, LIMITED, HIGH STREET. LONDON:47, FLEET STREET, E. C. PRINTED BYTHE BIRMINGHAM GAZETTE CO. , LTD. , 52 AND 53, HIGH STREET, BIRMINGHAM. [Illustration] SPECIAL COMMISSIONER'S PREFACE. Irish Loyalists will not soon forget the early part of 1893. Arrivingin Dublin in March, it at once became evident that the industrialcommunity regarded Home Rule, not with the academical indifferenceattributed to the bulk of the English electorate, but with absolutedismay; not as a possibility which might be pleasantly discussedbetween friends, but as a wholly unnecessary measure, darklyiniquitous, threatening the total destruction of all they held dear. English lukewarmness was hotly resented, but the certainty thatEngland must herself receive a dangerous if not a mortal wound, wasscant comfort to men who felt themselves on the eve of a hopelessstruggle for political, nay, even for material existence. This wasbefore the vast demonstrations of Belfast and Dublin, before thememorable function in the Albert Hall, London, before the hundreds ofspeakers sent forth by the Irish Unionist Alliance had visitedEngland, spreading the light of accurate knowledge, returning toIreland with tidings of comfort and joy. The change in public feelingwas instant and remarkable. Although from day to day the passage ofthe Bill through the Commons became more and more a certainty, theIrish Unionists completely discarded their fears, resuming theirnormal condition of trust and confidence. Mr. H. L. Barnardo, J. P. , ofDublin, aptly expressed the universal feeling when he said:-- "We have been to England, and we know three things, --that the Billwill pass the Commons, that the Lords will throw it out, and that theEnglish people don't care if they do. " This accounted for the renewed serenity of the well-doing classes, whose air and attitude were those of men thankful for having narrowlyescaped a great danger. The rebound was easily observable in citieslike Dublin and Belfast, where also was abundantly evident the placidresignation of the Separatist forces, whose discontent with the actualBill and profound distrust of its framer, superadded to anever-increasing qualmishness inevitably arising from acquaintance withthe prospective statesmen of an Irish Legislature, caused them to lookforward to the action of the Lords with ill-disguised complacency. Inregions more remote the scattered Loyalists lacked the consolationarising from numbers and propinquity to England, and accordingly theirtremors continued, and, in a smaller degree, continue still. To themthe Bill is a matter of life and death; and while their industry iscrippled, their mental peace is destroyed by the ever-present tortureof suspense. As to the merits of the case for Home Rule, I would earnestly askfair-minded opponents to remember that during my wanderings I met withnumbers of intelligent and honourable men, both Scots and English, whohaving come to Ireland as earnest, nay, even by their own confession, as bigoted Gladstonians, had changed their opinions on personalacquaintance with the facts, and strove with all the energy ofconscientious men who had unwittingly led others astray, to repair, sofar as in them lay, the results of their former political action. Andit should be especially noted that of all those I so met who hadarrived in Ireland as Home Rulers, not one retained his originalfaith. A very slight process of inductive reasoning will develop thesuggestiveness of this incontestible fact. Readers will hardly require to be reminded that the letters werewritten, not in studious retirement with ample time at command, butfor a Daily Paper, at the rate of nearly eight newspaper columns aweek, in the intervals of travel and inquiry, often under gravedifficulties and with one eye on the inexorable clock. The precepts ofthe Master were of necessity ignored:-- _Sæpe stylum vertas, iterum quæ digna legi sint Scripturus; neque, te ut miretur turba labores Contentus paucis lectoribus. _ But before committing them to paper, the facts were sifted withscrupulous care, and where personal investigation was impracticable, nothing was adduced except upon evidence of weight and authoritysufficient to prove anything. And as during a six months' hue and cryof the Nationalist press of Ireland, aided and abetted by some Englishprints, no single statement was in any degree shaken, the letters havere-appeared precisely as at first. R. J. B. , Special Commissioner of the _Birmingham Daily Gazette_. [Illustration] [Illustration] EDITOR'S REVIEW. The _Birmingham Daily Gazette_ of August 18, 1893, thus summed up thelabours of its Special Commissioner:--We publish to-day the last ofour Special Commissioner's letters on "Ireland As It Is. " His task hasbeen an arduous one, and not without a strong element of personaldanger. That he has been kept under the close observation of the Irishpolice; that they have frequently given him timely warning of personaldanger; that he has dared to go to places in County Clare when thepolice warned him to refrain, and his native car-driver refused toventure, are facts which he has modestly abstained from bringing intothe prominence they deserved. We must necessarily speak of the meritsof his labour with a certain measure of reserve, but the many letterswhich lie before us are at least a gratifying proof that his work hasbeen appreciated, and that it has cast new lights upon the Irishproblem. To the simple direction, "State nothing that you cannot standby, " he has been faithful even beyond our most sanguine hopes. Astranger in a strange land seeking information wherever it can befound, and compelled on many occasions to accept the statements madeto him, may easily be led into error. It is to the credit of ourCommissioner that he has withheld some of the most sensational storiesretailed to him, because he had not an opportunity of verifying themin detail. The notorious Father Humphreys, of Tipperary, will notsoon forget his experience of giving the lie to the _Gazette_; neitherwill those who organised an "indignation" meeting at Tuam be likely tocongratulate themselves upon having stung our Commissioner intoretaliation. It may be recalled as an illustration of the desperateefforts made to discredit him that after he had attended a Nationalistmeeting at Dundalk he was denounced as a "liar" and a "pimp" becausehe had stated that he was invited to address the score of persons whohad "met in their thousands" to shake the foundations of the BritishEmpire. His assailants fiercely declared that he was not invited tospeak; he was only informed that he might address the meeting if hedesired to do so! Our Commissioner has travelled about four thousand miles since hestarted last March. He has taken no lop-sided view of Ireland. Theprosperous North has been contrasted with the stagnant South, and thecauses of their difference have been explained. The splendid work ofindustrial development inaugurated in the poverty-stricken West bythat greatest of all Irish Secretaries, Mr. Balfour, has been comparedwith the mischievous encouragements of idleness, the lavishprofessions of sentimental sympathy, and the dogged refusals ofsubstantial help since the present Government took office. Above all, our Commissioner has provided conclusive evidence that IrishNationalism is a mere delusive sham--a paltry euphemism for thepredatory passion which a succession of professional agitators havearoused in the hearts of the people. If the Land Question could besettled, there would be an end of the clamour for independence and ofthe insensate shrieking against British rule. With a definite stake inthe country the peasantry upon whom the Nationalist agitation mainlyrelies would cease to place their faith in the impecunious andblatant scoundrelism which fattens upon the discord and misery whichit provokes in the name of Patriotism. Our Commissioner believes thatthe priests, who have an even stronger hold upon the people than thepoliticians, would find their power weakened if it were possible togreatly extend the system of peasant proprietary which it was thepurpose of the Land Purchase of 1891 to foster. Land hunger lies atthe root of Irish disaffection, and the Romish hierarchy have found inthe deep-rooted prejudices and the ignorant superstitions of thepeople a foundation upon which they have reared an appallingsuperstructure of social and spiritual tyranny. Politicians havetaught the peasantry to believe that they have been robbed of the landwhich is their only means of subsistence in a country that isdestitute of mineral wealth, that lacks capital, and is overshadowedby the enormous commercial energy of Great Britain. The priests haveadopted the theses of politicians, and have brought the terrors oftheir sacred calling into play in order to make themselves the mastersof the people. Home Rule would be the signal for a ghastly civil war, ruinous toIreland, and fatal to that spirit of religious toleration by which theRoman Catholics and the Protestants have obtained equal rights ofcitizenship under the rule of the Queen and the Imperial Parliament. The cultured Roman Catholics of England and Ireland look with pain andregret at the insensate bigotry and domineering intolerance which madethe exposures in County Meath possible. They see in these wild claimsof absolutism in the domain of temporal as well as spiritual affairs, a grave danger to all pure religion. They perceive that the revival ofthe old sectarian passions in Ireland cannot fail to react on GreatBritain, and even if the Keltic priesthood triumphed over the UlsterProtestants their victory would be a fatal one to all who hold by theRoman Catholic faith in England. Home Rule would bring misery anddisaster in its train, and even the Parnellite section of the Irishpeople, who have shaken off clerical domination, tremble at theprospect of it while nine-tenths of their co-religionists aredestitute of personal freedom. We must find the solution of Ireland'sdisaffection in another way, and mainly by a bold handling of theagrarian question, which lies at the root of all. The task before theUnionist party is not a light one. They must crush the Nationalistconspiracy, and uproot the fantastic hopes which unscrupulous men haveimplanted in the minds of an ignorant and credulous people. They mustextend the noble system of practical aid to Ireland so successfullyinaugurated by Mr. Balfour in his light railway, fishery, andagricultural development schemes. And they must mitigate the frictionbetween owners and occupiers of the soil by making it easy andprofitable for tenants and landlords alike to avail themselves ofBritish credit in terminating a relationship which has been fraughtwith occasions of bitter hostility and mistrust. Under such a policywe can see bright prospects of a happy future for the sister island, but under the policy of Home Rule we see only the lowering clouds ofcivil war and the dark shadows of reawakened religious animosity. [Illustration] CONTENTS. PAGE No. 1. --The Spirit of the Capital Dublin, March 28th 1 No. 2. --Panic and Disaster Dublin, March 30th 7 No. 3. --Ulster's Preparations for War Belfast, April 1st 13 No. 4. --Mr. Balfour's Welcome Belfast, April 4th 20 No. 5. --Has Mr. Morley Lied? Ballymena, April 6th 27 No. 6. --The Exodus of Industry Dublin, April 8th 34 Mr. Balfour in Dublin Dublin, April 8th 40 No. 7. --Bad for England, Ruinous to Ireland Limerick, April 11th 43 No. 8. --Terrorism at Tipperary Tipperary, April 12th 48 No. 9. --Tyranny and Terrorism Oolagh, Co. Tipperary, April 15th 54 No. 10. --Defying the Land League Cork, April 20th 61 No. 11. --The Cry for Peace and Quietness Tralee, Co. Kerry, April 20th 67 No. 12. --English Ignorance and Irish Perversity Limerick, April 22nd 75 No. 13. --The Curse Of County Clare Rathkeale, Co. Limerick, April 24th 81 No. 14. --Lawlessness and Laziness Killaloe, Co. Clare, April 27th 89 No. 15. --The Peril to English Trade Ennis, Co. Clare, April 29th 96 No. 16. --Civil War in County Clare Bodyke, Co. Clare, May 2nd 102 No. 17. --Rent at the Root of Nationalism Bodyke, Co. Clare, May 2nd 109 No. 18. --Hard Facts for English Readers Gort, Co. Galway, May 6th 116 No. 19. --Indolence and Improvidence Athenry, Co. Galway, May 6th 123 No. 20. --Religion at the Bottom of the Irish Question Tuam, Co. Galway, May 9th 128 No. 21. --Mr. Balfour's Fisheries Galway Town, May 13th 135 No. 22. --The Land League's Reign at Loughrea Loughrea, May 16th 142 No. 23. --The Reign of Indolence Salthill, May 18th 149 No. 24. --The Aran Islands Galway, May 20th 156 No. 25. --The Priests and Outrage Moycullen, Connemara, May 23rd 163 No. 26. --The Connemara Railway Oughterard, Connemara, May 23rd 169 No. 27. --Cultivating Irish Industry Athenry, May 27th 177 No. 28. --Could we Reconquer Ireland? Barna, Co. Galway, May 30th 184 No. 29. --What Rack-Rent Means Mullingar, Co. Westmeath, June 1st 190 No. 30. --The "Union of Hearts" Athlone, June 3rd 197 No. 31. --The "Union of Hearts" Westport, June 6th 203 No. 32. --Home Rule and Irish Immigration Castlebar, June 8th 209 No. 33. --Tuam's Indignation Meeting Ballina, June 10th 217 No. 34. --Why Ireland does not Prosper Oughewall, June 10th 223 No. 35. --In a Congested District Newport, Co. Mayo, June 15th 230 No. 36. --Irish Improvidence the Stumbling Block Mulranney, Co. Mayo, June 17th 237 No. 37. --On Achil Island Achil Sound, June 20th 244 No. 38. --The Achil Islanders Dugort, Achil Island, June 22nd 251 No. 39. --Irish Unfitness for Self-Government Castlereagh, June 24th 259 No. 40. --Object Lessons in Irish Self-Government Roscommon, June 27th 265 No. 41. --The Changed Spirit of the Capital Dublin, June 29th 271 No. 42. --At a Nationalist Meeting Dundalk, July 1st 279 No. 43. --In the Prosperous North Newry, July 4th 285 No. 44. --The Prosperous North Armagh, July 6th 291 No. 45. --A Picture of Romish "Toleration" Monaghan, July 8th 298 No. 46. --A Bit of Foreign Opinion Enniskillen, July 11th 304 No. 47. --The Loyalists and the Lawless Clones, July 13th 310 No. 48. --A Search for "Orange Rowdyism" Belfast, July 15th 317 No. 49. --The Constitution of the Orange Lodges Portadown, July 18th 324 No. 50. --The Hollowness of Home Rule Warrenpoint, July 20th 331 No. 51. --The Irish Press on "Finality" Strabane, July 22nd 337 No. 52. --How the Priests Control the People Raphoe, Co. Donegal, July 25th 345 No. 53. --What they think in County Donegal Stranorlar, Co. Donegal, July 27th 351 No. 54. --A Sample of Irish "Loyalty" Killygordon, July 29th 358 No. 55. --A Truly Patriotic Priest Donegal, August 1st 365 No. 56. --Do-Nothing Donegal Donegal, August 3rd 371 No. 57. --Barefooted and Dilatory Ballyshannon, August 5th 378 No. 58. --The Truth about Bundoran Sligo, August 8th 383 No. 59. --Irish Nationalism is not Patriotism Birmingham, August 11th 390 No. 60. --Land Hunger: its Cause, Effect, and Remedy Birmingham, August 14th 396 No. 61. --Clerical Domination and its Consequences Birmingham, August 16th 403 No. 62. --Civil War a certainty of Home Rule Birmingham, August 18th 409 [For a General Index the reader is referred to the end of thevolume. ] IRELAND AS IT IS AND AS IT WOULD BE UNDER HOME RULE. IRELAND AS IT IS AND AS IT WOULD BE UNDER HOME RULE No. 1. --THE SPIRIT OF THE CAPITAL. By the Spirit of the Capital I do not mean, as an Irishman would tellyou, Jameson's whiskey, nor yet the vivifying soul of Guinness'sdouble stout, but the mental posture of the dwellers in Dublin withreference to Home Rule. There can be no doubt of the interestprevailing in the Irish metropolis. The people are wrought into afever-heat of expectancy and intense nervous excitement. Home Rule isthe only topic of conversation. In hotels, on the steamers, in railwaycarriages, on tramcars, in the market-place, on the steps of thetemples, at the corners of the streets, in the music halls, thewondering stranger hears of Home Rule, Home Rule, Home Rule, first, last, midst, and without end. Obviously so much discussion shows difference of opinion, divergencyof conception, conflicting interests. It is borne in upon you that theIrish people are far from agreed as to what Home Rule means, and thatevery individual has his own pet notion, the various theoriesdiffering as widely as the education and social position of theirproposers. But the most striking feature in the attitude of Dublin isundoubtedly the intense, the deep-rooted, the perfervid hatred of thebill shown by the better sort of people, the nervous anxiety of thelaw-abiding classes, the undisguised alarm of everybody who hasanything to lose, whether commercial men, private traders, manufacturers, or the representatives of learning and culture. Themere shadow of Home Rule has already seriously affected stocks andsecurities, has brought about withdrawal of capital, and is sendingboth English and Irish commercial travellers home empty-handed. SirHoward Grubb, maker of the great telescope of the Lick Observatory, America, an Irishman whose scientific and commercial successes are aglory to his country, and whose titular honours have been won by sheerforce of merit, declares that the passing of the Home Rule Bill willbe the signal heralding his departure to England, with plant andworking staff, and that he has been preparing for this since 1886. Oneof the largest booksellers in the city tells me that, acting inconjunction with others of the trade, during the last six weeks noorders have been given to English travellers, adding--and thoughtfulpeople should find this highly suggestive--"The Dublin Unionists arethe people who have the money and the education. The people who havemoney to spend are becoming excessively careful. They know not whatmay be in store, but they fear that if Home Rule becomes law they willbe ruined, and more than ninety-five per cent. Of my customers areUnionists. " Further inquiry confirmed the statement that the book-buying communityare practically Unionists to a man. The same figures hold good amongthe Irish Quakers. Ninety-five per cent. Is the proportion given to meby an eminent Friend, no stranger to Birmingham, intimately known toAlderman White and three generations of the Cadbury family. He said, "Irish Quakers are Unionists, because they are on the spot, becausethey understand the subject, because they know what will follow, because they share the dangers of the threatened revolution. What maybe the proportion of Home Rulers among the English Friends I do notknow, but probably the Gladstonians have a majority, for preciselyopposite reasons to those I have stated, that is, --they are not on thespot, do not understand the matter, are unable to see what will takeplace, and regard themselves as safe, whatever happens. " The IrishQuakers have issued a manifesto which should weigh with their Englishbrethren and with the country at large. The Quakers know their wayabout. Their piety has not blunted their perceptive faculties, has nottaken the edge off their keenness. Their reputation for shrewdness isequal to their reputation for integrity, which is saying a good deal. With them the innocence of the dove is happily combined withconsiderable wisdom of the serpent. And at least ninety-five per cent. Of the Irish Quakers are earnest Unionists. But although the deep concern of the respectable classes of the Irishcapital is calculated to fill the wandering Englishman with graveuneasiness, it is not all tragedy. The Dubliners must have their fun, and, like the Parisians, will sport with matters of heaviest import. The poorer classes treat the universal subject lightly, as beseems menwho have nothing to lose and everything to gain. The prevailing traitin their mental attitude is incredulousness. You cannot make thembelieve that the bill will pass. "We'll get Home Rule when a pair o'white wings sprouts out o' me shoulders an' I fly away like ablackbird, " said an old market woman with great emphasis; and a Dublinjackeen, piloting an American over the city, said: "This, Sorr, isCollege Green, an' that, Sorr, is Thrinity College, an' thatSorr, "--here he pointed to the grand pile opposite the College--"thatSorr, is the grate buildin' in which the Irish Parliament is _not_going to meet!" At one of the music halls an old woman (Ireland) isrepresented as buying a coffin for a deceased son named "Home Rule"Bill, when the following conversation occurs:-- "Is it an oak or an elm coffin ye want?" "Ah, thin, just a chape deal coffin, shure--wid a few archangels onthe lid. " "Will ye want any trimmings?" "Arrah, what d'ye mane by trimmin's?" "Trimmings for the coffin. " "Bad luck to yer trimmin's. What would I want wid them? Sure 'twas'trimmin's' that kilt him!" It is hoped that Saxon readers will see this subtle joke when Iexplain that "delirium" should come before "trimmin's. " Underneath the incredulity of the lower classes--and be it observedthat their incredulity is obviously based on an instinctive feelingthat the claims and arguments of their own party are alikepreposterous--underneath this vein of unbelief is a vein ofextraordinary credulity. Poverty is to be at once and for everabolished. "The millions an' millions that John Bull dhrags out iv us, to kape up his grandeur, an' to pay soldiers to grind us down, we'llput into our own pockets, av you plaze, " was the answer vouchsafed toan inquiry as to what advantages were expected from the passing of theHome Rule Bill. The speaker was a political barber. Another of thecraft said, in answer to the same query, "Well, Sorr, I think we havea right to our indipindence. Sure, we'd be as sthrong as Switzerlandor Belgium. " A small farmer from the outlying district thought thatrents would be lowered, that money would be advanced to strugglingtenants, that great public works would be instituted, and plainlyintimated that all these good things and many more had been roundlypromised by the Home Rule leaders, and that he, for one, fullybelieved that all would duly come to pass, once the Bill were carried, which happy event he never expected to see. Every man was to be a kindof king in his own country, evictions were to be utterly unknown; thepeasantry were to live rent free, under a visionary scheme of which hehad all the absurd particulars; the old sporting maxim remindingfarmers that landlord shooting begins on January 1st and ends onDecember 31st was to become obsolete by reason of a completeextinction of the species--only an odd one being occasionally dug outof the bogs along with trunks of bog-oak and skeletons of the greatIrish elk; while the family pig, which, having for ages occupied aresponsible position in the matter of "Rint, " is understood to be aninveterate landlord-hater, will be released from his delicatesituation, will be relieved from his harassing anxieties, will nolonger be sacrificed to the exigencies of the occasion; but, on thecontrary, will peacefully expire of old age, surrounded by everytribute of respect. The dirtiest of the Dubliners hold opinions as tothe marvellous results of Home Rule more adapted to their ownpositions and pursuits, but apparently on the same plane, no whithigher in the scale of intelligence. They regard the English as theirnatural enemies, and the lower you go the more truculent they become. One and all they hold the belief, industriously instilled byagitators, that the poverty of Ireland is due to the aggrandisementof England, that the bulk of Irish taxation flows into Englishcoffers, and is used for English purposes to the exclusion of Ireland, and this they have swallowed and insist upon, in defiance of commonreason and the evidence of their senses. The instinct of patriotism isnot _en évidence_. The dominant passion is cupidity, and nothinghigher; sheer greed of gain, lust of possession, and nothing nobler. Selfishness and the hope of plunder are the actuating impulses at thepoll; crass ignorance and bitter prejudice the mental disposition ofthe lower class of voters. Four hours' slumming convinced me of this, and must convince anyone. "We'll bate the English into the say, " saida resident in the sweet region yclept Summer Hill. "Whin we get thepolice in our hands an' an army of our own, we'd sweep them out o' thecounthry av we only held cabbage-shtalks. Ireland for the Irish, an'to hell wid John Bull! Thim's my sintiments. " And those are the"sintiments" of his class. I have spent days among the Irish HomeRulers without having once heard of the Union of Hearts. The phraseserves well enough to tickle the simple souls of the long-eared butshort-headed fraternity of pseudo-philosophical-philanthropists acrossthe water, but it has no currency in Ireland. Like the country folks the city slummers believe that unheard-ofadvantages would follow the great Bill, and, unconsciously parodyingSancho Panza, say in effect, "Now blessings light on him who firstinvented Home Rule! it covers a man all over, thoughts and all, like acloak; it is meat for the hungry, drink for the thirsty, heat for thecold, and cold for the hot. " The bare thought of the coming Paradiseilluminates their dirty visages. Like the lunatic, the lover, and thepoet, they are of imagination all compact, and, unlike the charactermentioned by the Bard, they "can hold a fire in their hands, Bythinking on the frosty Caucasus, And cloy the hungry edge of appetiteBy bare imagination of a feast; And wallow naked in December snow Bythinking on fantastic summer's heat. " Meanwhile, they lounge about in idleness, hugging their misery, discussing the "bating" of the Unionist party, or, as I saw themyesterday evening, listening to the crooning of an ancient femalegutter-snipe, a dun-coloured heap of decrepit wretchedness, chantingthe great future of the Irish Parliament in a picturesque andextraordinary doggerel anent the "larned reprisintatives of the Oirishna-a-tion. Promiscu-o-ous they shtand in em-u-la-a-tion. " The smallshopkeepers, once ardent Nationalists, seem to be changing theirminds. One of them confided to me the fact that he and his fellows, brought actually face to face with the possibility that the end oftheir aspirations and agitations would be attained, were beginning toask whether, after all, taxation would be remitted, whether indeed therates would not be heavier, and whether the moneyed people wouldremain in the country at all. Hearing on all sides these and similarconfessions, accompanied by urgent admonitions of secrecy, you beginto ask whether the past conduct of these enlightened voters had anymore substantial basis than a cantankerous and unreasonablediscontent, superadded to an Irishman's natural love of fighting. Theleaders of the Separatist party have made the most frantic efforts towin over the police, but apparently without much success. The Dublinconstabulary, a body of 1, 300 men, is totally separate and distinctfrom the Royal Irish Constabulary, but I have reason to believe thatthe feeling of both forces is averse to Home Rule. Said a sergeantyesterday, "John Bull may have faults, but, " and here he winkedexpressively, "but--he pays!" Then he went on--"I am a Westmeath man, a Roman Catholic, an' as good an Irishman as any of thim; an' I'd likeHome Rule if it was local self-government, what they call the gas an'wather management, or the like of that. But although I've the highestrespect for my counthry, an' for my counthrymen, I'd like to feel thatmy pay was in better hands, and--what is of more importance--mypension, afther 30 years' service. " Here was a complete lack of confidence, but my friend had more to say. He referred to the provisions of the bill, spoke of the six years'arrangement, and on this point exhibited great native shrewdness. "Howdo we know we'll be employed for six years, once the Irish leaders getmatters in their own hands? They may promise fairly enough, but theywould be subject to several influences which might prevint thim kapingtheir promise. First of all, when they had the power, they wouldnaturally like to manage things their own way--an' not to bealtogether bound down so hard an' fast by their engagement with theEnglish Parliament. Then, although they profess such friendship, theydon't altogether like us. We may tell them we are Nationalists, an'that we're runnin' over with patriotism; but they'll tell us that westood by at evictions, an' that we fired on the people atMitchelstown. But the greatest thing of all is this--all theircounthry friends, all the terrorisers, the men that mutilated thecattle, the village ruffians that for years have been doin' theirwork, an' actin' as their spies--all these will have to be providedfor. The same with our officers, but their case is still worse. Theyhave had to pass a regular military examination, which means anexpensive education. They will get the go-by an' the dirty kick-out, in order that the friends of the ruling party, who have been so longin the desert, may be furnished with posts. 'Tis human nature, Sorr. "Wherefore, the constabulary, it would seem, may be trusted to takecare of themselves, but the situation is suggestive of seriouscomplications, once the bill were passed. A full private this morningtold me that without the security of the British Exchequer the forcewould not hold together for four-and-twenty hours, a statement which, whatever be its value, is at least an indication of the amount oftrust which some of the Irish people, and those not the worstinformed, are disposed to place in the distinguished assembly which, according to the authority hereinbefore-mentioned is _not_ to meet onCollege Green. A never-ending complaint which follows you everywhere is thesupineness of the English electorate. Men whose interests areseriously threatened, such as the better class of shopkeepers, areunable to understand the comparative calmness of the British public atlarge. Passionately they ask why England leaves them to their fate, and strongly they urge that prompt and decided action should be taken, if not for the sake of Ireland, then in the interests of Englandherself. Disruption, pure and simple, the breaking up of the Empire, with panic and general ruin, are in their opinion the sure and certainconcomitants of the bill now before the House. They declare thatEnglishmen as a whole, whether Gladstonians or Unionists, fail torealise the gravity of the situation, and they lose no opportunity ofsaying whenever they hear an English accent, "WE DON'T WANT IT, WEDON'T WANT IT!" Not always do they trouble to say what is the thingthey so emphatically reject. "Pardon me, Sir, but are you English?"Receiving an affirmative the rejoinder comes at once, and forcefully, "We don't want it, we don't want it! Tell the English people that ifthey knew all they would not entertain the idea for a moment. " Thephrase meets you everywhere, is roared at you in chorus in commercialrooms, haunts you in your sleep, and, if they would own it, must bepainfully suggestive to Gladstonian visitors. But there are none soblind as those who will not see, none so deaf as those who will nothear. It is impossible to withhold sympathy with the indignation andmental anxiety of these industrious men, who have made Dublin what sheis, and whose only notion of happiness is the fulfilment of duty, their sole means of acquiring wealth or middleclass comfort, hard andhonest work. That the backbone of the city should stand with theirfortunes subject to the will of a few unscrupulous agitators isindeed, as they say, an inscrutable dispensation of Providence. Help, however, is at hand. As Hercules hangs backward in their needthey have determined to help themselves. During the Easter recess bothIreland and England will be made to ring with denunciations of HomeRule, denunciations uttered for the most part by Irishmen. Oratorswill go forth throughout the length and breadth of both islands, withthe object of laying the truth of the matter before thepeople--demonstrating the dire results which the most intelligentalmost unanimously predict. There will be no lack of funds--Catholicsand Protestants are subscribing, among the former the grandson ofDaniel O'Connell, the great Liberator of Ireland. Money is literallypouring into the offices of the Irish Unionist Alliance. Little RomanCatholic Tralee, in the heart of Kerry, one of the most disturbeddistricts, has sent several hundreds. In three weeks the subscriptionshave reached £20, 000. That ought to be enough to enable IrishUnionists not, as one said to me, "to enlighten the English people. Wedo not presume to so much. But we will try to let some of the Darknessout. " Dublin, March 28th. No. 2. --PANIC AND DISASTER. The situation is becoming hourly more serious. The over-excitedcondition of men's minds is rapidly ripening into a panic. Theimpending Second Reading is driving the respectable population ofIreland into absolute despair. The capital is inundated by men fromall parts of the kingdom anxious to know the worst, running hither andthither, asking whether, even at the eleventh hour, anything may bedone to avert the dreaded calamity. An eminent solicitor assures methat during the last four-and-twenty hours a striking change ofopinion has taken place. Red-hot Home Rulers when confronted with thelooming actuality are on all sides abandoning their loudly proclaimedpolitical opinions. My friend's business--he is, or has been, anardent Home Ruler--is chiefly connected with land conveyancing, and hedeclares that his office is besieged by people anxious to "withdrawtheir charges" on land and house property, that is, to recall theirmoney advanced on mortgage, however profitable the investment, howeverapparently solid the security. He instanced the case of an estate inCavan, bearing three mortgages of respectively £1, 000, £3, 000, and£4, 000, and leaving to the borrower a clear income of £1, 700 a yearafter all claims were paid. The three lenders are strenuouslyendeavouring to realise, the thousand-pounder being prostrate withaffright, but although the investments under normal conditions wouldfetch a good premium, not a penny can be raised in any direction. Thelenders are Home Rulers, and eighty per cent. Of the population ofCavan are Roman Catholic. The same story is heard everywhere, with "damnable iteration. " Thecause of charity is suffering severely. The building of additions tothe Rotunda Hospital and the Hospital for Consumptives, at a cost oftwenty thousand pounds, has been definitely abandoned, althoughthree-quarters of the money has been raised. The building trade is ata complete standstill. On every hand contracts are thrown up, greatworks are put aside. Mr. Kane, High Sheriff of Kildare, declines toproceed with the building of his new mansion, which was to cost manythousand pounds. Mr. John Jameson, the eminent distiller, who alsocontemplated the construction of a palatial residence, which wouldtake years to build, has dropped the idea. The project for theformation of a great Donegal Oyster-bed Company, which long bade fairto prosper, and to confer a boon on the starving peasantry of thecoast, has been cast to the winds. Among the shoals of similaroccurrences which confront you at every turn, some contain an elementalmost of humour. A Dublin architect tells a quaint story of thiskind. It may not be generally known in England that the RomanCatholics of Ireland can borrow money from John Bull for the erectionof "glebe-houses, " at 4 per cent. , repayable in 49 years. In a certainrecent case the priest thought the builder's estimate too high, and, without absolutely declining the contract, intimated that he would"wait a while. " Said the architect, "Better make up your mind beforeJune, or you may have the Irish Legislature to deal with. " Thisargument acted like magic. The good Father instantly saw its cogency, and, like every other patriotic Nationalist whose personal interest isinvolved, preferred to place himself in English hands rather than inthose of his own countrymen, and incontinently accepted the contract, begging the architect to proceed with all haste. A run on the Post Office Savings Bank threatens to clear out everypenny of Irish money, and why? Because it has dawned on the smallhoarders, the thrifty and industrious members of the lower classes, that the Post Office is to be transferred to the Irish Legislature. Afriend tells me that yesterday his Catholic cook begged for aninterview. She had money in the Post Office Savings Bank, andthereanent required advice, asking if it would be safe till to-morrow!Following up this hint, pregnant with meaning, though delivered injest, I found that the feeling of insecurity is spreading like wildfire, to the intense indignation of those patriots who have nosavings, and who are alive to the fact that under the provisions ofthe proposed Act the four millions supposed to be lying in the PostOffice Savings Bank would constitute the entire working capital, asdistinguished from current income, of the College Green Legislature. The master of a small sub-office told me that the withdrawals at hislittle place amounted to £200 per week, rising latterly to £70 perday, and that it was necessary to get money from London to meet thedemands. Concurrently with this I learn that the Dublin Savings Bank, an institution managed by merchants of the city, for the encouragementof thrift, is receiving the money so withdrawn, and this confidence isexplained by the well-known fact that the directors have publiclydeclared that on the passing of the Home Rule Bill they will pay 20s. In the pound and close the bank, in addition to which significantultimatum they have, in writing, declared to Mr. Gladstone, that thiscourse of action is due to the fact that they repudiate the securityof the proposed Irish Legislature. To put the thing in a nutshell itmay be said that not a single Irishman in or out of the country iswilling to trust the Irish Legislature with a single penny of his ownmoney. A curious feature of the Nationalist character is the profoundcontempt expressed for Nationalist M. P. 's. Englishmen are accustomedto speak of their own members, representing their own opinions, withrespect. Not so in Dublin. A rabid Nationalist said to me, "I am anIrishman to the backbone. I am a Home Ruler out-and-out. But do youthink I'd trust my property with either of the two Tims? Do you thinksuch men as Tim Harrington and Tim Healy are fit to be trusted withthe spending of 2-1/2 millions of money per annum? They have theirjob, and they work well at their job, and the Irish people have backedthem up out of pure divilment. 'Tis mighty fine to take a rise out ofJohn Bull, to harass him, to worry him, to badger him out of his sevensinses. The half of the voters never were serious, or voted as theywere told by men who expatiated on the wrongs which have been dinnedinto them from infancy. But to trust these orators with their money!Bedad, we're not all out such omadhauns (idiots) as that! Paddy is notaltogether such a fool as he looks. " Although public feeling has suddenly deepened in intensity, the changehas been for some time in progress. I am enabled to state onirrefragable authority, that Lord Houghton's sudden departure fromDublin on Sunday week was entirely due to his alarm at the shiftingaspect of affairs, which rendered instant conference with Mr. Gladstone a matter of urgent necessity. And it should be especiallynoted that this change is most apparent not in the Protestant North, not among the irreconcilable black and heretic Ulsterites, but inNationalist Dublin, in the Roman Catholic south--not simply among themoneyed classes and well-to-do shopkeepers of Dublin, but among theindustrious poor, and the small farmers of the region round about. Theopinions and feelings of the better classes have ever been deadagainst the Bill, and the best portion of the poorer people areassuredly moving in the same direction. That such is the simple factis undeniable. It is thrust upon you whether you will or no. You arecompelled to believe it, whatever your political creed. It manifestsitself in a variety of ways. Mr. Love, of Kildare, a landedproprietor, now in Dublin, says that on Sunday last Dr. Gowing, parishpriest of Kill, denounced Home Rule from the altar, and advised thepeople to have none of it. The Dubliners are beginning to publicly ridicule their Nationalistmembers. A bog-oak carving represents a typical Irishman driving a"conthrairy pig, " which is supposed to stand for Tim Harrington. Theinteresting animal is deviating from the right way, gazing fixedly at amilestone which bears the legend, "IX. Miles to College Green. " Hismaster gives him a cut of the whip and a jerk of the rope, and thusaddresses the wayward Tim, "Arrah, don't be wastin' yer larnin', radin'milestones. Ye're not goin' to Dublin--ye're goin' to BRAY!" A PhoenixPark orator who sang amusing songs finished his appeal for coppersthus, "Sure, Home Rule is a splindid thing--an iligant thing intirely, an' a blind man could see the goodness iv it wid his two eyes. Didn'tye all know Tim Harrington whin he hadn't the price iv his breakfast?Didn't ye know him whin he would dhrop on his two marrowbones and thankGod for the price of a shmell of calamity-wather" (whiskey). "An' nowlook at him! D'ye mind the iligant property he has outside Dublin? Anye'll all get the like o' that, every bosthoon among yez, av ye getHome Rule. But yez must sind _me_ to Parlimint. Sure I have iveryquollification. Wasn't I born among yez? Wasn't I rared among yez?Don't I know what yez wants? An' didn't I go many a day widout a male?Aye, that I did, an' could do it again! Sind _me_ to Parlimint, till Iget within whisperin' distance of Misther Gladstone--within whisperin'distance, d'ye mind me? Ye'll all get lashins of dhrink, an' freequarthers at the Castle. An' all ye have to do is to pay me, an' pay mewell. " Here the speaker laid his finger along his nose and broke into acomic song having reference to "the broad Atlantic, " which he chantedin a brogue almost as broad as the Atlantic itself. The better class of vacillating Nationalists are ready to give aplausible reason for the faith that is in them. You cannot catch anIrish Home Ruler napping, nor will he admit that he was ever wrong. Hewill talk to the average Englishman about Irish rights and Irishwrongs, Irish virtues and Irish abstinence from crime with a recklessdisregard for truth that can only be born of a firm belief that Irishnewspapers are never read outside Ireland, and will then walk off andplume himself on the assumption that because he met no point-blankcontradiction he has duped his victim into believing the most absurdmass of wild misinformation that was ever crammed down the throats ofthe most gullible of his rustic countrymen. It must be admitted thatthey are shrewd critics of the Bill, of which every individualcitizen, whatever his conviction, has an annotated copy in histail-pocket. The Dublin change of front is ascribed to the "insultingmanner in which the Bill is drafted. " The Nationalists, one and all, roundly declare, in terms which admit of no qualification, that thepresent bill means no less than separation, and while admitting thatthis is their dearest aspiration, declare that England will only haveherself to thank. They complain that the word "Parliament" is neverused in the Bill when referring to the Irish Legislature, but consolethemselves with the reflection that the supremacy of Parliament properis only mentioned in the preamble, which they rejoice to believe isnot part of the bill, and therefore is not binding in law. TheTreasury clauses they declare to have been drawn by a deadly enemy ofIreland, but here again they find salvation in the allegedinconsistency of the various provisions of the bill. They accept with exceeding great joy the provision which will enablethem to deprive of their property, rights, and privileges all existingCorporations whether incorporated under Royal Charter or otherwise, pointing out that this means ownership and control of the Bank ofIreland, Trinity College, and all the churches and cathedrals, whichhereafter are to be wrested from Protestant hands and devoted to thepropagandism of the Roman Catholic faith; and that the Bill confersthese powers is, they say, made clearly evident by the clause thatplaces these matters in the hands of an executive "directed by IrishAct. " By virtue of his position they have already nominated ArchbishopWalsh on this executive, with other ecclesiastics of like kidney. Thisthey admit is a good mouthful, but they scornfully assert that whileMr. Gladstone has left them income-tax to pay, he has also loaded themwith the Post Office, a Greek gift, which under the best Englishmanagement is worked at a loss of fifty thousand pounds a year! Thetwo Home Rulers who in my hearing so ruthlessly dissected the Billmade merry over the clause which excludes the Irish Government fromall control of the "foreign mails or submarine telegraphs orthrough-lines in connection therewith, " pouring on the unhappysentence whole cataracts of ridicule. "We have the thing in our hands, and we are not to control its working, " said they. "The cable betweenEngland and America passes through Ireland, will be worked by ourservants, by people who will look to us as their paymasters, and weare to have no control!" The preposterous absurdity of the notiontickled the entire company. "But if England does not please us, can wenot cut the cable? Can we not order our own paid servants to ceasetransmitting messages, or to transmit only such as have survived theinspection of the accredited officials of the Irish people?" It wasthought that this was reasonable and a possible, nay a probableconjuncture, and might be used as a weapon to damage English trade. "Let them go round or lay another cable, " said one patriot. This sort of discussion, more or less reasonable, is everywhere heard, and should be of some value in indicating the use Irishmen expect tomake of the Act. Not a single friendly syllable, not a word ofamicable fellowship with England, not a scintilla of gratitude forfavours past or to come, nothing but undisguised animosity, and afixed resolution to make every clause of the Act a battlefield. Ispeak that I do know and testify that I have seen. My personalrelations with the Irish people have been and continue to be of themost gratifying kind. In the homes of the highest, in the greatmanufactories, even in the lowest slums I have seen much that isattractive in the Irish character--much that excites warm interest, and is calculated to attach you to the people. I have conversed withscores of Home Rulers of all shades, and to the query as to whetherultimate separation is hoped for, I have received an invariableaffirmative. True it is that the answer varied in terms from the blunt"Yes" of the uncompromising man to the more or less veiled assent ofthe more cautious, but the result was in substance ever the same. Talkabout the Union of Hearts, the pacification of Ireland, the brotherlylove that is to ensue, and the Unionists turn away with undissembledimpatience, the Home Rulers with a chuckle and a sneer. As well tellreasonable Irishmen that the world is flat, or that a straight linebetween two given points is the longest, or that the sun moves roundthe moon, or any other inane absurdity contrary to the evidence ofscience and their senses. The English Gladstonians who babble aboutbrotherly love and conciliation should move about Dublin in disguise. Disguise would in their case be necessary to get at the truth, forPaddy is a shrewd trickster, and delights in humbugging this speciesof visitor, whom he calls "the slobbering Saxon. " Then if they wouldreturn and still vote for Home Rule they are no less than traitors totheir country and enemies to their fellow-country men. The weather is very fine, and the fashionable resorts are fairly wellfrequented, but trade daily grows worse. Wholesale houses, says a highauthority, are "not dull, but stone dead. " The pious Irish fast andpray during the week, and the great Roman Catholic Retreat at Milltownis crowded to the limits of its accommodation. The ladies wear a kindof half-mourning, a stylish sort of reminder of original sin. Sackcloth and ashes in Catholic Dublin consist of fetching brown, grey, or tan costumes, set off with huge bunches of fragrant violets, tied with a bow the exact shade of the flower, or a dull shade ofpurple, a sort of Lenten lugubriousness particularly becoming toblonde penitents. The ladies are indefatigable in their effortsagainst Home Rule, and one distinguished canvasser for signatures tothe Roman Catholic petition has been warned by the police, as shevalues her life, to leave Dublin for a time. The ruffian class, needless to say, has undergone no change, but still demands the bill, and this delicate lady, for years foremost in every good andcharitable work, is driven from her home by threatening letters--thataccursed resort to anonymous intimidation which so discredits theIrish claim to superior courage and chivalry. The Catholics of Dublinare signing numerously, but the number of signatories by no meansrepresents the opponents of the Bill. Englishmen cannot be brought to realise for one moment the system ofterrorism and intimidation which prevails even in the very heart ofthe capital. Parnellite spies are everywhere and know everything, andwoe to the helpless man who dares to have a mind of his own. And notonly are the poor coerced and deprived of the liberty of the subject, but the wealthiest manufacturers--men whose firms are of the greatestmagnitude--will caution you against using their names in connectionwith anything that could give a clue to their real sentiments. Thisdifficulty arises everywhere and information can only be extractedafter a promise that its source shall never be disclosed. The priestsare credited with unheard-of influence among the poor. "At the presentmoment the ruffians are held in leash. The order has gone forth thatpending the Home Rule debate they are to 'be good. ' But if I sign thatpetition, although here in Dublin, the thing would be known at Tralee, 200 miles away, before I reached home--and a hundred to one that thefirst blackguard that passed would put a match in my thatch, wouldburn my stacks, would hough or mutilate my cattle. " The speaker was aRoman Catholic farmer from Kerry. Mr. Morley, in stating that theprosecution of the Rev. Robert Eager had ceased and determined, wasutterly wrong. The rector's cousin, Mr. W. J. Eager, also of Tralee, told me that threatening letters with coffins and cross-bones werestill pouring in in profusion. Mr. Eager was calmly requested to giveup land which he had held for 15 years to a man who had previouslyrented it, and as the good parson failed to see the force of thisargument he is threatened with a violent death. In England such athing could only happen in a pantomime, but some of the Irish think itthe quintessence of reasonable action. These are the class thatsupport the Bill; these are the men Mr. Gladstone and hisconglomeration of cranks and faddists hope to satisfy. A brilliantkind of prospect for poor John Bull. Mr. John Morley should accompany me in my peregrinations among theintelligent voters who have placed him and his great chief in power, along with the galaxy of minor stars which rise with the Grand Man'srising and set at his setting. "The British Government won't allow usto work the gold mines in the Wicklow mountains. Whin we get the Billevery man can take a shpade, an' begorra! can dig what he wants. " "ThePhaynix Park is all cramfull o' coal that the Castle folks won't allowus to dig, bad scran to them. Whin we get the Bill wu'll sink thimmines an' send the Castle to Blazes. " But the quaintest, the funniest, the most sweetly ingenuous of the lot was the reason given by agentleman of patriarchal age and powerful odour, whom I encountered inHamilton's Lane. He said, "Ye see, Sorr, this is the way iv it. 'Tisthe Americans we'll look to, by raison that they're mostly our ownfolks. They're powerful big invintors, but bedad, they haven't thewather power to work the invintions. Now _we_ have the wather power, an' the invintions 'll be brought over here to be worked. An' that'llgive the poor folks imploymint. " The poor man's ignorance was doubtless dense, his credulity amusing, his childlike simplicity interesting. But the darkness of hisignorance was no blacker, the extent of his credulity no more amazing, than the ignorance and credulity of English Gladstonian speakers, who, with a Primitive Methodist accent and a Salvation Army voice, proclaim, with a Bible twang, their conviction that Home Rule meansthe friendship of Ireland. Dublin, March 30th. No. 3. --ULSTER'S PREPARATIONS FOR WAR. Ulster will fight, and fight to the death. The people have taken aresolution--deep, stern, and irrevocable. Outwardly they do not seemso troubled as the Dubliners. They are quiet in their movements, moderate in their speech. They show no kind of alarm, for they knowtheir own strength, and are fully prepared for the worst. They speakand act like men whose minds are made up, who will use everyConstitutional means of maintaining their freedom, and, these failing, will take the matter in their own strong hands. Meanwhile theypreserve external calm, and systematically make their arrangements. Ifever they went through a talking stage, that is now over. They havepassed the time of discussion, and are preparing for action. If everthey showed heat, that period also is past. They have reached the coldstage, in which men act on ascertained principles and not in thefrenzy of passion. There is nothing hysterical about the Belfast men. They are by no means the kind of people who run hither and thitherwringing their hands. Neither are they men who will sit down underoppression. And oppression is what they expect from a DublinGovernment. Mr. Gladstone and his tribe may pooh-pooh this notion, butthe feeling in Ulster is strong and immovable. The tens of thousandsof Protestants thickly scattered over other provinces feel morestrongly still; as well they may, for they have not the numbers, theorganisation, the unity which is strength, that characterise theprovince of Ulster. They hold that Home Rule is at the bottom areligious movement, that by circuitous methods, and subterraneanstrategy, the religious re-conquest of the island is sought; that theignorant peasantry, composing the large majority of the electorate, are entirely in the hands of the priests, and that these black swarmsof Papists have a congenital hatred of England, which must bring aboutseparation. These are the opinions of thousands of eminent men whoseability is beyond argument, who have lived all their lives on thespot, who from childhood have had innumerable facilities for knowingthe truth, whose interests are bound up with the prosperity ofIreland, and who, on every ground, are admittedly the best judges. Said Mr. Albert Quill, the Dublin barrister:-- "Mr. Gladstone, who in eighty-four years has spent a week in Ireland, puts aside Sir Edward Harland, who has built a fleet of great ships inan Irish port, and sneers at the opinion of the Belfast deputation whohave lived all their lives in Ireland. " A Roman Catholic Unionist, aneminent physician, said to me:-- "I fear that Catholicism would ultimately lose by the change, althoughat first it would undoubtedly obtain a strong ascendant. The bulk ofthe Irish Catholics have a deep animosity to the English people, whomthey regard as heretics, and the Protestants of Ireland would inself-defence be compelled to band themselves together, for underneaththe specious surface of the Home Rule movement are the teeth and clawsof the tiger. Persecution would follow separation, which is inevitableif the present bill be carried. A Dublin Parliament would make aProtestant's life a burden. This would react in time, and Catholicismwould suffer in the long run. And for this reason, amongst others, Iam against Home Rule. " But what are the Belfast men doing? _Imprimis_ they are working inwhat may be called the regular English methods. Unionist clubs arespringing up in all directions. The Earl of Ranfurly opened three inone evening, and others spring up almost every day. The UlsterAnti-Repeal and Loyalist Association will during the month of Aprilhold over three hundred meetings in England, all manned by competentspeakers. The Irish Unionist Association and the ConservativeAssociation are likewise doing excellent work, which is patent toeverybody. But other associations which do not need public offices areflourishing like green bay trees, and their work is eminentlysuggestive. By virtue of an all-powerful introduction, I yesterdayvisited what may be called the Ulster war department, and there sawregular preparation for an open campaign, the preliminaries for whichare under eminently able superintendence. The tables are covered withdocuments connected with the sale and purchase of rifles and munitionsof war. One of them sets forth the particulars of a German offer of245, 000 Mauser rifles, the arm last discarded by the PrussianGovernment, with 50, 000, 000 cartridges. As the first 150, 000 Mauserswere manufactured by the National Arms and Ammunition Company, Sparkbrook, Birmingham, it may be interesting to record that thequoted price was 16s. Each, the cartridges being thrown in fornothing. Another offer referred to 149, 000 stand of arms, with30, 000, 000 cartridges. A third document, the aspect of which to anative of Brum was like rivers of water in a thirsty land, was said tohave been summarily set aside by reason of the comparative antiquityof the excellent weapon offered, notwithstanding the tempting lownessof the quoted price. A novel and unexpected accession of information was the revelation ofa deep and sincere sympathy among the working men of England, who, with gentlemen of position and rifle volunteers by hundreds andthousands, are offering their services in the field, should civil warensue. The letters were shown to me, all carefully filed, andsufficient liberty was permitted to enable me to be satisfied as tothe tenour of their contents. Among the more important was a shortnote from a distinguished personage, offering a contribution of £500, with his guarantee of a force of two hundred men. This also was fromEngland, a fact which the scoffers at Ulster will do well to read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest. The guarantee fund for the firstcampaign now amounts to nearly a million and a half, which the bestfinancial authority of Belfast tells me is "as good as the Bank ofEngland. " What the Dublin police-sergeant said of John Bull may alsobe said of the Ulsterman--"He may have faults, but--he Pays!" Fundsfor current purposes are readily forthcoming, £50, 000 being already inhand, while promises of a whole year's income seem thick as autumnalleaves in Vallombrosa. No means is left untried, no stone is leftunturned to render abortive what the dry and caustic Northerners callthe Home Ruin Bill, or the Bill for the _Bitter_ Government ofIreland. Moving hourly among people accurately and minutely acquainted with thelocal position, you cannot fail to be struck by the marvellousunanimity with which all Irish Unionists predict the exact result ofsuch a bill as constitutes the present bone of contention, and theirprecise agreement as to concerted action should the crisis arise. Theyridicule the English notion that they intend to take the field atonce. Nothing of the kind. They will await the imposition of taxes bya Dublin Parliament, and will steadfastly refuse to pay. The moneymust then be collected by force of arms, that is, by the Royal IrishConstabulary, who will be met by men who under their very noses arenow becoming expert in battalion drill, having mastered company drill, with manual and firing exercise; and whose numbers--I love to beparticular--amount to the respectable total of one hundred andsixty-four thousand six hundred and fourteen, all duly enrolled andpledged to act together anywhere and at any time, most of them alreadywell armed, and the remainder about to be furnished with splendid andeffective weapons, which before this appears in print will have beenlanded from a specially chartered steamer, and instantly distributedfrom a spot I am forbidden to indicate, by an organisation speciallycreated for the purpose. All these particulars--and more--were furnished by gentlemen of highposition and unimpeachable integrity, whose statements, of themselvessufficient, were abundantly confirmed by the exhibition underrestrictive pledges, of undeniable documentary proofs, with partialbut satisfactory glimpses of the work actually in hand. No vapouringhere, no breathless haste, not a suspicion of excitement. Nothing buta cold, emotionless, methodical, business-like precision, awell-considered series of commercial transactions, conducted by menspecially acquainted with the articles required and regularly trainedto office routine. English Home Rulers, unable to see a yard in frontof them, whose training and instincts are of the goody-goody, milk andwater type, --the lily-livered weaklings, who measure the courage ofothers by their own, --may be excused their inability to conceive thesituation. They cannot understand the dour, unyielding spirit of theUlsterman in a matter which affects his property, his religion, hisfreedom. A party backboneless as the Globerigina ooze, and, like thatsub-Atlantic production, only held together by its own sliminess, mustever fail to realise the grit which means resistance, sacrifice, endurance; cannot grasp the outlines of the Ulster character andspirit, which resemble those which actuated the Scottish Covenanters, the Puritan army of Cromwell, or even--and this illustration should beespecially grateful to Gladstonians--the Dutch Boers of the Transvaal. But although the surface is placid the depths are turbulent. If Dublinis simmering, Belfast is boiling. The breed is different. TheNortherner is not demonstrative, is slow to anger, but being moved isnot easily appeased. The typical Irishman, with his cutaway coat, hispipe stuck in his conical caubeen, his "sprig of shillelagh, " orbludgeon the Donnybrook Fair hero who "shpinds half a-crown, Mates wida frind An' (for love) knocks him down" is totally unknown in theseregions. The men who by their ability and industry have lifted Irelandout of the slough, given her prosperity and comparative affluence, marched hand in hand with the English people, have only seen, withwonder, the rollicking Kelt, devoid of care, forethought, andresponsibility, during their trips to the South and West--or whereverHome Rulers most do congregate. Strange it is, but perfectly true, that in most cases an Irishman's politics may be determined by outwardand visible signs, so plain that he who runs may read. In Dundalk, which should be a thriving port, you see in and around the town longrows of low thatch-covered cabins, with putrid dunghills"convaynient, " dirty, half-fed, barefooted children, and--magnificentCatholic churches. Home Rule rules the roost. As you move northwards, the symptoms of poverty gradually disappear. Scarva, the annualmeeting ground of 5, 000 to 10, 000 Orangemen, who on July 13, the dayafter the anniversary of the battle of the Boyne, fight the battleo'er again, with a King William and a King James, mounted respectivelyon their regulation white and bay chargers--Scarva is neat, clean andcivilised. Bessbrook, the Quaker colony, is, as might be expected, amodel community. Lurgan is well built, smart, trim, and delightful, awealthy manufacturing place with the general aspect of Leamington. Asthe train steamed into the station an American traveller took ageneral survey of the district, and said to the general company-- "I reckon this is a Unionist place. " A fierce-looking man from Dundalk admitted the soft impeachment. "Thought so. Can spot a Home Rule town far off as I can see it. Mudhuts, whitewashed cabins with no upstairs, muck-heaps, and bad fences. Can spot a Home Ruler as far as I can see him. Darned if I couldn'ttrack him by scent, like a foxhound. That's the rank and file--veryrank, I should say, most of them. And old J. Bull concludes to let thedunghill folks, powerful lazy beggars they seem, come top-sawyer overthe fellows that built a place like this, eh?" The Newry man, taking off his hat, revealing a head of hair like adisorderly halo, took from the lining a little paper which called uponthe Irish peasantry to remember their wrongs, referred to the timewhen Englishmen could murder Irishmen with impunity, stated that thething had often been done, and called upon every male from fifteen tofifty to enrol himself in the Irish Independent Army--referring to theProtestants as "a cruel and bloody minority. " The Yankee returned thebill contemptuously. "You think this a question of counting noses. Now, I'm a sympathiserof Home Rule, but if I was J. B. It would be different. I'm hanged if Iwould not stick to my clean, clever, faithful friends, though theywere outnumbered by twenty to one. An' I'm a Republican, mind ye that. Ye might ask me to put the muck-heap men at the head of affairs--yemight ask till doomsday, but ye'd never get it. An' any man's a foolthat would do it. " A placard announcing the formation of an Irish Army of Independence, and calling on the people to enrol themselves, has been extensivelycirculated, and it is said that the Roman Catholics, like theProtestants, are industriously drilling, north, south, east and west. I am careful to use the term Protestants, as the force available isdrawn from the general body of Nonconformists. Orangemen are membersof the Church of Ireland, and have always been regarded asConservative. On the contrary, Presbyterians and Methodists areconsidered to be advanced Liberals, and herein lies a popular Englishfallacy--Gladstonians often refer to the Orange agitation against thedisestablishment of the Irish Church, which they would fain comparewith the present opposition to Home Rule, forgetting or ignoring thefact that the strength of Ulster resides in the Nonconformist bodies, and that these were all in favour of disestablishment, leaving theOrangemen in a hopeless minority. Now, however, the Nonconformistshave joined their forces with those of the Orange bodies, whichcreates a very different aspect of affairs. The English Home Rulerssay the opposition will end in smoke. It is said that the most insaneare sometimes wiser than they dream, just as liars sometimes speaktruth by accident. The movement will end in smoke, but it will be thesmoke of battle. Every man who supports the Home Rule Bill incurs thestigma of blood-guiltiness. The bill that succeeds Home Rule will bethe Butchers' Bill. No doubt Mr. Gladstone will explain away the"painful occurrences which we all deplore, " and will endeavour totransfer the blame to other shoulders. His talent for explanation isunapproachable, but unhappily he cannot explain the slain to lifeagain. In a former letter I pointed out how cleverly the Nationalists dissectthe bill, how they point out that its proposals are insulting toIreland, how they prove that its provisions are inconsistent andunworkable, how they propose to discount the trumpery restrictions andthe gimcrack "safeguards" of the proposed measure, how in short, theytear the bill to rags, laugh its powers to scorn, and hold its authorsin high derision. The Belfast men do not discuss the bill, do notexamine it clause by clause, do not quibble over the purport of thisor the probable effect of that, do not ask how the customs are to becollected, or who is to pay for this, that, or the other. They descendto no details, enter into no particulars, point out no minorfallacies, argue no questions of the ultimate effect of any onesection of the bill. They reject the measure as a whole. The principleis bad, radically rotten, and cannot be amended. With the Home Rulersthey agree that the bill means Separation, and therefore they put itaway _en bloc_. They will have no part with the unclean thing, butcast it to the winds, bundle it out neck and crop, kick it downstairs, treat it with immeasurable contempt. They are well versed in the broadprinciples of Constitutional law, as it at present exists; will tellyou that the Irish Constabulary is the only force that can be broughtagainst them for the collection of the taxes, which they willabsolutely refuse; declare that the military can only be used againstthem for this purpose by Act of Parliament; cite the preamble of theArmy Bill, which shows that there is no standing army, but only aforce renewed in its functions from year to year; show that themonarch has ceased to be generalissimo of the British troops sincesuch a year, refer to the sad case of Charles I. , who would fain havecollected Ship-money from a certain John Hampden, and endeavoured touse the English army for this laudable purpose, meeting a fate at oncehorrible and instructive. Then comes the application. Similar causes, say they, will bring about similar effects, and if the quality andtemper of the people be considered their arguments seem reasonable. The Irish army of Independence is already a subject of mockery. "Tenof our men would make a hundred of them run like hares. On the 27thult. A party of Orangemen were fired upon near Stewartstown, andalthough unarmed they stormed the hill whence came the shots, whilethe heroic riflemen who had fired 14 bullets, luckily without effect, showed that if too cowardly to fight, they were not too lazy to run. "This occurrence, of which I had the description from authority, wouldhave excited some attention in England, but here it is lightly passedover as nothing exceptional. "We are holding back our men. The otherparty are egging us on to outbreak, in the hope that our cause will bediscredited, and that Lord Salisbury's visit in May might behindered. " There is a mutual repugnance between the two peoples, butthe character of the repulsion is different. The Roman Catholicsmanifest an unmistakable hatred--the term is no whit too strong--ahatred of the social and intellectual superiority of theirfellow-countrymen, who in turn look upon the Catholics (as a whole)with mistrust, mingled with contempt. As well ask Brother Jonathan tosubmit to the rule of the negro, as well ask the London trader to puthis interests in the hands of a Seven Dials' syndicate, as well askMr. Gladstone and his followers to listen to reason or to talk commonsense, as to expect the powerful and influential Protestants ofBelfast and Ulster generally to entrust their future to a Legislatureelected by the most illiterate electorate in the three kingdoms, andunder the thumb of the priests--who wield a despotic power whichpeople in England cannot be made to understand. A short time ago theDublin Freemasons held a bazaar in aid of a charity whose object wasthe complete care of orphan children. The Catholic Archbishopimmediately fulminated a decree that whosoever patronised the showwould incur the terrors of the church, which means that they wouldperish everlastingly. Some poor folks, servant girls and porters andthe like, who were sent by their mistresses or called by their honestavocations, dared to enter the accursed precincts, and emerging alive, rushed to confession, that the leprosy of Masonic charity might bewashed from their souls by absolution. Absolution was refused. The wretched outcasts were referred to theBishop, who in this dire emergency had sole power to unlock the gatesof heaven. Do English people know what an Irish Catholic feels whenrefused absolution? I trow not, and that therefore they cannot justlyestimate the power of the priests. Another illustration. A friend ofmine made some purchases and sent a man for them, one of five hundredCatholics in his employ. The poor fellow halted two hundred yards fromthe contaminating circle, and by the aid of a policeman, got theparcel brought to him--without risking his immortal soul. The bazaar realised twenty-two thousand pounds. The Ireland of the harp and vesper bell, free from the dominion ofEngland, having the prestige of an independent Catholic State, theIreland of excommunication by bell, book, and candle, the Ireland ofthe priest and Pope--that, and no other, according to Ulstermen, isthe ultimate end of Home Rule. They will have none of it, theirdetermination is announced, and they will stand by what they say. Fromwhat I have seen and heard I am convinced that Ulster means business, and also has the power to win. The Irish Unionists are worthyco-partners in the great fight, and Englishmen should stand with themshoulder to shoulder. But with or without English aid, Ulster may betrusted to hold its own. Belfast, April 1st. No. 4. --MR. BALFOUR'S WELCOME. Arriving in the northern capital from Dublin you are apt to experiencea kind of chill, akin to that felt by the boy of easy-going parentswho, visiting the house of a staid and sober uncle, said to his littlecousins, "At home we can fight with pillows, and let off crackers inthe kitchen, and ride on the poker and tongs across the dining-roomtables, and shy oranges at the chimney ornaments, and cut the sofasand pull out the stuffing, but here we get no fun at all!" Theeffervescence of the sunny south is conspicuous by its absence, and beit observed that the political south and the geographical south ofIreland are entirely different, the Ulstermen invariably using theterm to denote an imaginary line across the country just aboveDundalk. The mention of this town reminds me of a Cork commercialtraveller's description of the Dundalk festivities in connection withthe visit of our famous citizen, Mr. Egan, on the occasion of hisrelease--"There was a murtherin' big crowd o' the greatest ruffians yeever clapped your two eyes on. Some o' them had long sticks with alump o' tow on the end, steeped in petroleum or something equallyinflammable, an' whin they got the word to march--the hero was in abrake--they lit up and walked away in procession without looking athim at all, or taking any notice of him, which was moighty strange, Ithought. They went on an' on, a lot o' rapscallions ye wouldn't liketo meet in a lonely lane, and whin the brake stopped, for some reasonor other, the whole o' them were unconscious of it, an' marched onwithout the grate man, leaving him an' his brake alone. I had thecuriosity to go to the meetin'. There were two factions in the town, an' only one of them was riprisinted, the others stood aloof. They areat daggers drawn, flyin' at each other's throat, although Catholicsand Home Rulers, an' this meetin' was the funniest thing at all! Thechairman was a common fellow that made money some way, an' ye may sayhe liked to hear himself spake. An' be the powdhers o' war, he had theconvaniences for speech-makin', for he had a jaw like a bulldog, an' amouth on him ye couldn't span with your two hands. " Furtherdescription proceeded in the same strain, and even allowing for theexuberancies of my friend's southern imagination, and his wide commandof figurative language, this account of the kind of people whoconstitute ninety-nine hundredths of Mr. Gladstone's allies shouldgive Home Rulers pause. There is no lack of enthusiasm here, but the people mind their work, and do not bubble over every five minutes. They certainly showedwarmth on Monday morning, and never was popular ruler, victoriousgeneral, or famous statesman welcomed with more spontaneous burst ofpopular acclaim. York Street was literally full of all classes ofpeople, save and except the typical Irish poor. Of the tens ofthousands who filled Royal Avenue, Donegal Place, and the broad roadto the North Counties Railway, I saw none poorly clad. All were welldressed, orderly, respectable, and wonderfully good-humoured, besidesbeing the tallest and best-grown people I have ever seen in a fairlyextensive European experience. I was admitted to the station with alittle knot, comprising the Marquess of Ormonde, Lord Londonderry, thegigantic Dr. Kane, head of the Ulster Orangemen, and ColonelSaunderson, full as ever of fun and fight. It was at first intended tokeep the people outside, and a strong detachment of police guarded thegreat gates, but in vain. They were swept away by mere pressure, andthe people occupied the place to the number of many thousands, mostlywearing primroses. As the train steamed in there was a tremendous rushand cheering--genuine British cheering, such as that with whichBirmingham used on great occasions to greet John Bright--renderingalmost inaudible the numerous explosions of fog-signals which perhapsby way of salute had been placed at the entrance to the station. Therewas a mocking shout of "Dynamite, " followed by a roar of laughter, anddespite the frantic efforts of the railway men, who humanely struggledto avoid the seemingly impending sacrifices _à la_ Juggernaut, themore active members of the crowd storming the train, instantly sprangaloft and manned the tops of the carriages with a solid mass ofvociferating humanity. Soon Mr. Balfour's face appeared, and a momentafter he was standing amidst the throng, swayed hither and thither byloyalists who shook his hands, patted him on the back, deafened himwith their cheers. Out came the horses, dashing through the people, snorting and plunging like so many Gladstonians, but happily injuringno one. In went the men, Mr. Balfour laughing merrily, and lookinguncommonly fit, lifting his soft brown hat in mute recognition of themagnificent welcome accorded by men who are perhaps among the mostcompetent judges of his merit as a benefactor of Ireland. Away wentthe carriage, amid tumultuous shouting of "No Home Rule, " and "Godsave the Queen. " This went on for miles, from the Northern Counties'Terminus to Victoria Street, when Lord Londonderry signalled toquicken the pace, and after a short speech at the Albert Memorial, the_cortége_ disappeared over the bridge, and I returned to meet theEnglish working men who arrived an hour later. Splendid it was to hearthe six hundred miners from Newcastle-on-Tyne shouting "Old Irelandfor ever!" while the generous Irishmen responded with "Rule Britannia"and cheers for Old England. Cheers for Belfast and Newcastlealternated with such stentorian vigour, each side shouting for theother, that you might have been excused for imagining that the Unionof Hearts was an accomplished fact, and that brotherly love had begunand must ever continue. Said a miner, "We're all surprised to see thatthe people here are just like Englishmen. An' I'm blest if they aren'tmore loyal than the English themselves. " From Monday morning the city has been resounding with beat of drum andthe shrill sounds of the fife. The houses are swathed in bunting, andthe public buildings were already covered with banners when I arrivedon Friday last. This, however is not characteristic Belfast form. TheBelfasters _can_ rejoice, and whatever they do, is thoroughly done, but work is their vocation, as befits their grave and sober mood. Theyare great at figures, and by them they try to show that they, and notthe Dubliners, should be first considered. They are practical, andalthough not without sentiment, avoid all useless manifestation ofmere feeling. They are mainly utilitarian, and prefer mathematicalproof, on which they themselves propose to rely, in proving theircase. Here is an instance. A Belfast accountant, who is also a publicofficer, has collected a number of comparative figures on which hebases the claims of Belfast to prior consideration. The figures arecertainly exact, and are submitted as evidence of the superiorbusiness management, and larger, keener capacity of Protestant Belfastas compared with those of Catholic Dublin. Beginning with thefunctions of the Dublin Lord Mayor, secretary, and so forth, whichcost £4, 967 a year, it is shown that the same work in Belfast--whichis rather larger than Dublin--costs only £176. Let us tabulate a fewrepresentative cases:-- Dublin. Belfast. Mayor, &c. £4, 967 £176Town Clerk, secretaries of committees, law agents 5, 659 2, 752Treasurer, accountants, stock registrar 3, 402 2, 168Fire Brigade, salaries and lighting 3, 616 1, 247Coroners, sanitary officials 3, 530 1, 310Wages of sanitary staff 2, 233 1, 130Surveyors (borough & waterworks) and Secretaries 6, 070 4, 472Clerks of Peace and Revision Officers 2, 451 1, 552 ------ ------ Totals £31, 928 £14, 807 This discrepancy is everywhere observable. The Dublin GasManagement costs £14, 850 against £8, 060 in Belfast, with theresult that the Ulster City Gasworks yielded in 1891 a profit of£27, 105, charging 2s. 9d. , while the Dubliners charge 3s. 6d. Andmake no profit at all. The Belfast markets yield a profit of about£3, 500, while on the Dublin markets and abattoir there was adeficit of £3, 012 to be made good by the ratepayers. Dublin, withproperty amounting to £20, 000 a year and old-established Royalbounties, owes nearly twice as much as Belfast, which latter cityspends more on what may be called the advance of civilisation. In 1892 Belfast spent £8, 000 on a public park--Governmentproviding for this matter in Dublin--£5, 686 on public libraries, and £4, 100 on baths and workhouses, against £1, 217 and £1, 627for like purposes in Dublin. "Therefore, " say the Belfast men, "we will not have our affairs managed by these incompetent men, who, besides their demonstrated incapacity to deal with finance, aredependent for their position on the illiterates of the agriculturaldistricts, who are to a man under the thumb of the priests, and who, moreover, have shown that their rapacity is equal to their lack ofintegrity, and whose leading doctrine is the repudiation of lawfulcontracts, " a point on which commercial Ulster is excessively severe. One thing is certain--Ulster will never pay taxes levied by an IrishLegislature in which Ulster would be utterly swamped. All classesare of this opinion, from the Earl of Ranfurly, who during a longinterview repeatedly expressed his conviction that the passing ofany Home Rule Bill would be fraught with most lamentable results, to the humble trimmer of a suburban hedge who, having admittedthat he was from the county Roscommon, and (therefore) a CatholicHome Ruler, claimed to know the Ulster temper in virtue of 28years' residence in or near Belfast, and said-- "What they say they mane, an' the divil himself wouldn't tur-r-n thim. Ah, but they're a har-r-d-timpered breed, ivery mother's son o' them. Ye can comether (gammon) a Roscommon man, but a Bilfast man, whillaloo!" He stopped in sheer despair of finding words to expressthe futility of attempting to take in a Belfast man. "An' whin ye axthim for taxes, an' they say they won't pay--ye might jist as wellwhistle jigs to a milestone! 'Tis thrue what I tell ye. " As for to-day, the magnificence of the pageant beggars description. Whether regarded from a scenic point of view or with respect tonumbers and enthusiasm, never since Belfast was Belfast has the citylooked upon a sight approaching it. From early morning brass bands andfife bands commenced to enter the city from every point of thecompass, and wherever you turned the air resounded with the inspiringrattle of the drum. Monday's display of bunting was sufficientlylavish to suggest the impossibility of exhibiting any more, but theBelfasters accomplished the feat, and the bright sunshine on thebrilliant colours of the myriad banners was strongly reminiscent ofParis _en fête_ under the Empire. The Belfast streets are long, straight, and wide, and mostly intersect at right angles. Much of theconcourse was thus visible from any moderate coign of vantage, andfrom the Grand Stand in Donegal Place the sight was truly wonderful. The vast space, right, left, and front, was from 10 o'clock closelypacked with a mighty multitude that no man could number, andlocomotion became every moment so painful as to threaten totalstagnation. The crowd was eminently respectable and perfectly orderly, and submitted to the passage of innumerable musical organisations withcharming good humour. Never have I seen or heard of such an assemblageof bands, all uniformed, all preceded by gorgeous banners bearing allkinds of loyal and party mottoes, all marching in splendid militaryfashion, and of themselves numerous enough to furnish a veryconsiderable demonstration. Many of the tunes were of a decidedlymartial character, and strange to English ears, such as the "BoyneWater, " the "Orange Lily" and the "Protestant Boys, " the last being aversion of the "Lillibulero" so often mentioned by Scott. All thesetunes, more or less distasteful to Nationalists, were interspersedwith others less debatable, such as "Rule Britannia, " "The Old Folksat Home, " "The Last Rose of Summer, " "God Save the Queen, " and "Seethe Conquering Hero comes, " which last generally accompanied theportrait of Orange William, the "Glorious, Pious, and Immortal, "mounted on his famous white charger, which noble animal is depicted inthe attitude erroneously believed to be peculiar to that of Bonapartewhen crossing the Alps. The Earl of Beaconsfield was also to the forewith primroses galore; indeed, the favourite flower was invariablyworn by the ladies, who were greatly in evidence. "Our God, ourCountry, and our Empire" was the motto over Mr. Balfour, with a huge"Welcome" in white on scarlet ground, the whole surrounded by immenseUnion Jacks. The familiar red, white, and blue bore the brunt of thedecorative responsibilities, although here and there the green flag ofIreland hung cheek by jowl with the English standard, emphasising thefriendliness of the present Union. As time went on the crowd becamemore and more dense, and a breathless pressman, who reached his postat twelve o'clock, stated that the seething myriads of Donegal Placeand the adjacent streets were "hardly a circumstance" to what he hadseen in the York Road, where the people awaited the hero of the hour. Things were getting serious at 12. 15, and then it was that the activemembers of the crowd swarmed on the railings, balancing themselves inmost uncomfortable situations, and maintaining their spiky seats witha tenacious martyrdom which spoke volumes for the determination of theUlster character. On and ever on went the bands in seemingly endless procession, although merely assembling for the great march past, and thereforeonly a fraction of the impending multitude. Some enterprising menclimbed the trees bordering the square, driving away the little flocksof sparrows which till then had conducted a noisy committee meetingin the branches, heedless of the drumming and general uproar, butwhich now dispersed without so much as a vote of thanks to the chair. At 12. 30 a foam of white faces broke over the roofs of the loftybuildings around, protected by stone balustrades. At the same moment ashout of "They are coming" was heard, followed fey a thunderous roarof cheering. Mr. Balfour slowly emerged from York Road, amid immenseacclamation, his carriage, piloted by the Corporation, moving inch byinch through the solid mass with inconceivable difficulty. Over andover again the line of vehicles stopped dead, and it was clear thatthe horses had much trouble to maintain their gravity. As the carriagewith Sir Daniel Dixon (the Lord Mayor of Belfast), Sir Samuel Black(Town Clerk), and Lord Londonderry neared the Grand Stand, thepressmen agreed that nothing equal to this demonstration had everbefore been held within the British Islands. Mr. Balfour having gainedthe platform the procession proper commenced, headed by the banner ofthe Belfast Harbour Commissioners, while the people broke into achorus, asserting that Britons never, never shall be slaves. This at 12. 35 precisely. Next came the Belfast Water Commissioners, the Belfast Board of Guardians, the provincial Corporate bodies, andthe provincial Boards of Guardians. A tremendous tumult of voicesaccompanied all these, but when the Trinity College graduates arrivedthe din became overpowering. Their standard was halted opposite Mr. Balfour, and the young fellows burst into wild and uncontrollableenthusiasm. The medical students of Queen's College, Belfast, with the_alumni_ of the Methodist and Presbyterian College succeeding, gave"God Save the Queen" with great vigour, and came in a close second;but nothing quite touched the Trinity College men. The ScottishUnionist clubs, a fine body, two thousand strong, confirmed thestatement that Scots who understand the situation are against HomeRule. Most of these men work in the shipbuilding yards of Belfast. TheBelfast Unionist Clubs and the Provincial Unionist Clubs were, ofcourse, heartily greeted, returning the applause with interest, andthe Independent Order of Rechabites showed that their allegedexclusive partiality for cold water had not diminished their lungpower. The British Order of Ancient Free Gardeners, the Loyal Order ofAncient Shepherds, and the Independent Order of Oddfellows remindedthe Brutal Saxon who might be present of his native shore, the menbeing of the familiar sturdy type, marching in dense columns, allgloriously arrayed. There was none of the artful spreading over theground which I observed in the great Birmingham demonstration whichwas to "end or mend" the Lords; and another point of divergencyconsists in the fact that the Belfast demonstration, which wasincomparably larger, was perfectly spontaneous, and not due toorganisation. Baronets and other gentlemen of distinction headed the Unionist clubs, walking through the streets in such manner as was never known before. Magistrates and Presbyterian ministers tramped with the rank and file. Sir William Ewart, Bart. , Mr. Thomas Sinclair, J. P. --a great name inthe city--and the Rev. Dr. Lynd were especially prominent. Some of theteetotallers wore white sashes, which were perhaps more conspicuousthan the gaudy colours affected by the Orangemen, and one body ofUnionists from the suburban clubs waved white handkerchiefs, a featurewhich for obvious reasons can never occur in Nationalist processions. The Shepherds have a pastoral dress, each man carrying a crook, andthe marshals of the lodges bore long halberds. The van of each columnwas preceded by a stout fellow, who dexterously raising a long staffin a twirling fashion peculiar to Ireland, shouted, "Faugh-a-Ballagh, "which being interpreted signifies "Clear the way. " The Oddfellowsmarched to the tune known in England as "We won't go home tillmorning, " which is the same as "Marlborough goes to war, " thefavourite air of the Great Napoleon. All this time Mr. Balfour isstanding at my elbow as I write, bareheaded, acknowledging the finestreception ever accorded to any man in Ireland, not excepting DanO'Connell and Parnell. The funeral of the uncrowned king was acomparatively small affair, while the respectability of the crowd wasof course immeasurably below that of the Belfast concourse. An old mansomehow got near the platform and presented Mr. Balfour with a bunchof orange lilies, saying that was the flower the people would fightunder. The Young Men's Christian Association cheered lustily for theUnion to the tune of three thousand strong. The Central PresbyterianAssociation marched past singing "God is our refuge and our strength, "and the Church of Ireland Young Men's Society, headed by the clergy, superintended by the Bishop of the diocese from the stand, made abrave and gallant show. Hour after hour glides by, and still theteeming multitude moves on, and still Mr. Balfour stands uncovered. Nojoke to be a hero nowadays. The "Young Irelands" gave a grand cheer, and passed in brave array, singing with the Y. M. C. A. "Hold the Fort"and "God Save the Queen. " Dr. Kane, the Bishop of Clogher, CaptainSomerset Maxwell, Colonel Saunderson, and the Earl of Erne, GrandMaster of the Orangemen of Ireland, received a stupendous reception asthey followed the Young Men Christians, mustered in overwhelmingforce. The "Marseillaise" here broke out with considerable severity, and Mr. Balfour broke out into a broad smile, which ran over into alaugh, as the too familiar strains of "Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay" made thewelkin ring. Then came "The March of the Men of Harlech, " mixed with"Home Sweet Home" and "The Boyne Water, " till the senses reeled again. At 3. 35 the two miles of Orangemen seemed likely to go on for ever, and Mr. Balfour said to me, "I think this demonstration undoubtedlythe greatest ever seen, and if you like you may convey that as mymessage to the Unionists of Birmingham. They will know what the effectof this will be. I need say no more. " I asked Mr. Balfour if hethought the bill would pass, and he replied, "Tell the Birmingham menwhat I have said already. They will require no more. " At 4. 10 theprocession was in full swing, but Mr. Balfour seemed to have had aboutenough and showed symptoms of making a move, and, as a preliminary, put on his hat. This was the signal for cheering, which perhapssurpassed anything that had gone before. The great ex-Irish-Secretaryeffaced himself; and Colonel Saunderson, backed by Lord Salisbury'sson and several Irish peers, essayed to fill the gap. I ventured in mytimid way to tap the gallant Colonel on the shoulder with a view totapping his sentiments, which proved to be exultant. He told me of thewire he had received from Lord Salisbury, and spoke of the meeting inthe Botanic Gardens which had taken place while I had watched theprocession. Then he said, "Tell the Birmingham people through the_Gazette_ that as we have the last Prime Minister and the presentChief of the Opposition with us, we cannot be called revolutionary. Asfor this meeting, it will speak for itself. I think it the biggestthing ever known. " During the procession a copy of the Home Rule Billwas burnt on the top of a pole in front of the Grand Stand. After exactly four hours of watching, I accepted the proffered aid ofan Irish friend who agreed to lead me by roundabout ways to thetelegraph office. After many narrow passages and devious turns, westruck the Royal Avenue, a long, long way from our starting place. Here we took the still advancing procession in flank. It was now 4. 45, and my friend said, "By jabers, there's forty million more of them. Ibelieve the procession reaches all round the world, and moves in acontinuous band. " And, sure enough, they were coming on as fresh asever, but I felt that four hours and a quarter of bands and drums wasenough at once, so I made a dash for the wires before they should beabsolutely blocked. My account is not, perhaps, quite perfect, but itwas pencilled under extraordinary circumstances--ten people talking tome at once, a lady's umbrella in my side, a thousand people leaning onmy right elbow, and five hundred bands sounding in my ear. Surely itmay be said to have been written under fire. Belfast, April 4th. No. 5. --HAS MR. MORLEY LIED? Before leaving Belfast I obtained incontrovertible evidence anent thegrowing fears of Mr. Gladstone's Government. Mr. Morley has denied theexistence of any such nervousness, and has repudiated the assertionthat precautions have been taken. But what is the truth of the matter?Let us see whether his statement is borne out by facts. In February certain military officers received a confidentialcommunication having reference to the defence of the Belfast barracks. They were requested to examine and report upon the possibility ofthese buildings being tenable against a _coup de main_, were orderedto examine the loop-holes for musketry, to prepare plans of the same, and to duly submit them to the proper authorities, giving theiropinion as to the practicability and sufficiency of existingarrangements in the event of the buildings being assaulted byorganised bodies of armed civilians, during the absence of soldierswho might be about the city, taking their walks abroad, after theregulation manner permitted to Mr. Thomas Atkins under ordinarycircumstances. The order was executed, the plans were duly furnished, and if Mr. Morley is still unaware of the fact, I have much pleasurein imparting the information which I have on the best authorityattainable in an imperfect world. He may rely on this statement asbeing absolutely undeniable, and to descend to particulars, I will addthat plans were made of the Tram Stables Barracks, the Willow BankBarracks, and the Victoria Barracks. As I have said, the instructionswere marked Confidential, and the Irish Secretary may have relied onthis magic word in formulating his denials. The alternative hypothesisis, of course, obvious enough. The work may have been ordered andexecuted without Mr. Morley's knowledge, but it has been done, and, after proper inquiry, he will not venture to deny it. The circumstanceis a curious commentary on the Gladstonian affectation of perfectsecurity, and the scornful references of Home Rulers to the allegeddetermination of Ulstermen, in the last resource, to push matters toextremity. I could tell him more than this. It would be easy to adduceother instances of Governmental nervousness, but prudential andconfidential considerations intervene. However, while in the vein, let me submit for serious contemplationthe fact that up to the morning postal delivery of Wednesday, April 5, 1893, written offers of personal assistance in the matter of armedresistance to the exact number of ten thousand and five have reached acertain Ulster organisation from England and Scotland, the rollincluding five generals, with a percentage of Victoria Cross men. Thisstatement is made on the authority of the Earl of Ranfurly, who toldme that the matter was within his personal knowledge, and that thewhole of these communications were entirely spontaneous and altogetherunsolicited, and that nobody in Ireland was in any way responsible fortheir existence. Lord Ranfurly also said that while the heartyfriendship and co-operation of these gentlemen were warmly appreciatedby Irish Loyalists, he was quite certain that their generous aid wouldnever be required, for that Home Rule was now defunct, dead, andburied, and beyond the possibility of resurrection. It may beremarked, in passing, that this is the feeling of the best-informedIrish Home Rulers, and that many in my hearing have offered to backtheir opinion by laying odds. The rejection of the Bill so far fromexasperating the Nationalist party, would positively come as a relief. To say that they are lukewarm is only to fairly indicate a state offeeling which is rapidly degenerating into frigidity. They declarethat the Bill is unworkable, and while maintaining their abstractright to demand whatever they choose, believe that, taking oneconsideration with another, the lot of autonomic Ireland would not bea happy one. Mr. Richard Patterson, J. P. , the great ironmonger of Belfast, observesthat "according to Mr. Gladstone the only people who really understandUlster are those who have never been in it. " My interview with him wasboth instructive and interesting. He is one of the HarbourCommissioners, and a gentleman of considerable scientific attainments, as well as a great public and commercial man. He belongs to the ReformClub and, with his fellow-members, was up to 1886 a devoted followerof Mr. Gladstone. The name of his firm, established in 1786 on thevery ground it now occupies, is a household word in Ireland, and Mr. Patterson himself has the respect and esteem of his bitterestpolitical opponents. He pointed out the unfairness and injustice ofMr. Gladstone's reference to religion, when turning a deaf ear to theBelfast deputation. "The report of the Chamber of Commerce, " he said, "was a purely business statement, and had no element of party feeling. The fact that the Protestant members of the Chamber outnumber theCatholics is in no respect due to religious intolerance, which in thisbody is totally unknown. Anybody who pays a guinea a year may beelected a member, whatever his religion, whatever his circumstances, providing he is a decent member of society, which is the onlyqualification required. Members are certainly elected by ballot, butduring the many years I have belonged to the Chamber not a singleperson has been black-balled. If the Protestants are more numerous, the fact simply demonstrates their superior prosperity, arising onlyfrom their more steady application to hard work. We live on terms ofperfect friendship with our Catholic countrymen, and we assiduouslycultivate the sentiment. It is only when a weak and ignorant panderingto disloyalty excites opposition that enmity begins. Only let usalone, that is all we ask. We were going on beautifully until Mr. Gladstone and his accomplices upset everything. " Speaking of thedifference between the Ulster men and the Irish Kelts, Mr. Pattersonsaid, "Prosperity or the reverse is indicative of the breed. TheSouthern Irish had more advantages than the Ulstermen. They had betterland, better harbours, a far more productive country, and yet theyalways seethe in discontent. Put 20, 000 Northerners in Cork, and intwenty years the Southern port could knock Liverpool out of time. "Addressing himself to the Home Rule Bill, he declared that thepractical, keen-witted merchants of Belfast dismissed the wholeconcoction as unworthy of sober consideration, and declared that anawful responsibility rested on Mr. Gladstone. Said this experiencedJ. P. : "The Belfast riots of 1886 were terrible. Forty people were killed inthe streets, and what I saw in my capacity of magistrate was dreadfulin the extreme. The injuries from gun-shot wounds were almostinnumerable, and many a local doctor gained experience in this linewhich is unknown to many an army surgeon. The riots began with theruffian class, from which this great city is not entirely free, andgradually rose upwards to the shipbuilding yards. All this disturbanceand awful loss of life were entirely due to the production of Mr. Gladstone's first bill. And now they tell us that a worse bill--for itis a worse bill--might become law without any inconvenience. I submitto any reasonable man that if the mere menace of a bill cost fortylives in Belfast alone, the loss of life all over Ireland, once thebill were passed, would be enormous. And all this will be attributableto the action of Mr. Gladstone, who has never been in Ulster. " Walking down Royal Avenue I met Colonel Saunderson, radiant after thegreat demonstration of two days ago, wearing a big bunch of violets inplace of Tuesday's bouquet of primroses. He stopped to express goodwishes to the _Gazette_, and said that the Belfasters were proud ofBirmingham, which city he regarded as being the most advanced andenlightened in the world. While he so spake, up came the mighty Dr. Kane, idol of the Ulsterites, towering over the gallant Colonel'spaltry six feet one, and looking down smilingly from his altitude ininfinite space on my own discreditable five feet ten. He agreed withthe Colonel as to the merits of Birmingham, and added that everyUnionist in Belfast cherished a deep sentiment of gratitude to thehardware city, requesting me to explode the misleading statements ofthe Separatist press, which asserts that Tuesday's processionconsisted of Orangemen. "The first two hours, " said the ReverendDoctor, "consisted of bodies who do not processionise, and who neverperform in public, in or out of Belfast, Methodists, Presbyterians, and the like, while the 25, 000 or 30, 000 Orangemen who came in at thetail of the show were a mere fraction of the whole. ColonelSaunderson, the Earl of Erne, and myself stood up in our carriage andcheered the Radical Reform Club, a thing we certainly have never donebefore. " Here the Colonel laughed, and said-- "The union of hearts, Doctor. " "Yes, the union of hearts and no mistake, as the Grand Old Man willfind--to his cost. All classes are united against the common enemy"(Mr. Gladstone). "But tell me something--How is it that the Englishpeople are deceived by that arch-professor of cant? Tell me that!" I requested the good doctor to ask me something easier, and hedoubtless would have done so, but at this moment up came the famousDr. Traill, the Admirable Crichton of Ireland, and with my usualthirst for knowledge, I ventured to suggest that the mathematicalintellect of the Trinity College Examiner might possibly grapple withthe problem. The learned professor smiled, gripped my unworthy fin, shook out somewords of greeting, wagged his head hopelessly, and--bolted like arocket. Dr. Traill is said to be equally versed in Law, Physic, and Divinity, to sport with trigonometry, and to amuse his lighter moments with thedifferential calculus. But "this knowledge was too wonderful for him, he could not attain unto it, " and to avoid confession of defeat, hefled with lightning speed. This erudite doctor is well known inEngland, especially among riflemen. Colonel Saunderson describes himas a wonderful shot at a thousand yards, and thinks he was once one ofthe Irish Eight at Wimbledon. I met him on the stand on Tuesday, whenhe amusingly described his adventures on the Continent. "The poorPoles, " he said, "wished to take me to their collective bosom, and tofall on my individual neck, the moment they found I was an Irishman. They said we were brothers in misfortune!" Whereat this learned punditlaughed good-humouredly. It may be that Dr. Traill is the long-rangerifleman of whom a Land League man remarked, on hearing that themarksman had made a long series of bull's eyes-- "The saints betune us an' harm--but wouldn't he make an iliganttenant!" Dr. Kane was not surprised to see the professor run away. He said, "Icannot understand it all. I must and will cross the Channelimmediately to investigate this strange phenomenon. I have alwaysconsidered the English a people of superior mental force, men whocould not be easily deceived. That they should pin their faith to aman who has proved to demonstration that Home Rule is impossible, whomore than any other has branded the Nationalist party with ignominy, Icannot understand. " The Doctor perhaps momentarily forgot that theEnglish do not pin their faith to Mr. Gladstone, that the adversemajority are dead against him, and that this majority is dailyincreasing by leaps and bounds. Gallant Captain Leslie, whom I sawearlier in the day, more accurately hit the situation. This splendidold soldier said, "The English people are not to be blamed. Livingunder social conditions of perfect freedom and friendship they do notunderstand the conditions prevailing in Ireland; they cannot beexpected to understand a state of things differing so widely fromanything within the circle of their own experience. But all the same, if they grant Home Rule, if they listen to the disloyal party ratherthan to their loyal friends, if they truckle to treason rather thansupport their own supporters, the consequences will be disastrous toEngland, and where the disasters will stop is a piece of knowledgewhich 'passes the wit of man. '" Running up to Ballymena, I encountered several interestingpersonalities, each of whom had his own view of the all-absorbingsubject, and looked at the matter from his own standpoint. AnIrish-American of high culture, a man of science, looked up from whathe regarded as "the most interesting book in existence, " which turnedout to be Thompson's "Evolution of Sex, " and said that once Home Rulewere in force the blackguard American-Irish would return in shoals, and that the Fenians of America might be expected to "boss the show. ""How is it, " he asked, "that the English people listen to what appearsthe chief argument of Separatist orators--that agitation will come toan end, that the Irish will be content to rest and be thankful?Clearly while money and power can be had by agitation, so long willagitation continue. That seems so obvious to me, that I wonder at thepatience of the North of England men--I was among them during thegeneral election--in listening quietly to this argument, if it be oneat all. And with all their experience of the past to enlighten theminto the bargain. Was not the disestablishment of the Church to removeall cause of discontent? Then it was the land. You gave several LandActs, most favourable laws, very one-sided, all in favour of thetenant, far beyond what English, Scotch, or Welsh farmers hope to get. Have you satisfied Irishmen yet? No, and you never will. The more yougive, the more they ask. They never will be content. ''Tis not theirnature to. ' England now suffers for her own weak good nature. The truecurse of Ireland is laziness. I left Belfast at twenty, but I am wellacquainted with Ireland. In the North they work and prosper. In theSouth they do nothing but nurse their grievances. Twenty years' firmgovernment, as Lord Salisbury said, would enrich the country. Do theright thing by them--put them level with England and Scotland, andthen put down your foot. Let them know that howling will do no good, and they'll stop it like a shot. Paddy is mighty 'cute, and knows whenhe has a _man_ to deal with. Put a noodle over him and that noodle'slife will be a burden. And serve him right. Fools must expect fools'reward. " A Catholic priest I met elsewhere was very chary of his opinions, andconfined himself to the "hope that England would see her way tocompensate the Church and the country for centuries of extortion andoppression. " This he thought was a matter of "common honesty. " He didnot exactly suggest a perpetual church-rate for the benefit of theCatholics of Ireland, but the thing is on the cards, and may beproposed by Mr. Gladstone later on. Something ought to be done, something substantial, for the gentlemen educated under the MaynoothGrant. Mr. Bull has admitted the principle, and his sense of fair playwill doubtless lead him to do the right thing, always, of course, under compulsion, which is now usually regarded as the mainspring ofthat estimable gentleman's supposed virtuous actions. Ballymena is a smart looking place, trig and trim, thriving andwell-liking, a place to look upon and live. The people are allwell-clad, and prosperous, well-fed and well-grown. The men are mostlybig, the women mostly beautiful; the houses are of stone, handsome andwell-built. On the bleaching grounds you see long miles oflinen--Irish miles, of course--and all the surroundings are pleasant. After this, no need to say the place is one of the blackest, mostUnionist, Protestant, and loyal in the whole country. A number of buffplacards issued by Nationalists attract respectful attention. The samebill is stuck all over Belfast--in the High Street, on the hoardingsfacing the heretic meeting houses, everywhere. It purports to presentthe sentiments of the great Duke of Wellington _re_ the RomanCatholics of Ireland, and is to the effect that in moments of dangerand difficulty the Roman Catholics had caused the British Empire tofloat buoyant when other Empires were wrecked; that the RomanCatholics of Ireland, and they only, had saved our freedom, ourConstitution, our institutions, and in short that it is to the IrishRoman Catholics that we owe everything worth having. Alone they didit. The priest, in short, has made Mr. Bull the man he is. Can anybody in England "go one better" than this? These extracts are plainly taken from some speech on the RomanCatholic Emancipation Bill, and refer to the valour of the Irishsoldiery, whose bravery in fighting for a Protestant cause wasdoubtless invaluable to the cause of liberty. There is an apocryphalstory concerning Alfred de Musset, who on his death-bed is reported tohave conveyed to a friend with his last breath his last, his onlywish, to wit:-- "Don't permit me to be annotated. " The Iron Duke might have said thesame if he had thought of it. He could not know that, shorn of hiscontext, divorced from his drift, he would be placarded in his nativeland as an agent in the cause of sedition and disloyalty. This trulyGrand Old Man, who, in his determination to uphold the dignity andunity of the Empire "stood four-square to all the winds that blew, "would scarcely have sided with the modern G. O. M. And his satellites, Horsewhipped Healy and Breeches O'Brien. One word as to the alleged "intolerance of the fanatic Orangemen ofBelfast. " The placards above-mentioned were up on Tuesday last. They are largeand boldly printed, and attracted crowds of readers--but not a handwas raised to deface them, to damage them, to do them any injurywhatever. I watched them for four-and-twenty hours, and not a fingerwas lifted against any one in the High Street or elsewhere, so far asI could ascertain. There are twenty thousand Orangemen in the city, and the Protestantsoutnumber the Papists by three to one. Yet the placard was treatedwith absolute respect, and although I entered several groups ofreaders I heard no words of criticism--no comment, unfavourable orotherwise, no gesture of dissent. The people seemed to be interestedin the bill, and desirous of giving it respectful consideration. Ihave seen Liberal Birmingham, when in the days of old it assembledround Tory posters--but the subject becomes delicate; better changeour ground. It is, however, only fair to say that the Gladstonians ofBirmingham, who, as everybody knows, formed the extreme and inferiorwing of the old Radical party, can hardly teach the Belfast mentolerance. Ballymena, April 6th. No. 6. --THE EXODUS OF INDUSTRY. Derry is a charming town, unique, indescribable. Take equal parts ofAmsterdam and Antwerp, add the Rhine at Cologne, and Waterloo Bridge, mix with the wall of Chester and the old guns of Peel Castle, throw ina strong infusion of Wales, with about twenty Nottingham lacefactories, stir up well and allow to settle, and you will get thegeneral effect. The bit of history resulting in the raising of thesiege still influences Derry conduct and opinions. The 'Prentice Boysof Derry, eight hundred strong, are ardent loyalists, and having oncebeaten an army twenty-five thousand strong, believe that for the goodof the country, like the orator who had often "gone widout a male, "they too could "do it again. " They do not expect to be confronted withthe necessity, but both the Boys and the Orangemen of Derry, with alltheir co-religionists, are deeply pledged to resist a DublinParliament. "We would not take the initiative, but would merely standon our own defence, and offer a dogged resistance. We have a tolerablestore of arms, although this place was long a proclaimed district, andwe have fifteen modern cannon, two of which are six-pounders, the restmostly four-pounders, and one or two two-pounders, which are snuglystored away, for fear of accident. " Thus spake one who certainlyknows, and his words were amply confirmed from another quarter. Derry makes shirts. The industrious Derryans make much money, and inmany ways. They catch big salmon in the middle of the town, andoutside it they have what Mr. Gladstone would call a "plethora" ofrivers. They ship unnumbered emigrants to the Far West, and carry theproduce of the surrounding agriculturists to Glasgow and Liverpool. They also make collars and cuffs, but this is mere sport. Their realvocation is the making of shirts, which they turn out by the million, mostly of high quality. Numbers of great London houses have theirworks at Derry. Welch, Margeston and Co. Among others. The Derrypartner, Mr. Robert Greer, an Englishman forty years resident in thetown, favoured me with his views _re_ Home Rule, thus:-- "The bill would be ruinous to Ireland, but not to the same extent asto England. Being an Englishman, I may be regarded as free from thesectarian animosity which actuates the opposing parties, but I cannotclose my eyes to the results of the bill, results of which no saneperson, in a position to give an opinion, can have any doubt. We areso convinced that the bill would render our business difficult, not tosay impracticable, that our London partners say they will remove theworks, plant, machinery, and all, to the West of Scotland orelsewhere. "About 1, 200 girls are employed in the mill, and 3, 000 to 4, 000 womenat their own homes all over the surrounding country. "Mr. Gladstone may think he knows best, but here the unanimous opinionis that trade will be fatally injured. Ireland is no mean market forEnglish goods, and the market will be closed because Ireland will haveno money to spend. Go outside the manufacturing towns and what do yousee? Chronic poverty. Manufacturers will remove to the Continent, toAmerica--anywhere else--leaving the peasantry only. The prospectivetaxes are alarming. We know what would be one of the very first actsof a Dublin Parliament. They would curry favour with the poor, thelazy districts, by an equalisation of the poor rate. In Derry, whereeverybody works for his bread, the rate is about sixpence in thepound. There are districts where it runs to ten shillings in thepound. The wealthy traders, the capitalists, the manufacturers of theNorth will have to pay for the loafers of the South. The big men wouldgather up their goods and chattels and clear out. There are otherreasons for this course. " Here Mr. Greer made the inevitable statement that Englishmen out ofIreland did not understand the question; and another largemanufacturer chipped in with:-- "Leave us alone, and we get on admirably. There is no intolerance;everybody lives comfortably with his neighbour. But pass the bill andwhat happens? The Catholic employés would become unmanageable, wouldbegin to kick over the traces, would want to dictate terms, wouldattempt to dominate the Protestant section, which would rebel, andtrouble would ensue. They would not work together. It is impracticableto say: Employ one faith only and Home Rule means that Catholicism isto hold the sway. The Nationalist leaders foster this spirit, otherwise there would be no Home Rule. The workpeople would act asdirected by the priest, even in matters connected with employment. Youhave no idea what that means to us. It means ruin. The people do notknow their own mind, and their ignorance is amazing. My porter saysthat when the bill becomes law, which will take place in one monthfrom date, he will have a situation in Dublin at a thousand a year, and both he and others sincerely believe in such a changed state ofthings for Catholics alone. " I went over Welch, Margetson's works, a wonderful place, where werehundreds of women, clean and well-dressed, working at the variousdepartments of shirt-making. The highest class of mill hands I eversaw, working in large and well-ventilated rooms, many getting a pounda week. Another firm over the way employs one thousand five hundredmore. And according to the best authority, that of the owners, allthis is to leave the country when Ireland gets Home Rule. A very intelligent Catholic farmer living a few miles out of Donegalsaid, "Farmers look at the bill in the light of the land question. We're not such fools as to believe in Gladstone or his bill foranythin' else. Shure, Gladstone never invints anythin' at all, butonly waits till pressure is put on him. Shure, iverythin' has to bedhragged out iv him, an' if he settles the land question, divil thankhim, 'tis because he knows he's bate out an' out, an' _has_ to do it, whether he will or no. An' now he comes bowin' an' scrapin' an'condiscindin' to relave us--whin we kicked it out o' his skin. Ah! thedivil sweep him an' his condiscinshun. " Ingratitude, thy name is Irish Tenant! Misther O'Doherty proceeded to say that landlords were all right now, under compulsion. But the tenantry demanded that they should bereleased entirely from the landlords' yoke. He said that theagriculturists were not in touch with the whole question of Home Rule, nor would they consider any subject but that of the land. TheNationalists had preached prairie value, and the people were tickledby the idea of driving out landowners and Protestants. All the evictedtenants, all the men who have no land, all the ne'er-do-weels wouldexpect to be satisfied. Ulster is tillage--the South is mostlygrazing. Ulster had been profitably cultivated by black Protestants, and their land was coveted by the priests for their own people. Myfriend admitted that, although born a Catholic, his religious opinionswere liberal. I asked him if the Protestant minority would becomfortable under a Dublin Parliament. He shook his headnegatively--"Under equal laws they are friendly enough, but they donot associate, they do not intermarry, they have little or nothing todo with each other. They are like oil and wather in the same bottle, ye can put them together but they won't mix. And the Protestantminority has always been the best off, simply because they are hardworkers. A full-blooded Irishman is no worker. He likes to live fromhand to mouth, and that satisfies him. When he has enough to last hima day through he drops work at once. The Protestants have Scotchblood, and they go on working with the notion that they'll be betteroff than their father, who was better off than their grandfather. Andthat's the whole of it. " Mr. J. Gilbert Kennedy, of Donegal, holds similar views of Irishindolence. He told me that although living in a congested district hecould not obtain men to dig in his gardens, except when thereto drivenby sheer necessity, and that having received a day's pay they wouldnot return to work so long as their money lasted. "They will put upwith semi-starvation, cold, and nakedness most patiently. Theirendurance is most commendable. They will bear anything, only--don'task them to work. " Mrs. Kennedy said that with crowds of poor girlsaround her, she was compelled to obtain kitchen maids and so forthfrom Belfast. "They will not be servants, and when they afford casualhelp, they do it as a great favour. " A Scotsman who employs five hundred men in the mechanical work said:"I have been in Ireland fifteen years, and have gone on fairlysmoothly, but with a world of management. For the sake of peace I havenot five Protestants in the place; and I would have none if I couldhelp it. It is, however, necessary to have Protestant foremen. Irishmen are not born mechanics. In Scotland and England men take tothe vice and the lathe like mother's milk, but here it is labour andpain. Irishmen are not capable of steady, unremitting work. They wanta day on and a day off. They wish to be traders, cattle-drovers, pig-jobbers, that they may wander from fair to fair. My men havelittle to do beyond minding machines; otherwise I must have Scots orEnglish. Discharge a man and the most singular things occur. In a lateinstance I had seven written requests from all sorts of quarters totake the man back, although before discharge he had been duly warned. The entire neighbourhood called on me--the man's father, wife, mother, the priest, a Protestant lady, three whiskey-sellers, twoPresbyterians, the Church of Ireland parson, God knows who. Thislasted a fortnight, and then threatening letters set in; coffins, skulls, and marrow-bones were chalked all over the place, with myinitials. Indeed you may say they are a wonderful people. " Mr. E. T. Herdman, J. P. , of Sion Mills, Co. Tyrone, should knowsomething of the Irish people. The model village above-named belongsto him. Travellers to Londonderry viâ the Great Northern will rememberhow the great Herdman flax-spinning mills, with their clean, prosperous, almost palatial appearance, relieve the melancholy aspectof the peaty landscape about the Rivers Mourne and Derg. Mr. Herdmanpays in wages some £30, 000 a year, a sum of which the magnitudeassumes colossal proportions in view of the surrounding landscape. Thepeople of the district speak highly of the Herdman family, who aretheir greatest benefactors, but they failed to return Mr. E. T. Herdman, who contested East Donegal in 1892. The people were willingenough, but the priests stepped in and sent a Nationalist. Said Mr. Herdman, "Home Rule would be fatal to England. The Irish people havemore affinity with the Americans or the French than with the English, and the moment international difficulties arise Ireland would have tobe reconquered by force of arms. And complications would arise, and inmy estimation would arise very early. " A landowner I met at Beragh, County Tyrone, held somewhat original opinions. He said, "I refused toidentify myself with any Unionist movement. If we're going to berobbed, let us be robbed; if our land is going to be confiscated, letit be confiscated. The British Government is going to give ussomething, if not much, by way of compensation; and my opinion is, that if the Grand Old Man lives five years longer he'll propose togive the Irish tenants the fee-simple of the lands without a penny topay. That's my view, begad. I'm a sportsman, not a politician, and mywife says I'm a fool, and very likely she knows best. But, begad, Isay let us have prairie value to-day, for to-morrow the G. O. M. Willgive us nothing at all. " The most extraordinary curiosity of Derry, the _lusus naturæ_ of whichthe citizens justly boast, is _the_ Protestant Home Ruler of brainsand integrity who, under the familiar appellation of John Cook, livesin Waterloo Place. Reliable judges said, "Mr. Cook is a man of highhonour, and the most sincere patriot imaginable, besides being ahighly-cultured gentleman. " So excited was I, so eager to see an IrishHome Ruler combining these qualities with his political faith, that Iset off instanter in search of him, and having sought diligently tillI found him, intimated a desire to sit at his patriotic feet. Heconsented to unburden his Nationalist bosom, and assuredly seemed tomerit the high character he everywhere bears. Having heard his opinionon the general question, I submitted that Mr. Bull's difficulty waslack of confidence, and that he might grant a Home Rule Bill, if theIrish leaders were men of different stamp. He said they were "clevermen not overburdened with money, " and admitted that a superior classwould have been more trustworthy, but relied on the people. "If thefirst administrators of the law were dishonest, the people wouldreplace them by others. The keystone of my political faith is trust inthe people. The Irish are keen politicians, and may be trusted to keepthings square. " I submitted that the patriots were in the pay of the Irish-Americans, who were no friends of England-- "The present Nationalist members are not purists, but to take moneyfor their services, to accept £300 a year is no more disgraceful thanthe action of the Lord Chancellor who takes £10, 000. TheAmerican-Irish cherish a just resentment. They went away because theywere driven out of the country by the land system of that day. And theIrish people must be allowed to regenerate themselves. It cannot bedone by England. Better let them go to hell in their own way thanattempt to spoon-feed them. But the injustice of former days does notjustify the injustice to the landlords proposed by the present bill. It is a bad bill, an unjust bill, and would do more harm than good. England should have a voice in fixing the price, for if the matter beleft to the Irish Parliament gross injustice will be done. The tenantswere buying their land, aided by the English loans, for they foundthat their four per cent. Interest came lower than their rent. Butthey have quite ceased to buy, and for the stipulated three years willpay their rent as usual, and why? Because they expect the Irishlegislature to give them even better terms--or even to get the landfor nothing. Retributive justice is satisfied. For the last twentyyears the landlords have suffered fearfully. The present bill isradically unsound, and I trust it will never become law. " And this was all that the one specimen of a Protestant Home Ruler Ihave found in Ireland could say in favour of his views! Hisintelligence and probity compelled him to denounce Mr. Gladstone'sBill as "unjust" and radically unsound, and his patriotism caused himto pray that it might never become law! I left him more Unionist thanever. The great Orange leader of Derry, Mr. John Guy Ferguson, once GrandRuler, and of world-wide fame, deprecated appeal to arms, except underdirest necessity. "I should recommend resistance to all except theQueen's troops. Before all things a sincere loyalist, I should neverconsent to fire a shot on them. Others think differently, and in caseof pressure and excitement the most regrettable things might happen. The people of Derry are full of their great victory of 1688, andbelieve that their one hundred and five days' resistance saved Englandfrom Catholic tyranny. The Bishop of Derry, as you know, had orderedthat the troops of King James should be admitted when the thirteenPrentice Boys closed the gate on the very nose of his army. " I saw thetwo white standards taken from the Catholic troops flanking the highaltar of the Cathedral; which also contains the grandly-carved case ofan organ taken from a wreck of the Spanish Armada in 1588, just acentury before the siege. The people have ever before them thesewarlike spoils, which may account for their martial spirit. An oldPrentice Boy told me of the great doings of 1870, how a Catholicpublican, one O'Donnell, endeavoured to prevent the annual marching ofthe Boys, who on the anniversary of the raising of the siege, paradethe walls, fire guns, and burn traitor Lundy in effigy; how 5, 000 menin sleeve-waistcoats entered the town to stop the procession, how themilitary intervened, and forbade both marching and burning; how theBoys seized the Town Hall, and in face of 1, 700 soldiers and policeburnt an effigy hanging from a high window, which the authoritiescould not reach; how Colonel Hillier broke down the doors and stormedthe hall at the bayonet's point, to search both sexes for arms. Gleefully he produced an alphabetical rhyme, which he thought ratherappropriate to the present time, and which ended as follows:--"X isthe excellent way they (the authorities) were beaten, and exceedingamount of dirt they have eaten. Y is the yielding to blackguardsunshorn, which cannot and will not much longer be borne. Z is the zealwith which England put down the Protestant boys who stood up for thecrown. " In 1883 Lord Mayor Dawson of Dublin wished to lecture atDerry, but the Boys took the Hall and held it, declining to permit the"colleague of Carey" (on the Dublin Town Council) to speak in thecity. There you have the present spirit of Derry. Two miles outside the town I came on a fine Home Ruler, who hadsomewhere failed to sell a pig. "Sorra one o' me 'll do any good tillwe get Home Rule. " He paid £5 a year for two acres of land with ahouse. "'Tis the one-half too much, Av I paid fifty shillings, I'd beaisy, " he said. Truly a small sum to stand between him and affluence. I failed to sympathise with this worthy man, but my spirits fell as Iwalked through a collar factory, and thought of Mr. Gladstone. Thedislocation of the shirt trade is less serious. Few Irish patriotshave any personal interest in this particular branch of industry. Dublin, April 8th. MR. BALFOUR IN DUBLIN. Mr. Balfour is the most popular man in Ireland, and his Dublin visitwill be for ever memorable. The Leinster Hall, which holds severalthousands, was packed by half-past five; ninety minutes beforestarting time, and the multitude outside was of enormous proportions. The people were respectable, quiet, good-humoured, as are Unionistcrowds in general, though it was plain that the Dubliners are moredemonstrative than the Belfast men. The line of police in HawkinsStreet had much difficulty in regulating the surging throng whichpressed tumultuously on the great entrance without the smallest hopeof ever getting in. The turmoil of cheering and singing was incessant, and everyone seemed under the influence of pleasurable excitement. Asyou caught the eye of any member of the crowd he would smile with a"What-a-day-we're-having" kind of expression. The college studentswere in great form, cheering with an inexhaustible vigour, every mansmoking and carrying a "thrifle iv a switch. " Portraits of Mr. Balfourfound a ready sale, and Tussaud's great exhibition of waxworks nextdoor to the hall was quite unable to compete with the living hero. Messrs. Burke and Hare, Parnell and Informer Carey, Tim Healy andBreeches O'Brien, Mr. Gladstone and Palmer the poisoner, with otherbenefactors and philanthropists, were at a discount. The outsiderswere waiting to see Mr. Balfour, but they were disappointed. LordIveagh's carriage suddenly appeared in Poolbeg Street at thepressmen's entrance, and the hero slipped into the hall almostunobserved. Inside, the enthusiasm was tremendous. The building isplanned like the Birmingham Town Hall, and the leading features of theauditorium are similar. The orchestra was crowded to the ceiling, thegreat gallery was closely packed, the windows were occupied, and everyinch of floor was covered. A band played "God Save the Queen, " "RuleBritannia, " and the "Boyne Water. " The word "Union, " followed by thenames of Balfour, Abercorn, Iveagh, Hartington, Chamberlain, andGoschen, was conspicuous on the side galleries, and over Mr. Balfour'shead was a great banner bearing the rose, thistle, and shamrock, withthe Union Jack and the English crown over all. Boldly-printed mottoesin scarlet and white, such as "Quis Separabit?" "Union is strength, ""We Won't submit to Home Rule, " and "God Bless Balfour, " abounded, andin the galleries and on the floor men waved the British flag. Thepeople listened to the band, or amused themselves with patriotic songsand Kentish fire, till Mr. Balfour arrived, when their cheering, loudand long, was taken up outside, and reverberated through the city. The preliminaries being over, the principal speaker rose amidredoubled applause, which gradually subsided to the silence of intenseexpectation. Mr. Balfour's first words fell like drops of water in athirsty land, and never had a speaker a more eager, attentive, respectful audience. Now and then stentorian shouts of assentencouraged him, but the listeners were mostly too much in earnest fornoise. It was plain that they meant business, and that thedemonstration was no mere empty tomfoolery. Parnellites were there--adrop in the ocean--but their small efforts at interruption weresmilingly received. True, there was once a shout of "Throw him out, "but a trumpet-like voice screamed "Give him a wash, 'tis what hemostly needs, the crathur, " upon which a roar of laughter proclaimedthat the offender was forgiven. The outsiders continued their singingand cheering, and when Mr. Balfour concluded sent up a shout the likeof which Dublin has seldom heard, if ever. Succeeding speakers werewell received, the audience holding their ground. Mr. J. Hall, ofCork, evoked great cheering by the affirmation that Protestantsdesired no advantage, no privilege, unshared by their Catholicbrethren. Similar points made by other speakers met with an instantand hearty confirmation that was unmistakable. Lord Sligo pointed outthat firmness and integrity were nowhere better understood than inIreland, and said that while William O'Brien, the great Nationalist, visited Cork under a powerful escort of police, who with the utmostdifficulty prevented the populace from tearing him to pieces; on theother hand, Mr. Balfour had passed through the length and breadth ofthe land, visiting the poverty-stricken and disturbed districts of theWest, with no other protection beyond that afforded by "histender-hearted sister. " Mr. Balfour rose to make a second speech, andthe enthusiasm reached its climax. The great ex-Secretary seemedtouched, and although speaking slowly showed more than his usualemotion. When he concluded the people sent up a shout such as Englandnever hears--an original shout, long drawn out on a high musical note, something like the unisonous tone of forty factory bulls. The students went outside, and with their friends formed in militarycolumns--the outside files well armed with knobby sticks as adeterrent to possible Parnellite enterprise. An extemporised arch ofUnion Jacks canopied Mr. Balfour in his carriage, which was drawn byhundreds of willing hands linked in long line. The column, properlymarshalled, moved away, keeping step amid loud shouts of "Right, left, right, left, " until perfect uniformity was attained, and thedisciplined force marched steadily on to College Green, following thetriumphal chariot with alternate verses of "God Save the Queen" and"Rule Britannia, " each verse interpolated with great bursts ofapplause. At Trinity College the glare of torches appeared, andsimultaneously an organised attempt at groaning boomed in under thecheering. Heedless of the rabble the column marched merrily on, notwith the broken rush of an English mob, but with the irresistibleforce of unity in a concrete mass, with the multitudinous tramp of anarmy division. The yelling slummers hovered on each flank, franticwith impotent rage; willing to wound and yet afraid to strike, knowingthat to themselves open conflict meant annihilation. A savage, unsavoury horde of rat-like ruffians, these same allies of Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Morley, a peculiarly repulsive residuum these Dublinoff-scourings. They screamed "To hell with Balfour, " "To hell with theEnglish, " "To hell with your Unionists, " "To hell with QueenVictoria. " Some of them sang a doggerel, beginning:-- Let the English remember, We'll make them surrender, And chase them to their boats, And cut their ---- throats, And make a big flood Of their bad black blood-- not precisely a poem to herald the famous "Union of hearts" soconfidently expected. The Unionists tramped on cheering triumphantly, rejoicing in their strength, ignoring the taunting and jeering of theParnellite scum as beneath contempt. An old Home Ruler expresseddisapprobation of his party. "What's the use of showing your teethwhen you can't bite?" he said. "Wait till we get the bill and then wewill show them and the English what we can do. " On through Grafton Street, Nassau Street, and into Dawson Street, always with great shouting and singing of "God Save the Queen, " and"Rule Britannia, " the torches still glaring in front. At Morrisson'sHotel, where Parnell was arrested, a man shouted "Three cheers forGladstone, " but nobody responded. The rabble may use him, but theyrefused a single shout. On the other hand groans were given withleonine force both for Morley and his master. Arrived at St. Stephen'sGreen, the procession halted at Lord Iveagh's residence, and Mr. Balfour came on the balcony, receiving a welcome right royal. He madeanother speech amid cheering and groaning of tremendous energy, makinghimself tolerably well heard under abnormal conditions. When he said"This day shall never fade from my recollection, " the lamp beside himwas removed and all was over. Back tramped the column, with its cloudsof camp-followers, on the way cheering and sending to hell the memberfor South Tyrone, with other prominent politicians who live on theline of march. The students held their sticks aloft, striking themtogether in time to their singing. A shindy had been predicted on thereturn to College Green, and little groups of Scots Greys and GordonHighlanders, the latter in their white uniforms, lounged about smokingtheir pipes in happy expectation, but beyond cheering at the statue ofOrange William in Dame Street, nothing whatever occurred, andpresently the crowd began to disperse. Seeing this, the police, whountil now had been massed in strong force broke up into units, andmoving leisurely about said, "Good night, boys; you have had enoughfun for one day. Get to bed, all of you. " Then the young men who hadcomposed the great loyalist column left the square in little bands, each singing "God save the Queen, " and every man feeling that he haddeserved well of his country. The bill may be stone dead, but there isa satisfaction in the act of shovelling earth on the corpse. Dublin, April 8th. No. 7. --BAD FOR ENGLAND, RUINOUS TO IRELAND. Home Rule for Ireland means damage and loss to English working men. During the late general election the working men candidates ofBirmingham, and of England generally, argued that once Ireland weregranted Home Rule the distressful land would immediately become aGarden of Eden, a sort of Hibernian El-Dorado; that the poverty whichdrove Irishmen from their native shores would at once and for evercease and determine, and that thenceforth--and here was thebribe--Irishmen would cease to compete with the overcrowded artisansand labourers of England. That these statements are diametricallyopposed to the truth is well known to all persons of moderateintelligence, and the personal statement of several great capitalistswith reference to their course of action in the event of Home Rulebecoming law tends to show that multitudes of the industrious classesof Irish manufacturing towns will at once be thrown out of employment, and must of necessity flock to England, increasing the congestion ofits great cities, competing with English labour, and inevitablylowering the rate of wages. Hear what comfortable words Mr. RobertWorthington can speak. Mr. Worthington is no politician; never has interfered with partyquestions; has always confined his attention to his business affairs. It was because of this that Mr. Balfour sent for him to confer anentthe light railways, which have proved such a blessing to the country. It was Mr. Worthington who carried out most of these beneficent works. Besides this, Mr. Worthington has built railways to the amount ofthree-quarters of a million in Ireland alone. He has employed 5, 300men at one time, and his regular average exceeds 1, 500 all the yearround. He may therefore be said to know what he is talking about. Icalled on him at 30, Dame Street, before I left Dublin, and he said, "The bill would be bad for England in every way, and would ruinIreland. The question is certainly one for the English working man. Ifhe wishes to avoid the competition of armies of Irish labourers andartisans he must throw out the bill. And this is how it will work-- "All the railways I have constructed in Ireland have been built oncounty guarantees assisted by special grants from the ImperialTreasury. Without these special grants the work could never have beenundertaken at all. If Home Rule becomes law those special grants fromthe Imperial Treasury will be no longer available; and what will bethe result? Clearly that the work will not be undertaken; that thebuilding of railways will come to an end, and that the Irish peasantswho have devoted themselves to railway work will go to England and tryto find employment there. Once a railway navvy, always a railwaynavvy, is a well-known and very true saying. "For my own part I shall be compelled to compete in England, havingnothing to do in Ireland, and I shall of course transport my staff andlabourers across the Channel. "The railways of Ireland, fostered by English capital, resting onEngland's security, have given vast employment to my countrymen. Butthey would do so no longer. Let us give an example to prove my point. "Before the introduction of the Home Rule Bill the railway stock towhich I have referred stood at a premium of 27 per cent. Since thebill became public and has been the subject of popular discussion, Ibrought out the Ballinrobe and Claremorris Railway--with what result?Not one-seventh of the sum required has been subscribed, although inthe absence of the bill the amount would certainly have beensubscribed four times over, at a premium of 20 per cent. What doesthis prove? "Simply this--that the farmers and small shopkeepers who invest inthis class of security will not trust their savings in the hands ofthe proposed Irish Legislature. The bill, therefore, stops progress, retards enterprise, drives away capital, and the workers must followthe money. That seems clear enough. Everybody here concedes so much. More than this. I can say from my own experience, and from the reportsof my agents and engineers in the South and West of Ireland, that theNationalists do not want this bill. I do not speak of Home Rule, butof this bill only. All condemn its provisions, and universally concurin the opinion that once it were passed it would be succeeded by amore violent agitation than anything we have yet seen--an agitationhaving for its object the radical amendment of the measure. "There is a complete cessation of railway work. Already the men arethinking of moving. But this is not all. I am now at a standstill, pulled up short by the bill. What is the effect on England? Underordinary circumstances I buy largely all kinds of railwaymaterial--steel rails, sleepers, fasteners, engines, and carriages. Every year I send thousands and thousands of pounds to England forthese things, and surely most of the money goes indirectly into thepockets of English working men, who are now suffering the loss of allthis by reason of their apathy in this matter. I speak only as a manof business, anxious for the prosperity of my country. I do notdiscuss Home Rule; never did discuss it and never will. But I endwhere I began, and I repeat the bill will ruin Ireland, will be badfor England, and I will add that the British Government will soon becompelled to intervene to stave off Irish bankruptcy. Home Rulers arenow becoming afraid of the bill; artisans, farmers, and labourersthink it a good joke. They relished the hunt, but they don't want thegame. "Returning to my own affairs, I say without hesitation that though themere threat of the bill has paralysed my business, and that thepassing of the bill would drive my men to England, yet--throw out thebill, deliver us from the impending dread, and during the next twoyears I shall myself expend £150, 000 in railway material manufacturedby British artisans. Emphatically I repeat that Home Rule to theBritish working man means increased competition and direct pecuniaryloss. " Mr. S. McGregor, of 30, Anglesea Street, Dublin, has been located inthe city for 34 years, and seems to have been a politician from thefirst. Coming from the Land o' Cakes, he landed an advanced Radical, and a devoted admirer of the Grand Auld Mon. Once on the spot a changecame o'er the spirit of his dream. His shop has the very unusualfeature of indicating his political views. Her Gracious Majesty, LordBeaconsfield, and Mr. Balfour look down upon you from neat frames. Iam disposed to regard Mr. McGregor as the pluckiest man in Ireland. Aquiet, peaceful citizen he is, one who remembers the Sawbath, and onweekdays concentrates his faculties on his occupation as a tailor andclothier. I did not seek the interview, which arose from a businesscall not altogether unconnected with a missing button, but hisopinions and his information are well worth recording. Mr. McGregorsaid, "I thrust my opinions on none, but I have a right to myopinions, and I do not affect concealment. The great defect of theIrish Unionists is want of courage. They dare not for their lives comeforward and boldly state their convictions. If Lord Emly or some otherIrish Roman Catholic nobleman had come forward earlier, it might haveinduced weak-kneed members of the party to do likewise. The Unionistsdo not exercise the great influence they undoubtedly possess. Theyallow themselves to be terrorised into silence. Let them have thecourage of their opinions and they have nothing to fear. The masses ofthe industrial population are not in favour of Home Rule. Thecorner-men, who want to spend what they never earned, and the farmers, who hope to get the land for nothing, are the only hearty Home Rulersin Ireland. I employ ten people, all Roman Catholics, some of themwith me for twenty-five years. None of these are Home Rulers. I becamea convert to Conservatism by my intimate knowledge and personalacquaintance with many of the leaders of the Fenian movement. I sawthrough the hollowness of the whole thing, and declined any connectiontherewith. Poor Henry Rowles, who was to be told off by signal toshoot Mr. Foster, was one of my workmen. He died in prison, some saidfrom sheer fright, but two or three of his friends were hanged. He wasmixed up by marriage with the Fenian party, and was drawn on and onlike many another. I would rather not name the Fenian leaders I knew, and the reason is this. I knew them too well. Speaking of the Unionistlack of courage, you must not be too much surprised. During the lastfourteen years Unionists have had to maintain a guerilla warfare forexistence. But the strangest feature of the present position isthis--the Home Rulers are kicking at the bill! A great Home Ruler ofmy acquaintance (Mr. McGregor referred me to him) is getting quiteafraid. He is a farmer holding 300 acres under Lord Besborough, andsays that he trusts things will remain as they are. He has a goodlandlord, borrows money by the subvention, and has a perfect horrorof the class of men who will obtain the upper hand in Ireland. ANationalist over the way was about to extend the buildings you seethere. Plans were drafted, and offices were to be built. Out comes thebill and in goes the project. He has no confidence in the IrishNationalist leaders; but, strange to say he believes in Mr. Gladstone. He admits that the Irish M. P. 's are not quite up to his ideal, butbelieves that the Grand Old Man's genius for accommodation andingenious dovetailing of Imperial interests will pull the countrythrough. Meanwhile he lays out no penny of money. "I am a Presbyterian, and what is more a United Presbyterian, belonging to the Presbyter of Scotland. All Scotch Presbyterians areadvanced Radicals. We have four hundred members here. They came hereworshippers of Gladstone and Home Rulers to the tune of 97 per cent. The congregation is now 99 per cent. Unionist or Conservative out andout. Of the four hundred we have only three Home Rulers. What will theEnglish people say to that? Tell them that our minister, who came herea Home Ruler, is now on a Unionist mission in Scotland--the Rev. Mr. Procter, brother of Procter, the cartoonist of _Moonshine_ and the_Sketch_, to wit. My workpeople, all steady, industrious people, askbut one thing--it is to be let alone. " Here Mr. G. M. Roche, the great Irish wool-factor and famous amateurphotographer, said-- "Ah! we must have the bill. 'Tis all we want to finish us up. We'renever happy unless we're miserable; the bill will make us so and we'llnever be properly discontented till we get it!" Passing through the Counties of Louth, Dublin, Londonderry, Monaghan, Tyrone, Donegal, and Fermanagh, I met with many farmers whosestatements amply confirmed the words of the descendant of the greatSir Boyle Roche. These unhappy men had been divested of their lastgrievance, stripped of their burning wrongs, heartlessly robbed oftheir long-cherished injuries. It was bad enough before, when Irishmenhad nothing except grievances, but at least they had these, handeddown from father to son, from generation to generation, along with thefamily physiognomy, two precious, priceless heirlooms, remarkable asbeing the only hereditary possessions upon which the brutal Saxonfailed to cast his blood-shot, covetous eye. And now the grievancesare taken away, the _Lares_ and _Penates_ of the farmer's cabin areruthlessly removed, and the melancholy peasant looks around for theimmaterial antiquities bequeathed by his long-lost forefathers. "Ah;don't the days seem lank and long, When all goes right and nothinggoes wrong, And isn't our life extremely flat, When we've nothingwhatever to grumble at. " The Irish farmer is with the poet, who hitshis harrowing anguish to a hair. He folds his hands and looks about, uncertain what to do next. His rent has been lowered by 35 per cent. , he has compensation for improvements, fixity of tenure, and may borrowmoney to buy the land outright at a percentage, which will amount toless than his immortal Rint. What is the unhappy man to do? Hisgrievances have been his sole theme from boyhood's happy days, thebasis of his conversation, his actuating motive, the very backbone ofhis personal entity. Now they are gone, the fine gold has become dim, and the weapons of war have perished. Once he could walk abroad withthe proud consciousness that he was a wronged man, a martyr, a bravepatriot struggling nobly against the adverse fates, a broth of a boy, whose melancholy position was noted by the gods, and whose manlybearing under proffered slavery established a complete claim to highconsideration in Olympus. But now, with heart bowed down with griefand woe, he walks heavily, and even as a man who mourneth for hismother, over the enfranchised unfamiliar turf. He peeps into thebog-hole, and does not recognise himself. He could pay the rent twiceover, but he hates conventionalities, and would rather keep the money. He is constructed to run on grievances, and in no other grooves, andthe strangeness of his present position is embarrassing. The tenantsof Lord Leitrim, Lord Lifford, and the Duke of Abercorn make nocomplaint of their landlords. On the contrary, they distinctly statethat all are individually kind and reasonable men, and whileattributing their own improved position to the various Land Acts givento Ireland, which leave the actual possessor of the land small optionin the matter, they freely admit that these gentlemen willingly domore than is ordained by any act of Parliament, and that over andabove the provisions of the law, all three are fair-minded men, desirous of doing the right thing by their people and the country atlarge. Other landlords there were on whose devoted heads were breathedcurses both loud and deep. The late Lord Leitrim was exalted to the skies, but his murderedfather was visited with blackest malediction. At Clones, in the CountyMonaghan, I met a sort of roadside specimen of the _AgricolaHibernicus_, who explained his position thus:--"Ye see, we worrayduced 35 per cent. , an' 'tis thrue what ye say; but then produce israyduced 50 per cent. , so we're 15 per cent. Worse off than iver wewor before. We want another Land Act that'll go to the root. An' thatwe'll get from an Oirish Parliament an' only from that. 'Tis not thetinints that's always the worst off. Many's the time I seen thim thathad a farrum of their own go to the dogs, while thim that had rint topay sthruggled and sthrived an' made money an' bought the freeholdersout. For whin they had nothin' to pay they did no work, an' then, bedad ivery mortial thing wint to the divil. An' that's how it'll bewid the lazy ones once we get Home Rule, which means the land fornothin' or next to nothin'. Barney will kick up his heels and roarwhirroo, but call again in a year an' ye'll see he hasn't enough moneyto jingle on a tombstone. " My next from the New Tipperary, whither I journey viâ Kildare, Kilkenny, and Limerick, _en route_ for Cork and the Blood-taxed Kerry, where Kerry cows are cut and carved. Now meditation on maraudingmoonlighters makes melancholy musing mine. Limerick, April 11th. No. 8. --TERRORISM AT TIPPERARY. Tipperary is Irish, and no mistake. Walking into town from Limerickthe first dwellings you reach are of the most primitive description, whether regarded as to sanitary arrangements or otherwise. The groundto the right slopes downwards, and the cabins are built with slopingfloors. The architects of these aboriginal erections stuck up fourbrick walls, a hole in, a hole out, and a hole in the top, withouttroubling to level the ground. Entering, you take a downward step, andif you walk to the opposite exit, you will need to hold on to thefurniture, if any. If you slip on the front step you will fall headfirst into the back yard, and though your landing might be softenough, it would have a nameless horror, far more killing than a stonyfall. The women stand about frowsy and unkempt, with wild Irish eyes, all wearing the shawl as a hood, many in picturesque tatters, like thecast-off rags of a scarecrow, rags and flesh alike unwashed and ofevil odour. The children look healthy and strong, though some of themare almost _in puris naturalibus_. Their faces are washed once a week;one of them said so, but the statement lacks confirmation, and isopposed to the evidence of the senses. Scenes like these greet thevisitor to Old Tipperary, that is, Tipperary proper, if he enter fromLimerick. The town is said to be old, and in good sooth the dunghillsseem to possess a considerable antiquity. In this matter the Tipperarymen are sentimental enough--conservative enough for anything. AtTipperary, of all places, the brutal Saxon will learn how much hasbeen bequeathed to Irishmen by their mighty forefathers. The eastern side is better. A grand new Roman Catholic church has justbeen built at a cost of £25, 000, and in front of the gildedrailings--for they are gilt like the railings of Paris--were dreadfulold women, like Macbethian witches, holding out their skinny hands foralms. Smartly dressed young ladies, daughters of publicans andshopkeepers, passed in jauntily, took a splash in the holy water, crossed themselves all over, knocked off a few prayers, and trippedmerrily away. The better parts of the town belong to Mr. Smith-Barry, the knock-me-down cabins to Mr. Stafford O'Brien, whose system isdifferent. As the leases fall in the former has modern houses built, while the latter is in the hands of the middlemen, who sub-let thehouses, and leave things to slide. The _laissez-aller_ policy is verysuitable to the genius of the genuine Irish, who may be said to rulethe roost in Tipperary. I interviewed all sorts and conditions of men, but every individualbound me down to closest secrecy. And although nobody said anythingapproaching high treason, their alarm on finding they had ventured toexpress to a stranger anything like their real opinion was verysignificant. The conversations took place last evening, and thismorning before breakfast a young man called on me at the StationHotel, Limerick Junction, three miles from Tipperary, "on urgentbusiness. " "Me father thinks he said too much, an' that ye moight putwhat he said in print, wid his name to it. Ye promised ye wouldn't, an' me father has confidence, but he wishes to remoind ye that there'splinty in Tipperary would curse him for spakin' wid an Englishman, an'that dozens of thim would murther him or you for the price of a pot ofporter. " Another messenger shortly arrived, bearing a letter in whichthe writer said that any mention of his name would simply ruin him, and that he might leave the country at once. And yet these men hadonly said what Englishmen would account as nothing. New Tipperary adjoins the old, to which it is on the whole superior. All the descriptions I have seen of the Land League buildings areuntrue and unfair. Most of them were written by men who never saw theplace, and who paraphrased and perpetuated the original error. It wasdescribed as a "mile or two from Tipperary, " and the buildings werecalled "tumble-down shanties of wood, warped and decaying, alreadyfalling to pieces. " The place adjoins and interlocks with the oldtown; it is not separated by more than the breadth of a street, islargely built of stone, and comprises a stone arcade, which alone costmany thousands. Some of the cottages are of wood, but they look well, are slated, and seem in good condition. The butter mart, a post andrail affair, with barbed wire decorations, is desolate enough, andnearly all the shops are shuttered. Enamel plates with Dillon Streetand Emmett Street still attest the glory that has departed, but theplate bearing Parnell Street escaped my research. The William O'BrienArcade is scattered to the winds, save and except the sturdy stonewalls, which (_à la_ Macaulay's New-Zealander) I surveyed withsatisfaction, sketching the ruins of the structure from a broken benchin Dillon Street. A full and true history of the New Tipperary venture has never beenwritten. As in the present juncture the story is suggestive andinstructive, I will try to submit the whole in a form at once conciseand accurate. The particulars have been culled with great pains frommany quarters and carefully collated on the spot, and may be relied onas minutely exact and undeniable. Everyone admits Mr. Smith-Barry'sclaim to the title of a good landlord, an excellent landlord, one of athousand. Before the _casus belli_ was found by William O'Brien allwas prosperity, harmony, and peace. Mr. Smith-Barry owns about 5, 000acres of land situate in the fat and fertile plain of Tipperary, knownas the Golden Vale, with the best part of the county town itself. Tipperary is a great butter centre. The people are ever driving to thebutter factory, which seemed to be worked in the Brittany way. Donkey-carts driven by women, and bearing barrels of milk, abound onthe Limerick Road. The land is so rich, grand meadows, and heavydairy-ground, that the place prospered abundantly, and was bycommercial men reckoned an excellent place for business. But they havechanged all that. The Tipperary folks were once thought as good asthe Bank of England. Now they dislike to pay anything or anybody. Their delicate sense of _meum_ and _tuum_ is blunted. They take allthey can get, and pay as little as they can. They affect dunghills anddirt, and have a natural affinity for battle, murder, and suddendeath. How did all this come about? First, as to Mr. Smith-Barry's character. The most advancedNationalists, the Fenian papers, the Catholic clergy, all concurred inblessing him. The Roman Catholic Bishop of Cloyne, Canon Hegarty, P. P. , and Tim Healy spoke of him in the character of a landlord inhighest terms. Sir Charles Russell, Tim Harrington, Mr. O'Leary(Chairman of the Clonakilty Town Commissioners, a violentNationalist), and Canon Keller (R. C. ) unanimously agreed that Mr. Smith-Barry must be exempted from the general condemnation of Irishlandlords. They said he was the "kindest of landlords, " and that histenants were "comfortable, respectable, and happy. " They proclaimedhis "generous and noble deeds, " declaring that "there have been nocases of oppression or hardship, and the best and most kindlyrelations have existed. " All these sayings are gathered fromNationalist papers, which would supply thousands of similar character, and up to the time of O'Brien's interference, none of an oppositesort. But, as Serjeant Buzfuz would have said, the serpent was on thetrail, the viper was on the hearthstone, the sapper and miner was atwork. Thanks to the patriot's influence, the Paradise was soon tobecome an Inferno. A Mr. Ponsonby wanted his rents, or part of them. His tenants hadlived rent-free for so long--some of them were seven yearsbehind--that they naturally resented the proposed innovation. Mr. Smith-Barry and others came to Mr. Ponsonby's assistance, and, endeavouring to settle the thing by arbitration, proposed that thelandlord should knock off £22, 000 of arrears, should make reductionsof 24 to 34 per cent. In the rents, and make the tenants absoluteowners in 49 years. This was not good enough. Judge Gibson thought it"extravagantly generous, " but the Tipperary folks resented Mr. Smith-Barry's connection with such a disgracefully tyrannical piece ofbusiness, and, at the instance of William O'Brien, determined to makehim rue the day he imagined it. They sent a deputation to remonstrate, and Mr. Smith-Barry, while adhering to his opinion as to theliberality of the proposition, explained that he was only one of many, and that whatever he said or did would not change the course ofevents. The Tipperary folks required him to repudiate the arrangement, to turn his back on his friend and himself, and--here is the cream ofthe whole thing, this is deliciously Irish--they soberly, seriously, and officially proposed to Mr. Smith-Barry that in addition to the 15per cent. Abatement they had just received on their rent he shouldmake a further remittance of 10 per cent. To enable them to assist thePonsonby tenants in carrying on the war against their landlord, onwhose side Mr. Smith-Barry was fighting. They said in effect, "Youhave given us 3s. In the pound, to which we had no claim; now we want2s. More, to enable us to smash the landlord combination, of which youare the leader. " This occurred in the proceedings of a businessdeputation, and not in a comic opera. Mr. Smith-Barry failed to see the sweet reasonableness of thisdelightful proposition, and then the fun began. O'Brien to the rescue, whirroo! He rushed from Dublin, and told the Tipperary men to pay Smith-Barryno rent. If they paid a penny they were traitors, slaves, murderers, felons, brigands, and bosthoons. If they refused to pay they werepatriots, heroes, angels, cherubim and seraphim, the whole countrywould worship them, they would powerfully assist the Ponsonby folks inthe next county, they would be saviours of Ireland. And besides all this they would keep the money in their pockets. Butthis was a mere detail. The people took O'Brien's advice, withholding Mr. Smith-Barry's rent, keeping in their purses what was due to him, in order that somebody'stenants in the next county might get better terms. Still Mr. Smith-Barry held out, and the Land League determined to make of him aterrible example. He owned most of the town. Happy thought! let theshopkeepers leave his hated tenements. Let their habitations bedesolate and no man to dwell in their tents. The Land League can buildanother Tipperary over the way, the tenants can hop across, and Mr. Smith-Barry will be left in the lurch! The end, it was thought, wouldjustify the means, and some sacrifice was expected. Things would notwork smoothly at first. The homes of their fathers were void; newdunghills, comparatively flavourless, had to be made, the oldaccretions, endeared by ancestral associations, had to be abandoned, and the old effluvium weakened by distance was all that was left tothem. The new town was off the main line of trade and traffic, but itwas thought that these, with the old Tipperary odour, would come intime. Streets and marts were built by the Land League at a cost of£20, 000 or more. The people moved away, but they soon moved backagain. The shopkeepers could do no business, so with bated breath andwhispering humbleness they returned to Mr. Smith-Barry. The mart wasdeclared illegal, and the old one was re-opened. But while theagitation continued, the town was possessed by devils. Terrorism andoutrage abounded on every side. The local papers published the namesof men who dared to avow esteem for Mr. Smith-Barry, or who weresupposed to favour his cause. The Tipperary boys threw bombshells intotheir houses, pigeon-holed their windows with stones, threw blasts ofgun-powder with burning fuses into their homes. They were pitilesslyboycotted, and a regular system of spies watched their goings out andtheir comings in. If they were shopkeepers everything was done toinjure them, and people who patronised them were not only placed onthe Black List but were assaulted on leaving the shops, and theirpurchases taken by violence and destroyed. Broken windows and threatsof instant death were so common as to be unworthy of mention, and thehundred extra armed policemen who were marched into the town wereutterly powerless against the prevailing rowdyism of the Nationalistparty. Honest men were coerced into acting as though dishonest, andone unfortunate man, who had in a moment of weakness paidhalf-a-year's rent, pitifully besought Mr. Smith-Barry's agent to suehim along with the rest, and declared he would rather pay it overagain than have it known that the money had been paid. "Ye can pay ayear's gale for six months, but ye can't rise again from the dead, "said this pious victim to circumstances. At last the leaders were prosecuted, but before this the Boys hadgreat divarshun. These good Gladstonians, these ardent Home Rulers, these patriotic purists, these famous members of the sans-shirtSeparatist section, set no limits to their sacrifices in the GoodCause, stuck at nothing that would exemplify their determination tobring about the Union of Hearts, were resolved to take their lightfrom under a bushel and set it in a candlestick. They wrecked manyhouses and sorely beat the inmates. They burnt barns, and stacks, andhomesteads, and in one case a poor man's donkey-cart with its load ofoats. They exploded in people's homes metal boxes, leaden pipes, andglass bottles containing gun-powder, in such numbers as to be beyondreckoning. They burnt the doors and window sashes of the empty houses, knocked people down at dark corners with heavy bludgeons, and firedshots into windows by way of adding zest to the family hearth. PoorJohn Quinlan escaped five shots, all fired into his house. Mr. Bell, of Pegsboro, beat this record with six. He was _believed_ tosympathise with Mr. Smith-Barry! Men with white masks pervaded thevicinity from the gentle gloaming till the witching morn, and woe tothe weak among their opponents, or even among the neutrals, whom theymight meet on their march! The tenants were great losers. A commercial man from Dublin assured methat the agitation cost him £2, 000 in bad debts. The people wereinconvenienced, unsettled, permanently demoralised, their peacefulrelations rudely interrupted, themselves and their commercialconnections more or less discredited and injured, and the wholeprosperous community impoverished, by the machinations of O'Brien andBishop Croke of Thurles, a few miles away. The inferior clergy were ofcourse in their element. Father Humphreys and others were notoriousfor the violence of their language. Gladstonians who think Home Ruleheralds the millennium, and who babble of brotherly love, should notethe neat speech of good Father Haynes, who said, "We would, if wecould, pelt them not only with dynamite, but with the lightnings ofheaven and the fires of hell, till every British bulldog, whelp, andcur would be pulverised and made top-dressing for the soil. " This isthe feeling of the priests, and the people are under the priestlythumb. That this is so is proved by recent events in Dublin. None butthe Parnellites could make head against the Catholic Party. In therecent conflict the Parnellites were squelched. Tim Healy kicked andbit, but Bishop Walsh got him on the ropes, and Tim "went down toavoid punishment. " The priest holds Tim in the hollow of his hand. Timand his tribe must be docile, must answer to the whistle, must keep toheel, or they will feel the lash. Should they rebel, theirconstituencies, acting on priestly orders, will cast them out asunclean, and their occupation, the means by which they live, will begone. Tim and his congeries hate the clerics, but they fear theflagellum. They loathe their chains, but they must grin and bear them. They have no choice between that and political extinction. The opinion of Tipperary men on the question of religious tolerationis practically unanimous. Pass Home Rule and the Protestants mustperforce clear out. As it is, they are entirely excluded from anyelective position, their dead are hooted in the streets, their funeralservices are mocked and derided by a jeering crowd. The other day aman was fined for insulting the venerable Protestant pastor ofCappawhite, near Tipperary, while the old man was peacefullyconducting the burial service of a member of his congregation. Fouloaths and execrations being meekly accepted without protest, a moreenterprising Papist struck the pastor with a sod of turf, for which hewas punished. But, returning to our muttons, let me conclude withthree important points: (1) Mr. Smith-Barry built the Town Hall of Tipperary at a cost of£3, 000, and gave the use thereof to the Town Commissioners fornothing. He spent £1, 000 on a butter weigh-house, £500 on a marketyard, and tidied up the green at a cost of £300. He gave thirty acresof land for a park, and the ground for the Catholic Cathedral. Heoffered the land for a Temperance Hall (I think he promised to buildit), on condition that it was not used as a political meeting-house. The Catholic Bishop declined to accede to this, and the project wasabandoned. (2) Several dupes of the Land League, for various outrages, weresentenced to punishment varying from one year's hard labour to sevenyears' penal servitude. (3) O'Brien, M. P. , and Dillon, M. P. , who had brought about thetrouble, were with others convicted of conspiracy, and were sentencedto six months' imprisonment. But this was in their absence, for soonafter the trial commenced, being released on bail, they ran away, putting the salt sea between themselves and their deservings. Heroesand martyrs of Ireland, of whom the brutal Briton hears so much, receive these patriots into your glorious company! The spirit of Tipperary is ever the same. No open hostility now, butthe fires of fanaticism are only smouldering, and only a breath isneeded to revive the flame. Every Protestant I saw, and all theintelligent and enlightened Catholics, concur that this is so, andthat Home Rule would supply the needful impulse. These men also submitthat they understand the matter better than Mr. Gladstone and hispatch-work party. Tipperary April 12th. No. 9. --TYRANNY AND TERRORISM. The peasantry and small shopkeepers of this district can only becaptured by stratagem, and this for two reasons. Their nativepoliteness makes them all things to all men, and their fear ofconsequences is ever before them. Their caution is not the Scotsman'singrained discretion, but rather the result of an ever-present fear. English working men of directly opposite politics chum together ingood fellowship, harbouring no animosity, agreeing to differ in afriendly way. It is not so in Ireland. The Irish labourer isdifferently situated. He dare not think for himself, and to boldlyspeak his mind would mean unknown misfortunes, affecting the libertyand perhaps the lives of himself and those nearest and dearest to him. That is, of course, assuming that his opinions were not approved bythe village ruffians who watch his every movement, of whom he standsin deadly terror, and whom he dreads as almost divining his mostsecret thoughts. A direct query as to present politics would fail inevery case. As well try to catch Thames trout with a bent pin, orshoot snipe with a bow and arrow. My plan has been to lounge aboutbrandishing a big red guide-book, a broad-brimmed hat, and an Americanaccent; speaking of antiquities, shortest roads to famous spots, occasionally shmoking my clay dhudeen with the foinest pisantry in thewurruld and listening to their comments on the "moighty foine weatherwe're havin', Glory be to God. " They generally veer round to theuniversal subject, seeking up-to-date information. Discovering myignorance of the question, they explain the whole matter, incidentallydisclosing their own opinions. The field workers of this district arefairly intelligent. Most have been in England, working as harvesters, and some of the better-informed believe that in future they will becompelled to live in England altogether. A fine old man, living by the roadside near Oolagh, said:--"I wint toEngland for thirty-four years runnin', and to the same place, in NorthStaffordshire, first wid father, thin wid son. Whin I got too ould an'stiff I sent me own son. First it was old Micky, thin it was youngMicky. He's away four months, and brings back enough to help us thro'the winter, thanks be to God. The other time he mostly works at thebig farrum beyant there. Whin they cut up the big farrums into littleones, nayther meself nor Micky will get anything, by raison we'redacent, harmless people. 'Tis the murtherin' moonlighters will get theland, an' me son wouldn't demane himself by stoppin' in the counthryto work for them. First 'twas the landlords dhrove us away, next'twill be the tenants. We're bound to be slaughtered some way, although 'twas said that when we 'bolished the landlords we'd end ourtroubles. But begorra, there's more ways o' killin' a dog than bychokin' him wid butther. " There is a growing feeling among the farmersthat the land will be heavily taxed to raise revenue, and that thismeans expatriation to the labouring classes, who will swarm to Englandin greater numbers than ever. Another grand old man, named Mulqueen, spoke English imperfectly, andit was only by dint of frequent repetition that his meaning could bemastered. Well clothed and well groomed, he stood at his cottage door, the picture of well-earned repose. Thirty-two years of constabularyservice and twenty-one years in a private capacity had brought him toseventy-five, when he returned to end his days on his native spot, among Irish-speaking people, and under the noble shadow of the GalteeMountains. Divested of the accent which flavoured his rusty English, Mr. Mulqueen's opinions were as follows:-- "I am a Home Ruler and I voted for a Nationalist. But I am nowdoubtful as to the wisdom of that course. I see that Irishmen quarrelat every turn, that they are splitting up already, that the countryunder their management would be torn to pieces, that the people wouldsuffer severely, and that England would have to interfere to keep ourleaders from each other's throats. It was Irish disputes that broughtthe English here at first. In the event of an Irish Legislature Irishdisagreements would bring them here again. We'll never be able togovern ourselves until the people are more enlightened. " I left thissensible and truly patriotic Irishman with the wish that there weremore like him. He was a pious Catholic, and regretted to learn that Iwas otherwise, admitting in extenuation that this was rather amisfortune than a fault, and, with a parting hand-shake, expressing anearnest hope that "the golden gates of glory might open to receive mysowl, and that we might again convarse in the company of the blessedsaints in the peaceful courts of heaven. " This old-fashioned piouskindliness is hardly now the mode, and isolated instances can rarelybe met with even in remote country districts. Running down to Limerick, I witnessed a warm contention between aUnionist from Belfast and a commercial traveller from Mullingar, a hotHome Ruler, the latter basing his arguments on alleged iniquitoustreatment of his father, a West Meath farmer, and defending boycottingas "a bloodless weapon, " which phrase he evidently consideredunanswerable. The Land League he contended was a fair combination toprotect the interests of the tenants, and avowed that all evictionswere unwarrantable acts of tyranny. The Belfast man showed that thesearguments were equally applicable to the other side, and asked thepatriot if eviction were not likewise "a bloodless weapon, " to whichinquiry the Mullingar man failed to find the proper answer, and, notcoming up to time, was by his backers held to have thrown up thesponge. This incident is only valuable as showing the poor line ofcountry hunted by the more brainy Nationalists. A County Clare manboasted of his collection of Irish curiosities. "I have the pistolO'Connell shot So-and-So with, I have the pistol Grattan used when hemet Somebody else, I have the sword of Wolfe Tone, the pike that MilesO'Flanagan--" Here the Ulsterman broke in with-- "Excuse me, Sir. There's one thing I'd like to see if ye have it. Likeyou, I am a pathriotic Irishman, and take deloight in relicsappertaining to the histhory of me counthry. Tell me now, have ye thehorsewhip, the thunderin' big horsewhip, that young McDermot, ofThrinity College, used when he administhered condign punishment to TimHealy? Have ye that, now?" The County Clare man was completely knocked out. He discontinued therecital of his catalogue, and surveyed the scenery in dignifiedsilence. His own friends chuckled. This was the most unkindest cut ofall. Irishmen love to see a splendid knockdown blow. They are full offight, and their spirit must have vent. They fight for fun, for love, for anything, for nothing, with words, with blows, with tongues, withblackthorns, anywhere, anyhow, only let them fight. Remove Mr. Bull, they will fight each other. Heaven help the right when nobody standsby to see fair play! A Mr. Magrath, of Killmallock, was inclined to take a jocose view ofthe situation. "Faix, the English could never govern Ireland, an'small blame to thim for that same. Did ye see the Divil's BitMountains as ye came down from Dublin? Ye did? Av coorse, ye couldn'thelp but see them. Did ye see the big bite he tuk out o' the range--yecan see the marks o' the divil's own teeth, an' the very shape of hisgums, divil sweep him! Shure, I seen it meself whin I wint to theCurragh races wid Barney Maloney; an' by the same token, 'twas Barneyaxplained it to me. Didn't the divil take his bite, an' then didn't hedhrop it on the plain out there forninst ye, the big lump they callthe rock iv Cashel? Av coorse he did. An' if the divil himself foundIreland too hard a nut to crack, how can the English expect to manageus? Anyway, 'tis too big a mouthful for Misther Bull. " One gentlemanstood at his shop door, and having looked carefully around, said, "Yeniver know who ye're spakin' wid, an' ye niver know who's spyin' ye. Ah, this is a terrible counthry since we all got upset wid this HomeRule question. Did ye hear of Sadleir, of Tipperary? Ye didn't? He wasa savin', sthrivin' man, an' he married a woman wid money. He had afoine shop, wid ploughs, an' sickles, an' spades for the wholecounthry round. 'Twas a grand business he had, an' he made a powerfuldale o' money. He was a quiet man, an' niver wint to the whiskeyshops, where the boys they would be quarrellin' an' knockin' hell outiv each other. He introduced a timprance lecturer that towld the boysthe poteen was pizenin' thim, an' 'twas wather they must dhrink. Ha!Ha! Will I tell ye what owld Sheela Maguire said to the timpranceman?" I admitted a delirious delight in discursive digression. "The timprance man had a wondherful glass that made iverything athousand million times as big. What's this he called it? Ye're right, 'twas a my-cross-scrope; ye hit it to a pop; bedad 'tis yerself hasthe larnin. ' An' the people looked through it at the wather he put ina glass, an' they seen the wather all swimmin' wid snakes an'scorpions; 'twas enough to terrify the mortal sowl out o' ye. An' soSheela looked in an' saw them. An' the man put in the wather a gooddhrop o' whiskey, an' he says, says he, 'Now ye'll see the effect onanimal life, ' says he. An' Sheela looked in again, an' she seen thesnakes all doubled up, an' kilt, an' murthered an' says Sheela, saysshe:-- "'May the divil fly away wid me, ' says she, 'if I ever touch watheragain till I first put in whiskey to kill them fellows!' "'Twas poor Sadleir, of Tipperary town, brought the man down. Sadleirmust howld land; nothin' less would sarve him, an' he tuk fromSmith-Barry a big houldin', an' paid the out-going tenant fivethousand pounds for his interest. Whin the throubles began he refusedto join the Land League, by raison that he'd put all his money in theland. They sent him terrible letthers wid skulls an' guns, an'coffins, an' they said Will ye join? An' he said No, once. Theysmashed ivery pane o' glass in his house, an' they said Will ye join?An' he said No, twice. They bate his servants next, an' said Will yejoin? An' he said No, three times. They threw explosives into thehouse, an' said Will ye join? An' he broke down. He was afeard for hislife. He wint in wid the rest, an' refused to pay rint', an' iv coorsehe got evicted, an' lost his five thousand pounds he put into thefarm, an' then he lost his business, an' before long he died with abroken heart. An' where did he die? Just in the workhouse. 'Twas allthro' William O'Brien, the great frind iv Oireland, that thishappened. An' if O'Brien an' his frinds got into power, why wouldn'tit happen again? But we're afeard to breathe almost in thisunfortunate counthry, God help us!" Amid the varying opinions of the Irish people there is one point onwhich they are unanimous. They have no confidence in their presentleaders, whom they freely accuse of blackguardism, lying, and flagrantdishonesty. Business men, although Home Rulers, agree that thedestinies of the country should not be trusted to either or any of thejarring factions, which like unclean birds of evil omen hover darklingaround, already disputing with horrid dissonance possession of thecarcase on which they hope to batten. At the Station Hotel, LimerickJunction, a warm Nationalist said to me, "The country will be ruinedwith those blackguards. We have a right to Home Rule, an abstractright to manage our own affairs, and I believe in the principle. But Iwant such men as Andrew Jameson, or Jonathan Hogg, or that otherQuaker, Pym, the big draper. There we have honourable gentlemen, whomwe or the English alike might trust, either as to ability orintegrity. We might place ourselves in the hands of such men and closeour eyes with perfect confidence. Our misfortune is that our men, as awhole, are a long way below par. They inspire no confidence, theycarry no weight, and nobody has any respect for them. " Here my friendmentioned names, and spoke of an Irish M. P. 's conduct at Sligo. I givehis story exactly as I heard it, premising that my informant's _toutensemble_ was satisfactory, and that he assured me I might rely on hiswords:--"At the Imperial Hotel a discussion arose--a merely politicaldiscussion--and blows were exchanged, the 'honourable gentleman' andothers rolling about the floor like so many savage bull dogs in aregular rough-and-tumble fight. The poor 'boots' got his face badlybruised, and for some days went about in mourning. I see that thissame member is bringing in a Bill in the House of Commons, and I readit through with great interest, because I remembered the row, whichwas hushed up, and never appeared in the papers. Imagine any Irishman, with any respect either for himself or his country, trusting either toa parcel of fellows like that. " My friend spoke more moderately of the objectionable Irish M. P. 's thanthey do of each other, but his opinions were obviously strong enoughfor anything. The attitude of the _Freeman's Journal_ moved him tocontempt, and its abject subjection to the priesthood excited hisdisgust. He said, waving the despised sheet with indignity--"We haveno paper now. We lost all when we lost Parnell. He was a Protestant, and could carry the English people, and with all his faults he had thetraining of a gentleman. Look at the low-bred animals that representus now. Look at Blank-Blanky and his whole boiling. I swear I amashamed to look an Englishman in the face. The very thought of theIrish members makes me puke. " The mention of Mr. Jonathan Hogg reminds me that this eminent Dublinersubmitted to me a point which I do not remember to have seen in print. Said Mr. Hogg: "When the Irish Legislature has become an accomplishedfact, which is extremely improbable, the land will be divided andsub-divided until the separate holdings will yield incomes below theamount required for the payment of income-tax. The effect of this willbe that a large number of incomes now paying tax will disappear, eachleaving a number of small incomes paying no tax, so that a larger taxmust be levied on the remaining incomes to meet the deficiency. Thenthe large manufacturers who can move away will certainly do so, andthe country will suffer severely. Employment will be scarce oraltogether lacking, and the people will go to England, by theircompetition lowering the rate of wage. " The mention of Mr. AndrewJameson reminds me of his opinion _re_ Customs. He said to me "Thebill nominally deprecates Separation, and yet proposes to establish aCustom House between the two countries, making Ireland a foreigncountry at once. " Mr. John Jameson, who was present along with Mr. Arundel, the business manager of the great J. J. Concern, thenexpressed his fears anent the practicability of Customs' collectionson the Irish coast. He said, "We have 1, 300 coastguards at present, and this force is ample when backed by the Royal Irish Constabulary, marching and patrolling in the interior. But when the constabulary areno longer engaged in the direct protection of British interests thelittle force of thirteen hundred coastguards must prove quiteinsufficient, and I doubt if even thirteen thousand would prove anadequate force. The Irish people will have no interest in protectingthe British Government. Their interest will be exactly the other way. Grave difficulties attend the proposition having regard to the Customsduties between the two countries. " Another eminent authority thenpresent referred to the encouragement which the Act would give to theenterprising smuggler, and thought that a small fleet of Americansteamers, smart built, fast little boats, would instantly spring intoexistence to carry on a splendidly paying trade--a trade, too, havinguntold fascination for the Yankees, while the average Irishman, aseverybody knows, is a smuggler by nature, disposition, heredity, anddivine right. It was also pointed out that, whereas huge quantities ofspirits now pass to Ireland through the ports of Bristol and London, under the new dispensation Irish merchants would order direct, whichwould inflict loss on England. The details of this loss were fullyexplained, but I omit them for the reason that experts willunderstand, while lay readers may safely accept a statement uttered inthe presence of the two Jamesons and receiving their assent. But my friend's conversation reminded me of something more, and Iremembered a little story I heard in Dublin respecting a dailydisseminator of priest-ordered politics. It owed some rent for thepremises it occupies on the thymy banks of the odorous Liffey. Itowed, I say, for owing, not paying, is the strong suit of the party itrepresents. It was pressed to pay, coaxed to plank down, soothered toshell out. A registered letter with premonitory twist of the screw"fetched" the patriot laggards. They or "It" paid up, but failed tolook pleasant. In his hurry the glad recipient of the cash gave areceipt up to date instead of up to the time the rent was due. Theimmaculate organ of highly-rectified morality wished to hold thewriter of the receipt to his pen-slip, to nobble the rent; and beingreproached backed out with:-- "We thought you wanted to give it as a present. " The landlord is astrong Unionist. The rottenness of repudiation is spreadingeverywhere. Lying and theft, under other names, would be, the dominantinfluences under the new _régime_. But it may be objected--If Irishmenhave no respect for their members, why did they elect them? If theyobject to Home Rule, why did they vote for it? And so on, and so on. These queries at first blush seem unanswerable, but they are notreally so. Attentive readers of later letters will discover the reasonwhy. Further, it may be remarked, in passing, that questions are moreeasily asked than answered. Here is an instance. The facts areundeniable, staring us in the face:-- The base and bloody Balfour, unaccompanied by men who have been calledhis black and brutal bloodhounds, moves about in Ireland unmolested, with no other protection than that of his sister. The bright and brilliant O'Brien, the purist-patriot, visiting theconstituency of which he is the senior member, is with difficultyprotected by a powerful force of the police he has so often affectedto despise. Other Nationalist members dare not appear in Nationalist quarters. Howis this? To return to the objections given above. Since the appearance of thebill, Irishmen have been changing their minds. Day by day they dreadit more and more. They still believe that under certain conditionsHome Rule would be a good thing for Ireland. But they begin to seethat the required conditions do not exist. They begin to see that theyhave been used by such men as O'Brien and Healy, they see theincompetency which has reduced the party paper to so low an ebb, theysee the misery and degradation which the Land League inflicted on theonce thriving districts of Tipperary; they saw their neighbours, poor, unlettered men, dupes of unscrupulous lying eloquence, men whom it wasmurder to deceive--they saw these men sentenced to long terms of penalservitude, while the instigators of the crimes for which they hadsuffered, availing themselves of the liberal English law, broke theirbail, and, travelling first-class to Paris, lived in the best hotelsof that gay city on the plunder they had wiled from ignorant servantgirls, being clothed in purple and fine linen, and faring sumptuouslyevery day, while their friends the felons trod the tireless wheel andthe housemaids went on with their scrubbing. The Irish people have seen these things and many more, and, as theFrench say, they have reflected. A very considerable proportion of thelower classes have already changed their minds, but--they dare not ownit. So the process of education is comparatively slow. A small farmersaid to me, "Not an hour's walk from here, a small tinant like meselfwas suspicted to be a thraitor to the cause. He was a sthrivin' man, an' he had really no politics, an' only wanted to get lave to work hisland, an' earn his bit an' sup. "He had two sthrappin' daughters, as nice, dacent young girls as ye'dsee in a summer's day. They were seen spakin' to a pliceman--that wasall they done--an' four men came that night, four ruffians wid whitemasks, an' havin' secured the father, they dhragged the young girlsout of bed at the dead hour, an' stripped them to the skin. Thin theycut off their hair close wid a knife, the way ye'd cut corn, an'scarified their bodies wid knives. Would ye wondher we're careful?" I asked him whether a Protestant could in his district hope to beelected to any public position, the Board of Guardians for instance(he was a good Catholic). His answer was an unqualified No. Then hetook time, and shortly proposed the following statement of theposition, which I present on account of its gem-like finish:-- "I wouldn't say but they'd put on a Protestant av he paid for it bysettlin' wid the priest that for certain considerations he would becontint wid a seat on the boord. An' thin he must renounce hispolitical ideas, or promise never to mintion thim in public. But, begorra, he'd have to sell his birthright for a mess of pottage bymakin' a decoy duck of himself!" In adding this great specimen to the immortal list of memorable mixedmetaphors, I feel that my visit to Ireland has not been quite in vain. Oolagh, (Co. Tipperary), April 15th. No. 10. --DEFYING THE LAND LEAGUE. "Burn everything English except English coals. " That was the firstsentiment I heard in "rebel Cork, " and it certainly expresses thedominant feeling of the local Nationalist party, who do not seem tohave heard of the proposed Union of Hearts, or, if they have heard, they certainly have not heeded. Nor will anyone who knows for onemoment assert that the Corkers entertain the idea. My hotel is ahotbed of sedition. It is the southern head-quarters of the Parnelliteparty. The spacious entrance hall is a favourite resort of the leadingCork Nationalists, who air their views in public with much excitedgesture, having its basis in whiskey-nourished hatred of English rule. They walk to the bar, suck in the liquid bliss, and return to the spotwhence they may look upon the beauteous promenaders of Patrick Street. They prefer the kaleidoscopic change of the streets to the stationarybeauty of the bar, and while admitting the unfleeting quality of thefixed stars they worship the procession of the equinoxes. On Saturdaylast, the day O'Brien died, the Mayor of Cork, with Mayoral chain andhosts of satellites, might have been seen under the familiar portal, discussing the proposed public funeral of the lamented friend, onceMayor of the City, and described as "a gentleman who had, by hiscourageous and outspoken utterances, obtained the distinguished honourof imprisonment by the British Government. " Particulars were notgiven, as the first two incarcerations occurred under Forster andTrevelyan. The third, under Balfour, was a term of fourteen days forassaulting a policeman. The Corporation discussed the patriot's meritswithout descending to detail. Outside, the newspaper boys were yelling"Arrest of Misther Balfour-r-r, " but the Corporation were no buyers. The populace might be taken in, but official Cork know it was the"wrong 'un, " and clave to its hard-earned pence. Public opinion here is much the same as in Dublin, only hotter. Respectable people who have anything to lose are, if possible, moreseriously alarmed. The lower classes are, if possible, more bitter, more implacable in their animosity to everything English. Nevertheless, the feeling against Home Rule is assuredly gainingground, even among the most ardent Nationalists. The great meeting oflast Wednesday showed what the Unionists could do, how they couldcrowd a great platform with the intelligence of the country, and filla great hall with the Unionist rank and file. The Loyalists haveastonished themselves. They knew not their own strength. Now they aretaking fresh heart, determined to hold out to extremity. TheSeparatists--for the Corkers are Separatists _au naturel_--aresomewhat disconcerted, and try to minimise the effect of the meetingby sneering and contumely; but it will not do. They affect hilarity, but their laughter is not real. Perhaps nothing shows the shallownessof men more than the tricks they think sufficient to deceive. And thenthe leaders are accustomed to a credulous public. The place iseminently religious. Cork is the Isle of Saints--with a port and agarrison to enhance its sanctity. At certain seasons a big trade isdone in candles, on which names are written, which being blessed andburnt have powerful influence in the heavenly courts. It costs atrifle to hallow the tallow, but no matter. A friend has seen a muddylittle well, which is fine for sore eyes. Offerings of old bottles andlittle headless images were planted around, but the favourite gift wasa pin, stuck in the ground by way of fee. Jolly Mr. Whicker, ofDublin, who represents three Birmingham houses, saw Father McFadden, of Gweedore, waving his hat when in custody. A policeman insisted thatthis should cease, when a man in the crowd said to Mr. Whicker:-- "Arrah, now, look at the holy man. He puts on his hat widout a wurrud, whin he could strike the man dead wid jist sayin' a curse. 'Tis a goodsaint he is, to go wid the police, whin if he sthretched out his handhe could wither thim up, an' bur-rn thim like sthraws in the blazin'turf!" These people have votes, and to a man support the Nationalist party. It is proposed to place Ireland under a Government governed by thesegood folks, who are in turn governed by their sacred medicine-men. A member of the firm of Cooke Brothers, a native of Cork, in businessin this city fifty years, said:-- "There can be no doubt that the bill means ruin for Ireland, andtherefore damage to England. The poor folks here believe the mostextravagant things, and follow the agitators like a flock of sheep. They are undoubtedly wanting in energy. We have the richest land inIreland, wonderful pastures that turn out the most splendid cattle inthe world, big salmon rivers, a most fruitful country, a land flowingwith milk and honey. As the rents are judicially fixed there can be noground for complaint, but the people will not help themselves. Whetherit is in the climate I cannot say, but I must reluctantly admit--andno one will gainsay my statement--that the people of the South, to putit mildly, are not a striving sort. "They want somebody else to do something for them. They get on a stickand wait till it turns to a horse before they ride. No Act ofParliament will help them, for they will not help themselves. "Look at the magnificent country you saw from Dublin to this city. Compare it with the black and desolate bogs of Ulster, and then askyourself this question--How is it that the Ulster people, with farworse land, worse harbours, worse position, and having the same laws, are prosperous and content to have no change? If the Northerns andSoutherns would swop countries, Ireland must develop into one of themost prosperous countries in the world. The Ulster men aretremendously handicapped as against the Munster folks, but--they areworkers. Some say that if they were here the climate would enervatethem, but I do not find that my experience countenances thissupposition. Fifty years ago all the leading merchants and tradesmenof Cork were Catholics. It is not so now. What does that prove? Iwithhold my own opinion. "The Southerners are better fixed than the Ulstermen, but they areidle, and--this is very important--extremely sentimental. " An avowed Nationalist, one Sullivan, completely bore out this laststatement. "We want to manage our own business, and be ruled byIrishmen. You say in England that we shall be poor, and so we may, butthat is no argument at all. It might influence a nation ofshopkeepers, but it has no weight with Irishmen, who have a proper andcreditable wish to make their country one of the nations of the world. The very servant girls feel this, and the poorest peasant woman nowhaving what she calls a 'tay brakefast' is willing to go back toporridge if the country was once rid of the English. Never you mindwhat will happen to us. Cut us adrift, and that will be all we ask. Ifwe need help we can affiliate with America or even France. The firstis half our own people, the second understands the Irish nation, whichfought for centuries in the French armies, and, under Marshal Saxe, anIrishman, routed the English at Fontenoy. " This gentleman was civiland moderate in tone, but he did not promise to walk down the agesarm-in-arm with England, attesting eternal amity by exchanging smokesand drinks. "We'll be very glad to see the English as tourists, " hesaid. "And they will have to behave themselves, too, " he added, reflectively. A large trader of Patrick Street has most serious misgivings as to theeffect of the bill. He said:-- "I had just been over to England to make purchases. Arriving here, Ifound the bill just out. I read it, and at once cancelled half myorders. We are reducing stock. What Home Rule would do for us I cannotcontemplate. The mere threat amounts to partial paralysis. What theCork people want with Home Rule is beyond me. They have everything intheir own hands. The city elections of all kinds are governed by therural voters of five miles round. Wealth and commercial capital arecompletely swamped by these obedient servants of the priests. Mr. Gladstone talks of an Upper House, with a £20 qualification. Why, thequalification for the Grand Jury is £40. Many of the twenty-poundersround here cannot read or write, and yet they will be qualified forthe Irish House of Lords. A customer came up and said:--"Gladstone wants to hand the capital andcommerce of this country to men like Tim Healy, who expects to bePrime Minister, and who will succeed, if the bill passes and he caneat priestly dirt enough. I knew where he was reared in Waterford, ina little tripe and drischeen shop. " I rose to a point of order. Would the honourable member now addressingthe House kindly explain the technical term "drischeen shop?""Certainly. The drischeen is a sort of pudding, made of hog's bloodand entrails, with a mixture of tansy and other things. Tim would knowthem well for he was reared on them, which accounts for hischaracteristic career. Do you know that the Queenstown TownCommissioners call each other liars, and invite each other to come outand settle it on the landing? Get the _Cork Constitution_, look overthe file, and you'll drop on gems that will be the soul of your nextletter. Don't miss it. And that's the sort of folks Mr. Gladstonewould trust with the fate of England as well as Ireland, for theirfates would be the same. You cannot separate them. The people ofEngland do not seem to see through that. They will have an awfulawakening. And serve them right. They make a pact with traitors; theyoffer their throats to the murderer, and they say, 'Anything to obligeyou. I know you won't hurt us much. ' "The Southern Irish are the most lovable people in the world, with alltheir faults, if they were not led astray by hireling agitators, whoruin the country by playing on the people's ignorance, exciting theCatholic hope of religious domination, and trusting to damage Englandas a great spreader of Protestantism. A lie is no lie if told to aProtestant. To keep a Protestant out of heaven would be a meritoriousaction. And they would readily damage themselves if by doing so theycould also damage England. Englishmen hardly believe this, but everycommercial traveller from an English house knows it is true. " I tested a number of English commercials on this point. All confirmedthe statement above given. Many had been Gladstonians, but now allwere Unionists. None of them knew an English or Scotch commercial who, having travelled in Ireland, remained a Home Ruler. Such a person, they thought, did not exist. Admitted that for business purposes theapparent _rara avis_ might possibly, though not probably, be found, all agreed that no Englishman in his senses, with personal knowledgeof the subject, could over support Home Rule. Two Gladstonians wentfrom Chester to Tipperary to investigate the troubles: both returnedconverted. Six men from a shop-fitting establishment in Birminghamworked some weeks in Dublin: all returned Unionist to the core. Thisfrom Mr. Sibley, of Grafton street, Dublin, in whose splendid shop Imet the Duchess of Leinster, handsomest woman in Ireland, andtherefore (say Irishmen) handsomest in the world. She was buying booksfor Mr. Balfour, who, she said, was a great reader of everythingconnected with Ireland or Irish affairs. Mr. Sibley is a partner ofMr. Combridge, of New street, Birmingham, and is a leading IrishUnionist. Returning to the cancelling of orders, I will add that Mr. Richard Patterson, J. P. , of Belfast, the largest buyer of hardware inIreland, has cancelled very largely, together with two other largefirms, whose names he gave me. You will remember Mr. John Cook, theProtestant Home Ruler, of Derry. His manager, Mr. Smith, has writtenthe Birmingham factor of the house, to omit his usual visit, as thefirm will have no orders for him. A strange comment on Mr. Cook'stheories of confidence. Mr. Cook is an excellent, a high-minded man. He asked me how I would class him among his party. I called him aVisionary in Excelsis. Every self-respecting Saxon visitor to Cork visits the famous castleof Blarney, seven miles away, to see the scenery and kiss the BlarneyStone, the apparent source of Home Rule inspiration. There is a stone there That whoever kisses Och! he never misses To grow eloquent. 'Tis he may clamber To a lady's chamber, Or become a member Of Parliament. A clever spouter He'll sure turn out, or An out-an'-outer To be let alone! Don't hope to hindher him Or to bewildher him-- Sure, he's a pilgrim From the Blarney stone! The walk is delightful, not unlike that from Colwyn Bay to Conway, butmore beautiful still, as instead of the London and North WesternRailway a lovely river runs along the valley on your right. The Corkand Muskerry Light Railway occupies the roadside for the first fourmiles, relic of the beneficent Balfour--winding by the river side forthe rest of the journey, through fat meadows dotted with thrivingkine, and having a background of richly-wooded hills. At Carrickrohaneyour left is bounded by a huge precipitous rock, covered from base tosummit with ivy and other greenery, a great grey building on the verybrink of the abyss, flanked by Scotch firs, peering over theprecipice. A fine stone bridge, garrisoned by salmon-fishers, leads tothe Anglers' Rest, and here I found a splendid character, one DennisMulcahy, who boasted of his successful resistance to the Land League. Having told me of his adventures in America, and how his oyster-barexperiences in the Far West had opened his eyes to the fact that theIrish people were being humbugged, he narrated his return to hisnative land, on his succession to a small farm left him by "an ouldaunt he had. " His language was so forcible and picturesque that Idespair of conveying its effect, more especially as no pen candescribe the rich brogue, which, notwithstanding his two years'residence in the States, was still thick enough to be cut with aknife. Apart from its amusing side, his story has a moral, and may beinstructively applied. "'Twas at Ballina I was, the toime o' the Land Lague. 'Twas thereCaptain Moonlight started from, an' the whole disthrict was shiverin'in their shoes. I refused to subscribe to the Land Lague, an' theystarted to compil me, but, be the powers, they tackled the wrongtom-cat whin they wint to coarce Dennis Mulcahy. Threatenin' letthers, wid pictures o' death's-heads, an' guns, an' pikes, an' coffins, wasbut a thrifle to the way they wint on. But they knew I had a thrifleof a sivin-shooter, an' bad luck to the one o' thim that dared mislistme at all. At last it got abroad that I was to get a batin' widblackthorn sticks, for they wor tired the life out o' them, raisonin'wid me. Well, says I, I'm here, says I, an' the first man that raisesa hand to me, I'll invite him to his own inquist, says I, for, bedad, I'll perforate him like a riddle, says I. Well, it wint on an' on, till one day I was stayin' at a bit of a shebeen outside the place, when a slip o' a girleen kem to me--I was sittin' on a bench in theback garden, the way I'd enjoy my pipe in the fresh air, an', saysshe, 'Get out o' this, for there's a whole crew o' thim inside goingto bate you. ' That was six or seven o' a fine summer's night, an' Iwalked into the house an' took a look at thim--a thievin' heap o'blayguards as iver ye seen wid your two eyes. " "I wint out again an' sat in the haggard, where I could kape my eye onthe dure. Prisintly out comes one o' thim, to commince the row, Isuppose. "He spoke o' the Land Lague, an' I towld him I didn't agree wid it atall, and 'twas a thievin' invintion o' a set o' roguish schamers. "'Ye'd betther mind yer manners, ' says he, 'onless ye have yerrevalver, ' says he, lookin' at me maningly. "Faix, 'tis here, says I, pullin' out the tool. "'But can ye handle it?' says he. "Begorra, says I, I'd shoot a fly off yer nose; an' wid that I lookedround for a mark, an' I seen in a three foreninst me a lump o' a crowsittin' annoyin' me. 'Will ye quit yer dhrimandhru?' says I, to thebotherin' ould rook. "'Caw, caw, caw, ' says he, vexin' me intirely. "Bang! says I, an the dirty blackburd comes fluttherin' down, an'dhropped in the haggard like a log o' limestone. "Ye should have seen that fellow! The landlord wid the whole rout o'thim runs out. 'What's the matter?' says he, starin' round like a sickcod-fish. "'I'm afther charmin' a burd out iv a three; 'tis a way I have, ' saysI, shovin' in a fresh cartridge from my waistcoat pocket, fair an'aisy, an' kapin' me back to the haystack. "'Was it you kilt the jackdaw?' says he. "''Twas meself, ' says I, 'that did it, ' says I. "'An' ye carry a murdherin' thing like that in a paceful counthry, 'says he. ''Tis yer American thrainin' says he, sneerin'. "I tuk off me hat an' giv' him a bow an' a scrape. 'Is it yerselfwould insinse me into the rudiments o' polite larnin'?' says I. Thin Ilooked him straight into the white iv his eye, an' give him the lengtho' my tongue. Me blood was up whin I seen this spalpeen wid his dirtyset o' vagabones waitin' to murther me if they ketched me unbeknownst. 'Michael Hegarty, ' says I, 'where did ye scour up yer thievin' set o'rag-heaps?' says I. 'Ye'd bate me wid blackthorns, would ye? Come on, you and your dirty thribe, till I put sivin shots into yez. Shure Icould pick the eye out o' yez shure I could shoot a louse off yerear, ' says I. 'Anger me, ' says I, 'an' I'll murther the whole parish;raise a stick to me, an' I'll shlaughter the whole counthry side. ' An'wid that I cocked me little shootin'-iron. "Ye should have seen that shebeen-keeper; ye should have seen thewhole o' them whin I raised me voice an' lifted me little Colt! "They tumbled away through the dure, crossin' each other like threesye'd cut down, lavin' the landlord, struck all iv a heap, the mug onhim white as a new twelve-pinny, staggerin' on his two shin-bones, an'thrimblin' an' shiverin' wid fright, till ye'd think he'd shake theteeth out iv his head. "The murdherin' vilyans want shtandin' up to, an' they'll rispict ye. I had no further trouble. That was the last o' thim. 'Tis the wake an'difinceless people they bate an' murther. I heerd there was talk o'shootin' me from the back iv a ditch; an' that one said, 'But av yemissed?' says he. 'What thin?' says he. "Ye should sind ould Gladstone an' Morley an' the other ould women toCarrignaheela till I give them a noggin' o' right poteen an' insinsethim into the way iv it. The only way o' managin' me counthrymin is tobe the masther all out, an' 'tis thrue what I spake, an' sorra one o'me cares who hears me opinion. I'm the only man in the counthry thatdares open his teeth, an' yet they all thrate me well now, an' thepriest invites me to his house. An' all because I spake me mind, an'don't care three thraneens for the whole o' thim. 'Twas in America Ilarned the secret. " Cork, April 20th. No. 11. --THE CRY FOR PEACE AND QUIETNESS. "What's the next place to this?" I asked, as the Southern and WesternRailway deposited me at Tralee. I was uncertain as to whether theplace was a terminus, but the gintleman who dhrove the cyar I hailedmarvelled greatly at my ignorance. He surveyed me from top to toe witha compassionate expression. No doubt he had heard much of theignorance of the uncivilised English, but this beat the record. Notto know that Tralee was on the sea, not to know that the little portfrowned o'er the wild Atlantic main, as Mr. Micawber would have said. He struggled for a moment with his emotion and then said, "Musha, the next parish is Amerikay!" I apologised for my imperfect geographical knowledge, but the cyar-manwas immovable. No pardoning look stole over his big red face, whichwas of the size and complexion of a newly cut ham. Nor would he enterinto conversation with the inquiring stranger. He cursed his horsewith a copiousness which showed his power of imagination, and with aminute attention to detail which demonstrated a superior businesscapacity. Put him in the House amongst the Nationalist members, and heis bound to come to the front. The qualifications above-mentionedcannot fail to ensure success. We have the examples before us, no needto mention names. A hard cheek, a bitter tongue, and a good digestionare the three great steps in the Irish Parliamentary _gradus adParnassum_, the cheek to enable its happy possessor to "snub up" togentlemen of birth and breeding, the tongue to drip gall and venom onall and sundry, the digestion to eat dirt _ad libitum_ and to endurehebdomadal horsewhippings. Such a man, I am sure, was the dhriver ofmy cyar, who may readily be identified. His physiognomy is very likethe railway map of Ireland, coloured red, with the rivers and mountainranges in dark-blue or plum-colour. As a means of ready reference hewould be invaluable in the House of Commons. How interesting to seeMr. Gladstone poring over his cheek (Connaught and Leinster), his jaw(Munster, with a pimple for Parnellite Cork), and his forehead(Ulster, with the eyes for Derry and Belfast). The G. O. M. Would findthe Kerry member invaluable. Like the rest he would probably be devoidof shame, untroubled by scruples, and a straight voter for his side, so long as he was not allowed to go "widout a male. " Who knows butthat, like the Prime Minister's chief Irish adviser, he may even havebeen reared on the savoury tripe and the succulent "drischeen"? All the Tralee folks are shy of political talk. They eye you for along time before they commit themselves, but when once started theycan hardly stop, so warm are they, so intensely interested in thegreat question. Running down the line, a Cork merchant said "The Kerryfolks are decent, quiet folks by nature. Do not believe that thesesimple villagers are the determined murderers they would seem to be. No brighter intellects in Ireland, no better hearts, no morehospitable hosts in the Emerald Isle. They are very superstitious. There you have it all. 'Tis their beautiful ingenuousness that makesthem so easily led astray. What do these simple country folks, livingon their farms, without books, without newspapers, withoutcommunication with large centres--what do they know about intricateState affairs? What can they do but listen to the priest, regarded asthe great scholar of the district, reverenced as almost--nay, quiteinfallible, and credited with the power to give or withhold eternallife? For while in England the people only respect a parson accordingto the esteem he deserves as a man, in Ireland the priestly officeinvests the man with a character entirely different from his own, andcovers everything. These poor folks felt the pinch of hard times, andthe agitators, backed by their Church, saw their opportunity andcommenced to use it. Hence the Kerry moonlighters, poor fellows, fighting in their rude and uncouth way for what they believed to bepatriotism and freedom. They should be pitied rather than blamed, forthey were assuredly acting up to their light, and upon the advice ofmen they had from childhood been taught to regard as wise, sincere, and disinterested counsellors. "Ah me, what terrible times we had in Cork! Belfast may boast, butBelfast is not in it. We were in the centre of the fire. Theshopkeepers of Patrick Street deserve the fullest recognition from theBritish nation. They had to furnish juries to well and truly try themoonlighters of Kerry, Clare, and several other counties. They sat foreight months, had to adjourn over Christmas, and those men returnedtrue bills at the peril of their lives. The venue was changed to Corkfor all these counties, and every man jack of the jury knew full wellthat any day some fanatic friend of the convicted men might shoot orstab him in the street. The loyalty of Belfast is all the talk, but ithas never undergone so severe a test. There the Loyalists have it alltheir own way. Here the Loyalists, instead of being three to one, areonly one to three. The Ulstermen are the entrenched army; the CorkUnionists are the advanced picket. More judges got promotion from Corkthan elsewhere. We changed the barristers' silk to ermine, too. Allthis shows what we went through. Everything is quiet now; Balfourterrified the life out of them, and Captain Moonlight at the mentionof that name would skip like spring-heeled Jack. " The Kerry folks turned out bright as their reputation. It was hard tobelieve that these simple, kindly peasants had ever stained theirbeautiful pastoral country with the bloodiest, cruellest deeds ofrecent times. They have a polite, deferential manner withoutservility, and a pious way of interpolating prayer and thanksgivingwith their ordinary conversation. "Good morning, Sir. " "Good mornin', an' God save ye, Sorr. " "Fine weather. " "'Tis indeed foine weather, glory be to God. " "Nice country. " "Troth, it is a splindid country. The Lord keep us in it. " A prosperous-looking shop with a portly personage at the door lookedso uncommonly Unionistic that I ventured to make a few inquiries _re_the antiquities of the district. The inevitable topic soon turned up, and to my surprise my friend avowed himself a Home Ruler and aProtectionist. His opinions and illustrations struck me asremarkable, and with his permission I record them here. "Yes, I am a Home Ruler--in theory. I think Home Rule would be bestfor both. Best for you and best for me, as the song says; but mark mewell--NOT YET. "You are surprised that I should say Not Yet so emphatically, but thefact is I love my country, and, besides, all my interests and those ofmy children are bound up with the prosperity of the country. Thisought to sharpen a man's wits, if anything could do it, and I have formany years been engaged in thinking out the matter, and my mind is nowmade up. "Home Rule from Gladstone will ruin us altogether. We must have HomeRule from Balfour. We _must_ have Home Rule, but we must have it froma Conservative Government. You smile. Is that new to you? It is? Justbecause Home Rulers in this country cannot afford to express theirviews at this moment. But the hope is entertained by all, I will sayall, the most advanced Irish Home Rulers. By advanced I mean educated, enlightened. Let me give you an illustration which I heard from afriend in Cork. "Here is Ireland, a delicate plant requiring untold watching andcareful training. Around it on the ground are a number of slugs andsnails. Or call them hireling agitators if you like. I sprinkle saltaround the roots to kill off the brutes and save my darling plant. That salt is Conservatism. It is furnished by people of property, bymen who have interests to guard. Salt is a grand thing, let me tellyou! Balfour is the man to sprinkle salt. Home Rule from him would besafe. He is the greatest man that ever governed Ireland, but that mustbe stale to you. You must have heard that everywhere. He put his footon rebellion and crushed it out of existence. On the other hand thepoor folks of the West coast would lie down and let him walk overthem. They hold him in such esteem that they would regard it a favourif he would honour them by wiping his feet on them. He might walkunarmed and unattended through Ireland from end to end with perfectsafety. But which of the Nationalist members could do that? Not one. The city scum, the criminal, irreclaimable class, shout 'Hell toBalfour, ' but these poor readers of the _Freeman's Journal_ andsuch-like prints, prepared for their special use and written down totheir level, must not be classed with the people of Ireland at all. Every country has its ruffian element, every country has its poisonouspress. Ireland is no worse than other countries in these respects. " My Irish Conservative Home Ruler would have gone on indefinitely, furnishing excellent matter, for he improved as he warmed up, butunhappily a priest called on him to make some purchase, and he had toleave me without much notice. "Over the way, " he said. "Trip across tothe opposite shop, and you'll find another Tory Home Ruler. " As I "tripped" across I thought of the Pills and Ointment man whoamassed a colossal fortune by fifty years' advertising of the factthat wonders never will cease. Mr. Overtheway was not quite so Tory asmight be supposed, after all. He said:-- "I have no objection to Home Rule, but, although a Catholic, I havethe greatest objection to Rome Rule, which is precisely what it means. I object to this great Empire being ruled from Rome. The greatestEmpire that the world ever saw to be bossed by a party of priests! Dothe English know what they are now submitting to? "Let me put the thing logically, and controvert me if you can. "If Mr. Gladstone wished to go to war to-morrow, is he not at themercy of the Irish Nationalist party? Could he get votes of supplywithout their aid? In the event of any sudden, or grave emergency, anyserious and critical contingency, would they not hold the key of theposition, would they not have the power to make or mar the Empire?Surely they would. And are not these men in the hands of the priests?Surely they are. That is a matter of common knowledge, as sure as thatwater will drown and fire will burn. A pretty position for a sensibleman like John Bull to be placed in by a blethering idiot, who canargue with equal volubility on either side, but with more convictionwhen in the wrong. Bull must have been drunk, and drunk on stupidbeer, when he placed his heart strings between the finger and thumb ofa quack like that, who, whatever the result, whether we get Home Ruleor not, has ruined the country for five-and-twenty years. "Yes, I am a Home Ruler. But for heaven's sake don't thrustself-government on an unfortunate country that is not ready for it. That country cries for it, you say. The snuffling old air-pump acrossthe Channel says the same thing. Says he: 'Beloved brethren, I greetyou. I fall on your neck and kiss your two ears, and give you all youask. For why, beloved brethren? Why do I this thing. Let us in aspirit of love enquire. Because it is the wish of the country; becauseit is the aspiration of the people; because I feel a deep-seated, internal affection for your beautiful land, in whose affairs, duringmy eighty-four years' pilgrimage in this vale of tears, I have, as youknow, always shown the strongest, the warmest, the most passionateinterest, and on whose lovely shores I have during my seven dozenyears spent (altogether) nearly a week. It has been said that I havenever been in Ulster, and that, therefore, I am unable to appreciatethe situation. An atrocious falsehood. I have spent two hours (nearly)in the northern province, having landed from Sir Somebody's yacht tosee the Giant's Causeway. I have studied the Irish question by meansof mineral specimens gathered from the four provinces, and I am, therefore, competent to settle the Irish question for ever. Do youknow a greater man than myself? I confess I don't. Bless you, mychildren. You ask for Home Rule. Enough. The fact that you ask provesa Divine right to have what you ask for. You are a people rightlystruggling to be free, ' says owld Gladstone. 'Hell to my sowl, ' sayshe, 'but that's what ye are, ' says he. "And he starts to murder us by giving what the most ignorant, unthinking, unpatriotic, self-seeking people in the country have askedfor, and swears that because they ask they must have. "As well give a razor to a baby that cried for it. "Ireland must be treated as an infant. "An Irish Legislature would lead to untold miseries. We might arrivethere some day, but not at a jump. The change is too sudden. We want alittle training. We want to grow, and growth is a thing that cannot beforced. It takes time. Give us time for heaven's sake. Give us HomeRule, but also give us time. Give us milk, then fish, then perhaps achop, and then, as we grow strong, beefsteak and onions. A word inyour ear. This is certain truth, you can go Nap on it. Tell theEnglish people that the people are getting sick of agitation, thatthey want peace and quietness, that they are losing faith inagitators, having before them a considerable stretch of history, which, notwithstanding the scattered population, is filtering downinto the minds of the people, with its morals all in big print. TheIrish folks are naturally quick-witted. They are simple and confiding, many of them very ignorant, if you will, but they find out theirfriends in the long run. Look at Balfour. Not a man in the whole worldfor whom the people have so much affection. Which do you think wouldget the best welcome to-morrow--Balfour or Morley? Balfour a hundredthousand times. Ah, now; my countrymen know the real article when theysee it. Home Rule we want for convenience and for cheapness. We don'twant to be compelled to rush to London before we can build a bridge. But rather a million times submit to expense and inconvenience thanhand the country over to a set of thieves who'd sell us to-morrow. We're not such fools as ye take us for. Don't we know these heroes?And when we see them and Gladstone and Morley and Humbug Harcourt withhis seventeen chins, all rowling together in Abraham's bosom (as yemay say)--Harcourt licking Harrington's boots, when only yesterday Timwas spittin' in his eye--we say to ourselves 'Wait yet awhile, myBoys, wait yet awhile. ' But when ye've finished yer slavering andsplathering, and when Tim Healy can find time to take his heel offMorley's neck, then, and not before, we'll have something to say toyou. "But you should call on my friend on the right. He is also a HomeRuler--like myself. " Number three had powerfully-developed opinions. He said--"Home Rule onConservative lines is my ticket. We'll get it on no other. I consolemyself with that idea. Otherwise it would be a frightful business, andwhat would become of us, I cannot tell. But I do not believe that evenGladstone would be so insane as to give it us. I cannot believe thatthe middle class voters of England would stand by and see thecorresponding class in this country exterminated. Home Rule as much asyou like, if we had the right men. The very poorest peasants arebecoming alive to the fact that under present circumstances the thingwould never do for them. They want the right men, that is, men ofmoney and character, to come forward. And I declare most solemnly, that I am convinced that the Irish people would fall into line, andsee the bill thrown out with perfect quietude. Now the push has come, they really do not want Home Rule, and, what is more, they absolutelydread it, and I firmly believe that a general election at the presentmoment would send a majority of Unionists to power. The priests areworking for life and death. They see that this is their best chance, perhaps their very last opportunity. I am a Catholic; but then I am aParnellite, a Tory Parnellite. And I have no intention of barteringaway my political freedom to my Church, which, in my opinion, shouldkeep clear of politics. The clergy have now advised payment of rent, so that the Government may not be embarrassed at a very criticaljuncture. And the tenants are paying their rent, although the presentperiod is one of great agricultural depression. Look at this: TheUlster farmers are terribly hard up, are complaining that they cannotpay. This is the Protestant province, where the priests have littlescope. But in Leinster, Munster, and Connaught, the people are payingthe landlord. The word has gone round--pay the landlord, whomever elseyou don't pay! The oilcake man, the implement man, the shopkeeper, arenot getting their dues, but notwithstanding the pinch of the presentmoment, the landlord (who knows all about it) is paid. And the priestsin some cases are actually remitting the clerical dues to enable thesmall men to pay the rint. Pay the rint, say they, if you pledge yourvery boots, if you have to go to the gombeen man (money-lender), ifyou have almost to rob the Church. They want to get possession, theywant to get power, they want to get Home Rule; and then they knowthat, as Scripture says, 'All these things shall be added unto them. 'Let them once get the upper hand, and they can very soon recoupthemselves. "The priests are showing England their power, with a view to futuregood bargains. 'You see what we can do, ' say they. Arrange the matterwith us. We are the boys. The Reverend Father O'Codling is the man. Have no dealings, except such as are authorised by us, with thered-headed Tim Healy Short. The Clergy have only one idea; that is, ofcourse, the predominance of their Church. Very natural, and, fromtheir point of view, very proper. I find no fault with them, but I saytheir object hardly commends itself to my undivided admiration, and, being still friendly, we on this subject part company. I wish to letthe priests down easy. They are mostly very good men, apart frompolitics. They are good customers to me, and they pay very promptly. They spend their money in the country, and I'd have no fault to findif they'd lave politics alone. Mind that owld Gladstone doesn't becomea Papist all out. 'Twould be better for him, no doubt, and as thewhole jing-bang that turned round with him before would no doubtstill follow at his heels, we'd get a considerable quantity ofconverts, if we could say little about the quality. D'ye hear whatthat owld woman's singing?" I listened with interest. The minstrelsy of Ireland seems to havedrifted into the hands of the most unpoetical people in the greenisle. The poor old creature walked very, very slowly along the gutter, ever and anon giving herself a suggestive twitch, which plainlyindicated some cutaneous titillation--the South is a grazing country. This was all I heard-- Owld Oireland was Owld Oireland Whin England was a pup. Oireland will be Owld Oireland Whin England's bur-r-sted up! If my friends are right as to the change of feeling _re_ Home Rule, the dear old lady was hardly up to date. But the great author of"Dirty Little England"--I judge of the author by the internal evidenceof sentiment, style, and literary merit--certainly composed the abovebeautiful stanza in the sure and certain hope that the present billwould become law. Number Three qualified his remarks on rent, when speaking of theCounty Clare. "There they embarrass the Government by refusing to pay, and by shooting people in the good old way, just at the most ticklishtime. " He said, "Clare has always been an exceptional county. Clarereturned Daniel O'Connell, by him secured Catholic Emancipation, andfrom that time has called itself the premier county of Ireland. Theyare queer, unmanageable divils, are the Clare folks, and we are onlydivided from them by the Shannon. So the Kerry folks go mad sometimesby contagion. I should advise you to keep away from Clare. You mightget a shot-hole put into you. Every visitor is noticed in those lonelyregions, and the little country towns only serve to disseminate thearrival of a stranger to the rural districts. Suppose you walk fivemiles out of Ennis the day after you arrive there, I would wager apound the first woman that sees you pass her cottage will say, 'That'sthe Englishman that Maureen O'Hagan said was staying at the Queen'sHotel. ' The servants are regular spies, every one of them. I couldn'tspeak politics in my house because I've a Catholic nurse. Good bye, Ihope ye won't get shot. " I thanked him for the interest expressed, but failed to share hisnervousness. After having mingled with the Nationalist crowd thatfollowed the Balfour column in the Dublin torchlight procession, afterhaving escaped unhurt from the blazing Nationalists who swarm in theRoyal Victoria Hotel, Cork, having walked down the Limerick entranceto the balmy Tipperary, a little shooting, more or less, is unworthy amoment's consideration. Besides which, my perpetual journeying andinterviewing and scribbling have made me so thin that CaptainMoonlight himself would be bound to miss. However, it is well to beprepared for the worst, so--_Pax vobiscum_, and away to County Clare. Tralee (Co. Kerry), April 20th. No. 12. --ENGLISH IGNORANCE AND IRISH PERVERSITY. A most enchanting place when you have time to look at it. My flyingvisit of ten days ago gave the city no chance. Let me redeem thiserror, so far as possible. There are two, if not three Limericks inone, a shamrock tripartition, a trinity in unity, --English-town, Irish-town, and New Town Perry. New Limerick is a well-built city, which will compare favourably with anything reasonable anywhere. Muchof it resembles the architecture of Bedford Square, London. The streetsare broad and rectangular, the shops handsome and well furnished. Butit is the natural features of the vicinity which "knock" thesusceptible Saxon. The Shannon, the classic Shannon, sweeps grandlythrough the town, winding romantically under the five great bridges, washing the walls of the stupendous Castle erected by King John, theonly British sovereign who ever visited Limerick--serpentining throughmeadows backed by mountains robed in purple haze, reflecting in itsbroad mirror many a romantic and historic ruin, its banks dotted withsalmon-fishers pulling out great fish and knocking them on the head, its promenades abounding with the handsomest women in the world. Forthe Limerick ladies are said to be the most beautiful in Ireland, andcompetent English judges--I know nothing of such matters--assure methat the boast is justified. Get to Cruise's Royal Hotel, which for ahundred years has looked over the Shannon, take root in its airy, roomyprecincts, pleasant, clean, and sweet, with white-haired servitors likenoble earls in disguise to bring your ham and eggs, Limerick ham, mindyou, which at this moment fetches 114s. Per cwt. In London; and withthe awful cliffs of Kilkee within easy distance, where the angryAtlantic Ocean, dashing with gigantic force against the rock-boundcoast, sends spray two or three miles inland, the falls of Castleconnelwith the salmon-fisheries under your very nose, and the four hoursriver-steamer to Kilrush, with more Cathedrals, statues, antiquities, curiosities, novelties, quaintnesses than could be described in athree-volume novel--do all those things, and, while on your back in thesmoke room, after a hard day's pleasure, you will probably be heard tomurmur that in the general Fall some of us dropped easily enough, andthat, all things considered, Adam's unhappy collapse was decidedlyexcusable. The Limerick folks are said to be the most Catholic people in Ireland. They are more loyal than the Corkers. Why is this? The more Catholic, the more disloyal, is the general experience. Nobody whose opinion isworth anything will deny this, and however much you may wish todissociate religion from politics, you cannot blink this fact. Indealing with important matters, it is useless to march ahair's-breadth beside the truth. Better go for it baldheaded, callingthings by their right names, taking your gruel, and standing by toreceive the lash. You are bound to win in the long run. I say theCatholic priests are disloyal to the Queen. Men of the old school, thefew who remain, are loyal, ardently loyal. The old-timers weregentlemen. They were sent to Douai or some other Continentaltheological school, where they rubbed against gentlemen of broadculture, of extensive view, of perfect civilisation. They returned toIreland with a personal weight, a cultivation, a refinement, whichmade them the salt of Irish earth. These men are still loyal. TheMaynooth men, sons of small farmers, back-street shopkeepers, pawnbrokers, and gombeen men, aided by British gold, these half-bred, half-educated absorbers of eleemosynary ecclesiasticism, are deadlyenemies to the Empire. This is Mr. Bull's guerdon for the Maynoothgrant. My authority is undeniable. The statement is made on theassurance of eminent Catholics. Two Catholic J. P. 's yesterdayconcurred in this, and no intelligent Irish Catholic will thinkotherwise. Surely this consideration should be a factor in argumentsagainst Home Rule. Then why are the Limerick Catholics loyal? Because the Limerick Bishopis loyal. Bishop O'Dwyer is opposed to Home Rule. Said Mr. JamesFrost, J. P. , of George's Street: "When the Bishop first came here heinvited some four hundred Catholics to a banquet at the palace. Afterdinner he proposed the health of the Queen, and all the company savetwo or three rose and received the toast with enthusiasm, waving theirhandkerchiefs and showing an amount of warmth that was most gratifyingto me. I need not tell you that an average Home Rule audience wouldnot have accepted the toast at all. This shows you the feeling of themost intelligent Catholics. The people of education and property areloyal. It shows also that they are opposed to Home Rule. " "But if the best Catholics are opposed to Home Rule, why don't theysay so publicly?" "A fair question, which shall have a precise answer. But first, wemust go back to Mr. Balfour's great Land Act, and the lowering of thefranchise, and observe the effect of these two enactments. "The people were at one time terribly ill-used. That is all over now, but the memory still rankles. The Irish are great people fortradition. The landlords have for ages been the traditional embodimentof tyranny and religious ascendency. The Irish people have longmemories, very long memories. Englishmen would say: 'No matter whathappened to my great-grandfather; I am treated well, and that isenough for me. ' Irishmen still go harping on the landlord, although heno longer has any power. The terrible history of the formerrelationship between landlord and tenant is still kept up andremembered, and will be remembered for ages, if not for ever. Presently you will see the bearing of all this on your question--Whydo not the best Catholics come forward and speak against Home Rule? "When the franchise was lowered the rebound from repression wastremendous, like a powerful spring that has been held down, or like anexplosive which is the more destructive in proportion as it is moreconfined. People newly made free go to the opposite extreme. Emancipate a serf and he becomes insolent, he does not know how to usehis freedom, and becomes violent. The great majority of the people aresmarting from the old land laws, which have left a bitter animosityagainst English rule, which is popularly denounced as beingresponsible for them. "To speak against Home Rule is to associate yourself with the worstaspects of the land question. The bulk of the people are incapable ofmaking a distinction. And while they entertain some respect for aProtestant opponent, they are irreconcilable with Unionist Catholics, just as the English Gladstonians have a far more virulent dislike forthe Liberal Unionists than for the rankest Tories. They say to theProtestants, 'We know why you uphold Unionism'--that is, as theybelieve, landlordism--'for the landlords are English and Protestant;your position is understandable. ' But to the Catholic they say, 'Youare not only an enemy, but a renegade, a traitor, and a deserter. ' Andwhatever that man's position may be, the people can make thingsuncomfortable for him. " Another Catholic living near, said: "'How would Home Rule work?' youask. Most destructively, most ruinously. Under the most favourablecircumstances, whether Home Rule passes or not, the country will notrecover the shock of the present agitation for many a year; not, Ithink, in my lifetime. I was over in the North of England last year, and I found that the people there knew nothing of the question, literally nothing. Clever men, intelligent men, men who had the ear ofthe people, displayed a profundity of ignorance on Irish questions, conjoined with a confidence in discussing them, surpassing belief. They changed their minds on hearing my statements, and on obtainingexact information. I must give them credit for that. I believe theEnglish Gladstonians are only suffering from ignorance. Their leaderis certainly not less ignorant than the bleating flock at his heels. They smugly argue from the known to the unknown on entirely falsepremises. They know that when Englishmen act in this or that way, suchand such things will happen. They know what they themselves would doin certain conjunctures, and when they are told by Irishmen thatIrishmen under similar conditions would act quite differently, theysnort and say 'nonsense. ' They are too dense to appreciate the radicaldifference between the two races. The breeds don't mix and don'tunderstand each other. It was miserable to hear these men--I am surethey were good men--prattling like bib-and-tucker babies about Irishaffairs, and speaking of Gladstone as possessing a quality which weCatholics only ascribe to the Pope. Ha! ha! They think that vain oldcataract of verbiage to be infallible. He knows nothing of the matter, does not understand the tools he is working with, any one of whomcould buy and sell him and simple, clever Morley twenty times over. Both Gladstone and Morley _are_ clever in books, in words, intheories, adepts in debating, smart and adroit in talk. But they knowno more of Paddy than the babe unborn. I say nothing of Harcourt andthe other understrappers. They'll say anything that suits, whatever itmay be. We reckoned them up long since. Cannot the English people seethrough these nimble twisters and time-servers, this crowd of layVicars of Bray?" Catholic Home Ruler Number Three said, "I agree with all who say thatthe priests would do their best to secure a dominating influence inpolitical affairs. And although I think we ought to have an IrishLegislature, although I believe it would be good for us, yet if thepriestly influence were to become supreme for one moment of time--ifyou tell me that the Catholic Church is to hold the reins for onesecond, then I say, away with Home Rule, away with it for ever! Betterstay as we are. " This gentleman seems to have about as much logical foresight as someof those he criticises. He dreads priestly domination aboveeverything, and yet would approve of giving the priests a chance ofbeing masters. He continued:-- "The present Irish leaders are the curse of the movement, which, should it succeed, would in their hands bring untold sorrows on thecountry. As a Catholic Home Ruler, I put up my hands in supplication, and I beg, I implore of the English people to withhold their assent. For God's sake don't give it us at present. We must have it sooner orlater, but wait till we have leaders we can trust. Have you met adecent Home Ruler who trusts the present men? No. I knew you would sayso. Such a man cannot be found in Ireland. Then why send them toParliament, say you? That is just what you Englishmen do notunderstand. That is one of the points old Gladstone is wrecking thecountry on. You think it unanswerable. Listen to me. "When the franchise was lowered, then the mistake was made. You let inan immense electorate utterly incapable of discussing any question ofState; and, rushing from the extreme of abject servility to a sort oftyrannical mastery, they elected as their representatives, not themost able men, not the most orderly men, not the men of some trainingand education, not the men who had some stake in the country, but themost violent men, the glibbest men, the most factious, the mostcontumacious, the most pragmatical men were the men they elected. Lookat the Poor-Law Boards. See the set sent there. Those are the men whowill be sent to the Dublin Parliament. Are they men to be trusted withthe affairs of State? Look up your Burke, and observe thequalifications he thinks necessary to a statesman. Then look at theblacksmith who represents the county Tipperary, the mason whorepresents Meath, the drapers' assistants and bacon factors' clerkswho represent other places. You don't quite see this in England. Thesemen perhaps tell you that they are kings in their own country. Ireland is a long way off, and far-away hills are green. "Reverse the situation. Let Dublin be the seat of Empire and Londonwanting Home Rule. You really want it, and think it would be best forboth--a convenience for yourself and a saving of time for all. Wouldyou not draw back at the last moment if under the circumstances I havenamed, your country was to be handed over to fellows whose sole incomewas derived from their political work, artisans, clerks, andshopkeepers' assistants? What would these men do with their power?Make haste to be rich--nothing more. Patriots are they? Rubbish; theyare mere mercenaries. Parnell knew that. He said to me:-- "'Under the circumstances I must use these men, whom I would nototherwise touch with a forty-foot pole. Adversity makes us acquaintedwith strange bedfellows. Any port is good in a storm. These men willfight well--for their pay, and will work the thing up. But when we getthe bill, when we come into power, their work is done. They will bedropped at once, or furnished with places where they may get an honestliving. '" Catholic Home Ruler Number Four said: "The Meath election shows thefeeling of the priests, and what they would do if they could. Theyloathed Parnell, but he was too strong for them. And weren't they gladto give him the slip on the ground of morality. Home Rule wascomparatively a safe thing while Parnell lived. Now I would not adviseit for some years. We must have better men to the fore. We in Limerickare loyal, although Catholics and Home Rulers. Don't laugh at that. Itis a fact, though I admit it is hard to believe. Put it down, if youlike, to the influence of the Bishop. The young priests I say nothingabout. Their loyalty is a negligeable quantity. They do not object toProtestants _qua_ Protestants, but they object to them asrepresentatives of English rule. " This reminded me of Dr. Kane, of Belfast, who said to me, "They hateus, not because we are Protestants, not because we are Orangemen, notbecause we are strangers in the land, but because we are the hatedEnglish garrison. " Here I am bound to interpolate a word of qualification. The Mardykepromenade of Cork, a mile-long avenue of elms, has many comfortableseats, whereon perpetually do sit the "millingtary" of thesacrilegious Saxon, holding sweet converse with the Milesiancounterparts of the Saxon Sarah Ann. The road is full of them, Tommy'syellow-striped legs marching with the neat kirtle of Nora, Sheela, orMaureen. As it was in the Isle of Saints, so it was in Ulster, is nowin Limerick, and shall be in Hibernia _in sæcula sæculorum_. ALimerick constable said, "A regiment will come into the city at fouro'clock, and at eight they'll every man walk out a girl. Theinfatuation of the servant-girl class for the military is surprisin'. Only let them walk out with a soldier, and they 'chuck' everything, even Home Rule. " The hated garrison are not among the people whonever will be missed. Wherever Tommy goes he seems to be able tosample the female population. The soldiers always have a rare goodtime. A carman who drove me to Castleconnel proved the most interestingpolitician since Dennis Mulcahy, of Carrignaheela. He knew all aboutthe average English voter, and resented his superior influence inIrish affairs. "Shure, we're all undher the thumb o' a set o' blackmen that lives undher the bowils o' the airth. Yer honner must knowall about thim miners in the Black Counthry, an' in Wales, an' theNarth o' England? Ye didn't? Ah, now, ye're jokin' me, ye take me foran omadhaun all out. Ye know all about it; ye know that these poor mengoes down, an' down, an' down, till ye'd think they'd niver shtop, an'that they stay there a whole week afore they come up agin. An' thenthey shtand in tubs while their wives an' sweethearts washes an'scrubs thim, an' makes white men out o' the black men that comes up, an' thin walks thim off home. Now, shtandin' in a tub at the mouth o'the pit to be washed by yer wimmenfolks is what we wouldn't do in thiscounthry--'tisn't black naygurs we are--an' these men that lives inthe dark and have no time to think, an' nothin' to think wid, theseare the men ye put to rule this counthry, men that they print sichrubbish as _Tit-Bits_ for, because they couldn't understand sinse. An'the man that first found out that they couldn't understand sinse, an'gave thim somethin' that wanted no brains, they say has made afortune. Is that thrue, now? "As for owld Gladstone, I wouldn't trust him out o' me sight. We'llget no Home Rule, the owld thrickster doesn't mane it. 'Tis like a manI knew that was axed to lind a friend £100. He didn't like to lind, an' he was afeared to say No, an' he was in a quondairy intirely. So, says he 'I'll lind ye the money, ' says he, 'if ye'll bring thesecurities down to the bank, ' says he, 'an' get the cash off mebanker. ' Thin he went saycretly to the banker, an' says he, 'Thisthievin' blayguard, ' says he, 'wants the money, and he'll never repayme; I wouldn't thrust him, ' says he. 'Now, will ye help me, for Icouldn't say No, by raison he's a relative, an' an owld acquaintance, 'says he. "'An' how'll I do that?' says the banker. "'Ye can tur-rn up yer nose at the securities. ' "'Ha, Ha, ' says the banker, 'is it there ye are? Ye're a deep one;begorra ye are. Nabocklish, ' says he, 'I'll do it for ye, ' says he. "So whin the borrower wint for the money, the banker sent out wordthat the securities wor not good enough, an' that he wouldn't advancea farden. "Then the borrower goes to his frind an' complains, an' thin the frindacts all out the way Gladstone'll act when the bill's refused at theLords, or may be at the Commons. 'Hell to him, ' he roars, 'theblayguard thief iv a thievin' banker. I'll tache him to refuse afrind, says he. 'Sarve him right, ' says he, 'av I bate his head intoa turnip-mash an' poolverise him into Lundy Foot snuff. May be Iwon't, whin I meet him, thrash him till the blood pours down hisheels, ' says he. That'll be the way iv it. That's what Gladstone willsay whin the bill's lost, which he manes it to be, the conthrivin'owld son o' a schamer. "A gintleman axed me which o' them I like best o' the two Home RuleBills, an' I towld him that whin I lived at Ennis, an' drove a car atthe station there, the visithors, Americans an' English, would beaxin' me whin they lepped on the car which was the best hotel inEnnis. Now, whiniver I gave them my advice they would be cur-rsin' an'sinkin' at me whin they met me aftherwards in the sthreet, be raisonthat there was only two hotels in the place, an' nayther o' thim wasat all aiqual to what they wor used to in their own counthries. So Igot to know this, an' iver afther, whin they would be sayin' to me, "'Which is the best hotel in Ennis?' says they, an' I would answer, "'Faix, there's only two o' thim, an' to whichiver one ye go ye willbe sorrowin' that ye didn't go to the other, ' says I. "An' that's my reply as to which of the two Home Rule Bills I likebest. " In the city of Limerick itself all is quiet and orderly. Outside, things are different. Disturbed parts of the County Clare aredangerous to strangers, and, what is more to the point, somewhatdifficult of access. The country is not criss-crossed with railways asin England, and vehicles for long journeys are rather hard to get. However, I have chartered a car for a three-day trip into what may becalled the interior, have fired several hundred cartridges from aWinchester repeating rifle, and written letters to my dearest friends. I start to-morrow, and if I do not succeed in bottoming the recentoutrages--which are hushed up as much as possible, and of which thelocal newspaper-men, both Nationalist and Conservative, together withHead-Constable MacBrinn, declare they cannot get at the preciseparticulars--if I cannot get to the root of the matter, I shall in mynext letter have the honour of stating the reason why. Limerick, April 22nd. No. 13. --THE CURSE OF COUNTY CLARE. Once again the difference between Ireland and England is forciblyexemplified. It was certain that several moonlighting expeditions hadrecently been perpetrated in the neighbourhood of Limerick, which isonly divided by the Shannon from the County Clare. You walk over abridge in the centre of the city and you change your county, butnobody in Limerick seems to know anything about the matter. The localpapers hush up the outrages when they hear of them, which is seldom ornever. The people who know anything will not, dare not tell, and eventhe police have the utmost difficulty in establishing the bare factsof any given case. English publicity is entirely unknown. Localcorrespondents do not always exist in country towns, and the distancesare so great, in comparison with the facilities for travel, thatnewspaper-men seldom or never visit the scene of the occurrence. Andbesides the awkward and remote position of the country hamlets andmountain farms, there are other excellent reasons for journalisticreticence. The people do not wish to read such news, the editors donot wish to print these discreditable records, and the police, although eminently and invariably civil and obliging, are debarred bytheir official position from disclosing what they know. The veryvictims themselves are often silent, refusing to give details, andalmost always declining to give evidence. That the sufferers usuallyknow and could easily identify the cowardly ruffians who so cruellymaltreat them is a well-ascertained fact. That they usually declarethey have no clue to the offenders is equally well known. Thedifficulty of arresting suspected men is enhanced by the fact that themoonlighters have a complete system of scouts who in this bare andthinly populated district, descry the police when miles away, givingtimely warning to the marauders; these, besides, are readily concealedby their neighbours and friends, who in this display an ingenuity andenthusiasm worthy a better cause. Suppose the villains are caughtred-handed; even then the difficulties are by no means over. InIreland a felon once in the hands of the police, by that onecircumstance at once and for ever becomes a hero, a martyr, a man tobe excused, to be prayed for, to be worshipped. No matter how blackhis offence, the touch of the constabulary washes him whiter thansnow, purifies him from every earthly taint, surrounds him with a haloof sanctity. Those whom he has injured will not bear witness againsthim, because their temerity might cost them their lives, the loss oftheir property, the esteem of their fellow-men. What this means weshall shortly see. The cases I have examined will speak forthemselves. And let it be remembered that close proximity to thescenes described produces an incomparably stronger effect than anydescription, however minute, however painstaking. The utterlawlessness of the districts I have visited since penning Monday'sletter has produced a profound, an indelible impression. I pass overthe means employed to get over the ground, merely stating thathorseflesh has borne the brunt of the business. That and pedestrianismare the only means available, with untold patience and perseverance toworm out the true story. People will not show the way, or will directyou wrongly. Their ignorance, that is, their assumed ignorance, iswonderful, incredible. They are all sthrangers in those parts. Theynever knew a family of that name, never heard of any moonlighting, swear that the amusement is unknown thereabouts, assert that thewhole thing is a fabrication of the police. All the people round aredecent, honest, hard-working folks, without a fault; pious, virtuous, immaculate. You push on, and your friend runs after you. Stay amoment, something has struck him. Just at the last distressing hour, his brain displayed amazing power. Now he comes to think of it, something was said to have happened over there, at Ballygammon, tenmiles in the opposite direction. A stack was fired, and they said itwas the Boys. It was the police who burnt the hay, but they deny it"av coorse. " He is suspiciously anxious to afford all the informationhe can. Ballygammon is the spot, and Tim Mugphiller your man. MentionMike Delany and you will get every information, and--have ye a screwof tobacky these hard times. You pursue your way certain that at lastyou are on the right track, and Mike's jaw drops to his knees. Toolate he sees that his only chance of altering your course was to pointout the right one. Dropping for once scenery and surroundings, let us at once plunge, asHorace advises, _in medias res_. The district in Mr. Balfour's timewas pleasant and peaceable. Curiously enough its troubles commencedwith the change of Government. From March 18 to April 18 the police ofNewcastlewest received tidings of fifteen outrages. How many have beenperpetrated no man living can tell, for people often think it wisestto hold their peace. Ireland is often said to be almost free fromcrime, except of the agrarian kind, and moonlighting is partlycondoned by reason of its alleged cause. How must we class thefollowing case? On February 19, 1893, four armed men with blackened faces and dressedas women, attacked the dwelling of T. Donoghue, of Boola, not far fromNewcastle. They burst open the door and entered, not to revenge anyreal or fancied wrong, but purely and simply to obtain possession of asum of £150, which Donoghue's daughter had brought from America. Theybelieved they would have an easy prey, but they were mistaken; therewere two or three men in the house, and the heroes decamped instanter, followed, unknown to themselves, by one of Donoghue's family. Havingduly run them to earth, he informed the police, who caught them neatlyenough, their shoes covered with fresh mud, and with everycircumstance of guilt. The Donoghue folks identified them. The casewas perfectly clear--that is the expressed opinion of everybody I havemet, official and otherwise. It was tried at the Limerick SpringAssizes, and the jury returned a verdict of "Not guilty!" Thesepatriotic jurors had doubtless much respect for their oaths, more forthe interests of justice, more still for their own skins. This case ispublic property, and is only cited to prove that when the difficultyof arrest and the greater difficulty of obtaining evidence are withinfinite pains overcome, the jury will not convict, no matter what thecrime. Before he commences his career of crime, the moonlight marauderknows the chances of being caught are immensely in his favour, thatshould luck in this matter be against him, his very victim willdecline to identify him, nay, will affirm that he is not the man, andthat when the worst comes to the worst, no jury in the counties ofKerry, Clare, or Limerick will convict. Here are some results of my researches. The particulars of these casesnow first appear in print. A man named James Dore, who keeps a public-house in Bridge Street, Newcastlewest--I can vouch for his beer--also held a small farm offorty-nine acres from the Earl of Devon, for which he paid the modestrent of £11 10s. Per annum--the land maintaining sixteen cows andcalves, which, on the usual local computation of £10 profit on eachcow, would leave a gain of £148 10s. --not a bad investment, as Irishfarming goes. So it was considered, and when the tenant-right wasannounced as for sale by auction, two cousins of Dore, who held farmscontiguous, agreed to jointly bid for the tenant-right, and havingsecured the land, to arrange its partition between themselves. Theywent to £400, but this was not regarded as enough, and thetenant-right was for a specified time held over for purchase byprivate agreement. A farmer named William Quirke offered £590, whichwas accepted, and the money paid. After this, the two cousins cameforward and said they would purchase the tenant-right, offering £40more than Quirke had paid. They were told that they were too late, andthe Earl's agent (Mr. Curling) said nothing could now be done. Thiswas on the 13th of the present month of April. On the 14th, Mr. JamesCooke, Lord Devon's bailiff, was seen showing the purchaser Quirkeover the newly-acquired holding. Poor Quirke little knew what was atthat moment hanging over him. He had not long to wait. The dastarddemon of moonlight ruffianism was on his track. Quirke had a son aged fourteen years, but looking two years younger, asimple peasant lad, who cannot have injured his country very much. Hewas tending a cow, which required watching, his father and mothertaking their rest while the child sat out the lonely hours in thecowhouse. He heard something, and listened with all his ears. Notvoices, but a subdued whispering. It was the dead hour of night, twoor half-past two, and the boy was frightened. The place is lonely, seven miles or more from Newcastlewest, and up towards the mountains. He listened and listened, and again heard the mysterious sounds. Hesays he "thought it was the fairies. " He stole from the byre and wentto the house. A horrible dread had crept over him, and father andmother were there. As he opened the door a terrible blow from behindstruck him down. He was not stunned, though felled by the butt-end ofa gun. They beat and kicked him as he lay. He gave an anguished cry. The mother heard and recognised her boy's voice, and, waking thefather, said "Go down, they're killing my lad. " The old man, for he isan old man, went down the stairs naked and unarmed. The foul maraudersmet him half-way up, and served him as they had served the boy, throwing him down, kicking him, and beating him with butt-ends ofguns; with one terrible blow breaking three of his ribs; and saying, "Give it up, give it up. " He said he would "give it up"; promised byall he held sacred, begged hard for his life, and implored them atleast to spare the young lad. Their reply to this was to fire a chargeof shot into the boy's legs, a portion of the charge entering thelimbs of an old woman--his grandmother, I think--who was feebly tryingto shield the lad. This was such excellent sport that more was thoughtexpedient. A charge of shot was fired into the father's legs, and asone knee-joint is injured, the elder Quirke's condition is precariouseven without his broken ribs and other injuries. The cowardly houndsthen left, in their horrid disguise adding a new terror to the lonelynight. The evening's entertainment was not yet over. They crossed acouple of fields to a house where dwelt Quirke's married son. Theyburst open the door of his cottage and dragged the young fellow--he isabout twenty-five--from his bed, beating him sorely, and in thepresence of his wife firing a charge of shot into his legs. Then theywent home, each man to his virtuous couch, to dream fair dreams of thecoming Paradise, when they and their kind may work their own sweetwill, free from the fear of a hireling constabulary, and under theægis of a truly national senate, given to a grateful country by aGrand Old Man. The Quirkes know their assailants, but they will not tell. "What goodwould it do me to have men imprisoned?" says William Quirke, senior. "My lad's life might pay for it, and perhaps my own. " The mostinfluential people of the district have remonstrated with him, argued, persuaded, all in vain. William Quirke has a wish to remain in thissublunary sphere. His spirit is not anxious to take unto itself thewings of a dove, that it may fly away and be at rest. Like the dyingMethodist, whose preacher reminded him of the beauties of Paradise, helikes "about here pretty well. " Mr. Heard, Divisional Commissioner incharge of the constabulary organisation of the Counties of Cork, Limerick, and Kerry can get nothing out of William Quirke. County-inspector Moriarty can stir nothing, nor Major Rolleston, Resident Magistrate, nor Inspectors Wright, Pattison, and Huddy, allof whom have done their level best. These gentlemen assert thatobviously Quirke knows the moonlighters, and for my own part, I amcertain of it. The married son is equally dumb. "They were disguised, "he says. "But you would recognise their voices. " Then comes thestrangest assertion, "They never spoke a word. " In other words, heaffirms that a number of men, not less than seven or eight, burst openhis door, dragged him from bed, maltreated and shot him, to theaccompaniment of his wife's terrified screaming and his ownprotestations, without uttering a single syllable! The boldGladstonians whose influence removed Mr. Balfour from office anddelivered the country into ruffian hands, will say: And serve thepeople right! If they will not bear witness let the victims suffer. You cannot help people who will not help themselves. The police arethere, the magistrates are there, the prisons are there, the hangman, if need be, is there. If they will not avail themselves of theprotection provided, let them suffer. Let them go at it. All their ownfault. Nobody but themselves to blame. All very plausible and reasonable--in theory. Let us look a littlecloser into this matter. What does William Quirke say:--"Nobody canhelp an Irish farmer in a lonely part of Ireland. There are too manyways of getting at him. Suppose I gave such evidence as would satisfyanybody--I do not say I could--I don't know anything; but suppose Iknew and told, would a Limerick jury convict? Certainly not. Everybodyknows that. The police, the magistrates, will tell you that, every oneof them. Nobody will say anything else. Then, why rouse more enmity? Ishall give up the land even if I lose the money, the savings of alife-time, added to a loan, which I can repay in time. That issettled. What good would the land do me, once I were dead? I value mylife more than my money, and more especially do I think of thosebelonging to me. Suppose I held on, and kept the land. Every time thelad went out I'd expect him to be brought in shot to his mother andme. And when I saw the lad's dead face, what would I think? And whatwould I say when his mother turned round and said, 'Ye have the land, haven't ye, William?' Our lives would not be worth twopence if I heldon. Do you remember Carey, the informer? The British Empire couldn'tprotect him, though it shipped him across the world. How would I beamong the mountains here? I could be shot going to or coming frommarket, my cattle houghed or mutilated, nobody would buy from me, nobody would sell to me, nobody would work on my farm. My stacks wouldbe burnt. Look at the hay burnt in the last few weeks! You say I'd geta presentment against the county--and if I did I'd have to wait tillnext March for the money. Where's the capital to carry on? Suppose Iwanted thirty tons of hay between this and that. That would cost £90. Where would I get the money? But that's not it. Life is dear, and lifemight at any moment be taken. If my stacks were burnt in July I'd haveto wait a year for my money. I'd be cut off from all communicationwith the people, and shunned as if I'd the plague. If I went to marketthe people would leave the road to me, would cross over to the otherside when they saw me coming. You never saw boycotting; you don't knowwhat it means. " In a lonely stretch of gorse-bordered road, steep and rough, I cameupon two members of the Royal Irish Constabulary, with rifles, sword-bayonets, and bâtons. We had a chat, and I examined their shortSniders while they admired the humble Winchester I carried forcompany, and which on one occasion had acted like a charm. Theycarried buckshot cartridges and ball, and had no objection to expresstheir views. "Balfour was the man to keep the country quiet. Tworesident magistrates could convict, and the blackguards knew that, ifcaught, it was all up with them. They are the most cowardly vermin onthe face of the earth, for although if any of our men (who never gosingly, but always in twos or threes) were to appear unarmed, they'dbe murdered at sight. Yet although they often fire on us, they mostlydo it from such distances that their bullets have no effect, so thatthey can run away the moment they pull the trigger. Lately things havebeen looking rather blue over there. " One pointed to the hillsdividing the county from Kerry. "The Kerry men are getting rifles. Iknow the 'ping' of the brutes only too well. Let them get a few menwho know their weapons, and we'll be potted at five hundred yardseasily enough. Yes, they have rifles now, and what for? To shootsparrows? No. You can't guess? Give it up? Ye do? Then I'll tell you. To carry out the Home Rule Bill. Yes, I do think so. Will you tell methis? Who will in future collect rates and taxes? The tenants do notthink they will have any more rent to pay. Lots of them will tell youthat. These very men have the members of the Irish Parliament in theirhands. That is; they can return whomsoever they choose. Therepresentation of the country is in their hands. And the priests agreewith them. No difference there, their object is one and the same, andwhen the priests and the farmers unite, who can compel them to pay up?Is the Irish Legislature which will be returned by these men--is it alikely body to compel payment of tribute to the hated Saxon at thepoint of the bayonet? When the British Government, with all theresources of Gladstonian civilisation, failed to put down boycotting, how do you suppose a sympathetic Government, returned by the farmers, consisting of farmers' sons, with a sprinkling of clever attorneys, more smart than honest, will proceed with compulsory action? Why theycould do nothing if they wished, but then they will have no desire tocompel. The English people are only commencing their troubles. Theydon't know they're born yet. Gladstone will have some explaining todo, but he can do it, he can do it. He'd explain the shot out of theQuirke family's legs. Ah! but he's a terrible curse to this country. " The other officer said:--"Our duty is very discouraging. We arehindered and baffled on every side by the people, whose sympathies arealways against the law. Now in England your sympathies are with thelaw, and the people have the sense to support it, knowing that it willsupport them, so long as they do the right thing. It was bad enough tohave the people against us, but now things are a hundred times worse. When Balfour was in power, we felt that our labour was not in vain. Wefelt that there was some chance of getting a conviction--not much, perhaps, but still a chance. Now, if we catch the criminals redhanded, we know no jury will convict. We try to do our duty, but of course wecan't put the same heart into it as we could if we thought our workwould do any good. And another thing--we knew Balfour, so long as wewere acting with integrity, would back us up. Now we never know whatwe're going to get--whether we shall be praised or kicked behind. ThisGovernment is not only weak but also slippery. Outrages areincreasing. News of three more reached the Newcastlewest Barracks thisvery day. We had a man on horseback scouring the mountains forinformation. The outraged people sometimes keep it close. What's thegood, they say. We hear of the affair from other people, and theprincipals, so to speak, ask us to make no fuss about it, as theydon't want to be murdered. The country is getting worse every day. We'll have such a bloody winter as Ireland never saw. " Another small moonlighting incident, now appearing for the first timeon this or any other stage. Some tenants years ago were evicted on theLangford estates. Negotiations were proceeding for their proximaterestoration, but nothing could be settled. A few days ago a smallfarmer named Benjamin Brosna, aged 55, agreed with the properauthorities to graze some cattle on the land in question pending thearrangement of the matter. A meeting at Haye's Cross was immediatelyconvened by two holy men of the district, to wit, Father Keefe, P. P. , and Father Brew, C. C. , both of Meelin, and under the guidance of thesegood easy men, it was resolved that any man grazing cattle on theLangford land was as bad as the landlord, and must be treatedaccordingly. On the same day, April 18, or rather in the nightsucceeding the day of the meeting, eleven masked and armed men enteredBrosna's house, and one of them, presenting a gun, said, "We have younow, you grass-grabber. " Brosna seized the gun, and being hale andactive, despite his 55 years, showed such vigorous fight that he fellthrough the doorway into the yard along with two others, where he wasbrutally beaten, and must have been killed--it was their clearintention--but for the pitchy darkness of the yard and the number ofhis assailants, who in their fury fell over each other, enablingBrosna, who being on his own ground knew the ropes better than they, in the darkness to glide under a cart and escape over an adjacentwall, where he hid himself. They lost him, and returned to the house, firing shots at whatever they could damage, and smashing everythingbreakable, from the windows upwards. Brosna will lose the sight of oneeye, which is practically beaten out. His servants, named Larkin, havebeen compelled to leave by means of threatening letters. Their fatherhas also been threatened with death unless he instantly removes themfrom Brosna's house. I could continue indefinitely, continuing my remarks to theoccurrences of one month or so; and if I abruptly conclude it isbecause time presses, my return to civilisation having been effectedat 3. 30 this morning, after a ten miles' mountain walk, followed bythree hours' ride in the blissful bowels of an empty cattle-truck. But for the good Samaritan of a luggage train I must last night havecamped beneath the canopy of heaven. No scarcity of fun inIreland--which beats the world for sparkling incident. Rathkeale (Co. Limerick), April 24th. No. 14. --LAWLESSNESS AND LAZINESS. The fruits of Gladstonian rule are ripening fast. Mr. Morley's visitto Cork _en route_ for Dublin corresponds with Inspector Moriarty'svisit to the Irish capital. Mr. Moriarty is the county inspector inwhose district most of the recent outrages have been perpetrated, andis therefore able to give the Irish Secretary plenty of news. Hisreport will doubtless remain secret, as it is sensational. Mr. Morleyhas too much regard for the sensibilities of Mr. And Mrs. Bull, andwhen the Limerick inspector, entering the State confessional of DublinCastle, advances and says, "I could a tale unfold whose lightest wordWould harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locksto part, And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills uponthe fretful porcupine, "--when Mr. Moriarty utters the familiar andappropriate words the Irish Secretary will say with deprecatorygesture, "Enough, enough. 'Twas ever thus. This is the effect ofkindness. What ho, my henchmen bold! A flagon, a mighty flagon of mostancient sack. I feel that I am about to be prostrated. Such is thefate of greatness. Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. It is agreat and glorious thing, To be an Irish Sec. But give to me my hollowtree, A crust of bread and liberty. The word is porpentine, notporcupine, Mr. Inspector. A common corruption. Verify your quotations. Have them (in future) attested by two resident magistrates. And now towork. All in strict confidence. Let not the world hear of thesethings. Let not the people know that violence and rapine walkhand-in-hand with my administration. Nameless in dark oblivion let itdwell. Let it be _sub rosâ, sub sigillâ confessionis, sub-auditer, sub_ everything. Tell it not in Gath, proclaim it not in Askalon, forbehold, if the people heard, they would marvel, and fear greatly;and--be afraid. " The officer would then produce his budget, with its horrors, itsindecencies, its record of trickery, treachery, cowardly revenge, andmidnight terrorism. The local press correspondents of the ruraldistricts are nearly all Nationalists, and they either furnish garbledreports, or none at all. The reporters of Conservative papers, comparatively Conservative, I mean, are also Nationalists. The Irishthemselves know not what is taking place ten miles away. How isEngland to learn the precise state of things? I have fished up a fewrecent samples of minor occurrences which will form part of Mr. Moriarty's news. These smaller outrages invariably lead up to murderif the victim resist. They are so many turns of the screw, just to letthe recalcitrant feel what can be done. In the large majority of caseshe gives way at the first hint. Let us relate some neighbouringexperiences. David Geary, of Castlemahon, late in the evening heard an explosion atthe door of his cottage. He ran out, and found a fuse burning, lyingwhere it had been cast, while a volley of large stones whizzed pasthis head. There had been some litigation between a man named Callaghanand a road contractor, and Geary had allowed the road contractor's mento take their food in wet weather under his roof. On April 15, at two in the morning, a party of masked moonlightersvisited the cottage of Mrs. Breens, of Raheenish, and having fired twoshots through the parlour window, shattering the woodwork by way ofletting the widow know they were there, fired a third through herbed-room window to expedite the lady's movements. Almost paralysedwith fear, she parleyed with the besieging force, which, by itsspokesman, demanded her late husband's gun, threatening to put"daylight through her" unless it were instantly given up. It was inher son's possession, and she hurried to his room. The young dog cameon the scene, and instead of handing out the gun, fired two shots froma revolver into the darkness. Whereupon the band of Irishhero-patriots outside fled with electric speed, and returned no more. At Ardagh the police found a haystack burning. They saved about tentons, but Patrick Cremmin claims £88 from the county. He had offendedsomebody, but he declares he knows not the motive. In other words, hewants to let the thing drop--bar the £88. Another stack of hay, partlysaved by the police, was burnt because evictions had taken place:damage £20, which the county must pay. R. Plummer, a labourer withBrosna, whose case was given in my last, has received a letterthreatening him with death unless he left Brosna's employ. Some saythe name is Brosnan or Bresnahan. Beware of the quibbling of Irishmalcontents, who on the strength of a misprint or a wrongly-speltname, boldly state that no such person ever existed, and thattherefore the case is a pure invention. Here is a specimen of thetoleration Loyalists and Protestants may expect:--A special trainhaving been run from Newcastle to Limerick to enable people to attenda Unionist meeting in the latter city, the Nationalists took steps tomark their sense of the railway company's indiscretion, and a trainsoon afterwards leaving Newcastle for Tralee, they hurled a greatstone from the Garryduff Bridge, smashing the window of the guard'svan and doing other injury. At Gurtnaclochy, to deter a witness in alegal case, a threatening letter was sent, sixty yards of a sod fencethrown down, and a coffin and gun neatly cut on the field. On theRoman Catholic Chapel wall at Ashford a notice was posted threateningwith death anyone who bought hay or turnips from a boycotted man, andthe same day a man named Herlihy received a threatening letter. OnApril 15 a party of armed, disguised men with blackened faces, calledon a poor man at Inniskeen, and having smashed the windows, tried toforce the door, but stopped to parley. They called on "Young Patrick"to hand out the father's gun, and the young man complied. Beingtwitted with this he said, "I want to live. If I had refused the gunmy life would not be worth twopence. I would be 'covered' from a bushor a fence when I walked out, or shot dead in the door as I lookeddown the lane, as was done in another case. I know the parties well, but I would not give evidence. Neither will I give the police any moreinformation. It would not hurt the criminals, but it would hurt me. For while the jury would not convict, the secret tribunal that sat onme would not be so merciful, and many a man would like the distinctionof being singled out to execute the secret decrees of the Moonlightfraternity. " Another person standing by said, "What happened atGalbally, near Tipperary? A priest denounced a Protestant named Allenfrom the altar, and a week after the man was shot dead in his tracks. Everybody knew perfectly well who did the deed. All knew the man whowanted Allen's land, and it was thought that there was evidence enoughto hang him twenty times. He is alive and well, and if you go anySaturday to the Tipperary market Father Humphreys will introduce youto him. He was discharged without a stain on his character, and brassbands met him on his return, also a torchlight procession. " In Ireland, even more than in England, brass bands are necessary tothe expression of the popular emotion. Brass bands met Egan, theliberated, everywhere. Brass bands accompanied the march of O'Brien'smourners at the Cork funeral last week. Not a murderer in Irelandwhose release would not be celebrated with blare of brass bands, andglare of burning grease. Mr. Morley could not land in Cork, howeverprivately, for he did not wish to speak, without a brass band beingloosed on his heels. The great philosophical Radical, the encyclopædiaof political wisdom, the benefactor, the saviour, the regenerator ofIreland, left Cork to the strains of the Butter Exchange Band--_conamore_, _affetuoso_, and doubtless _con spirito_. Yet some will saythat the Irish are not grateful! Mr. Morley stayed at the hotel I hadjust left, the Royal Victoria, which I justly described as a hot-bedof sedition. It was here, in room No. 72, that Dalton so terriblypunched the long-suffering head of Tim Healy. At the Four Courts, Dublin, I saw a waiter who witnessed the famous horsewhipping in thatcity. I asked him if it were a severe affair, or whether, as theNationalist papers affirmed, only a formality, a sort ofConsider-yourself-flogged. How that waiter expanded and enjoyed thePleasures of Memory! "It was a most thrimindious affair, Sorr. McDermott was a fine, powerful sthrip of a boy, an' handled thehorsewhip iligant. Ye could hear the whack, whack, whack in therefreshment room wid the doors closed, twenty yards away. It was forall the world a fine, big, healthy kind of batin' that Tim got. An'the way he wriggled was the curiousest thing at all. 'Twas enough tomake yer jump out of yer skin wid just burstin' with laffin'. " Leaving outrages and violence to Messrs. Morley and Moriarty, let menarrate the effect of the impending Home Rule Bill on some of thecommercial community. A well-known tradesman says: "A man inNewcastlewest owed me £24 for goods delivered. He had a flourishingshop and also an excellent farm. He was so slow in paying, andapparently so certain that in a little while he would escapealtogether, that I sued him for the amount. It was a common action fora common debt, between one Irish tradesman and another. But I am aUnionist, and therefore fair game. I got judgment, but no instalmentswere paid. I remonstrated over and over again, and was from time totime met with solemn promises, the debtor gaining time by every delay. At last I lost patience, and determined to distrain. Everybody laughedat me. 'Where will you get an auctioneer, and who will bid? theyasked. I determined to carry through this one case, if it cost ahundred pounds. I got a good revolver, and succeeded in bringing anauctioneer from a distance. The debtor said he would brain me with abill-hook if I put my foot on his ground, and another man promised toshoot me from a bed-room window. It was necessary, to carry out thesale at all, to have police protection. I went to the barracks andsubmitted the case. Had I a sheriff's order, &c. , &c. , &c. ? Alldifficulties overcome I went to the 'sale. ' We seized a cow, a watch, and some of my own goods, and commenced the auction. Nobody bid butmyself, and when I had covered the amount due the sale ceased, theaspect of the people being very menacing. Remember, this was notagrarian at all. The debt was for goods delivered to be sold in theway of trade. Most of them were there before my face. The debtor cameand said, 'You can't take the things away. But we like your pluck, andif you will settle the matter for £5 I will give you the money. ' Ideclined to take £5 for £24 and costs, although the police looked onthe offer as unexpectedly liberal, and the bystanders shed tears ofemotion and said that Gallagher was 'iver an' always the dacent boy. 'When I wished to remove the things the troubles began. I had myrevolver, the police their rifles, but things looked very blue. Idrove the cow to the station and got her away, but the other thingscould not walk aboard, and how to get them there was hard to know. Iasked people I knew to lend me their carts--people who were under someobligation to me, men I had known and done business with for years. They all refused; they feared the evil eye of the vigilance committeeof a Fenian organisation still in full swing among us, and keepingregular books for settlement when they have the power. I wasdetermined not to be beat, so I went to Limerick, nearly thirty milesaway, to get a float or wagon. The news was there before me, not awheel to be had in the city. At last, by means of powerful influence, I got a cart, on condition that the owner's name should be taken off, and my name painted on. Then I returned to Newcastle and bore away thegoods in triumph. Alas! my troubles were only beginning! I had beentold that the goods were not the debtor's, but belonged to someoneelse. The cow, they said, was a neighbour's, who had 'lent' it to mydebtor. The watch, they said, was the property of a friend, who hadhanded it to my debtor that he might take it somewhere to be repaired. The landlord of the house claimed that he had previously seizedeverything, but had allowed things to remain out of kindness. I wascited in four actions for illegal distraint, all of which were soevidently trumped-up that they were quashed. But the time they took!And the annoyance they caused. The expense also was considerable, andthe idea of getting expenses out of these people--but I need addnothing on that score. "There were six witnesses in one case, and they could never be found, so long as the judge could have patience to wait. Every lie, trick, subterfuge you can imagine, was practised on poor me. At last all wasover, but at what a cost! The big chap who had threatened me with thebill-hook came humbly forward and said: "Plase yer honner's worship, I'm very deaf, an' I'm short sighted, and I'm very wake intirely, an'ye must give me toime to insinse meself into the way of it. " And thatrascal had everything repeated several times, until I was on fiftyoccasions on the point of chucking up the whole thing. "Before the Home Rule Bill had implanted dishonest ideas in his head, before the promises of unscrupulous agitators had unsettled anddemoralised the people, that man was a straightforward, good, payingfellow. Only he thought that by waiting till the bill was passed hewould have nothing to pay. The ignorant among us harbour that idea, and the disloyalty of the lower classes is so intense that you couldnot understand it unless you lived here at least two years. " English friends who praise the affection of the Irish people, and whospeak of the Union of Hearts, may note the lectures of the popularMiss Gonne, who is being enthusiastically welcomed in NationalistIreland. No doubt the local papers expurgated the text; at the presentmoment the word has gone round:--"Let us get the bill, let us get thebill, and then!" But enough remains to show the general tone. Addressing the Irish National Literary Society, of Loughrea, MissGonne said that she must "contradict Lord Wolseley in his statementthat England was never insulted by invasion since the days of Williamthe Conqueror. It would be deeply interesting to the men and women ofConnaught to hear once again how a gallant body of French troops, fighting in the name of Liberty and Ireland, had conquered nearly thewhole of that province at a time when England had in her service inIreland no less than one hundred and fifty thousand trained troops. She would remind them that France was the one great military nation ofEurope that had been the friend of Ireland"--a remark which wasreceived with loud and prolonged applause. "And it would be a matterof some pride to us to reflect that in these military relations therecord of the Irish brigades in the service of France compared notwithout advantage with the military services which France had beenable to render to Ireland. " This passage clearly refers to the aid thetwo countries have afforded each other as against England, and thewhole lecture seems to have aimed at the heaping of ignominy on theBritish name. The stronger the denunciation of England, the morepopular the speaker. The Union of Hearts gets "no show" at all. Thephrase is unknown to Irish Nationalists. However deceitful they maybe, it cannot yet be said that they have sunk thus low. Looking over Wednesday's _Cork Examiner_, I observe that amid otherthings the Reverend John O'Mahony attributes the fact that "Theteeming treasures of the deep were almost left untouched, " that is, off the Irish coast, and that this is "a disgrace and a dishonour tothe people through whose misrule and misgovernment the unhappy resultwas brought about. " Father O'Mahony is a Corker, and should know thathe is talking nonsense. Let me explain. In Cork I met a gentleman for twenty-five years engaged in supplyingfishermen with all their needs. He said, "The Irish fishermen are thelaziest, most provoking beggars under the sun. " He showed me two sizesof net-mesh and said, "This is the size of a shilling, this is thesize of a halfpenny. The Scotsmen and Shetlanders use the shillingsize. The difference seems small, but it is very important. TheIrishmen use the halfpenny size, and will use no other. They say thatwhat was good enough for their fathers is good enough for them. Whenthe fish are netted they make a rush, and many of them escape thelarger mesh, which they can get through, unless of the largest size. The small mesh catches them by the gills and hangs them. This, however, is a small matter. The most important thing is the depth offishing. The Scotsmen and Shetlanders come up to the Irish coast, which is remarkably rich in fish, and when they meet a school of fishthey fish very deep and bring them up by tons, while the Irishmen areskimming the tops of the shoals, and drawing up trumpery dozens, because their fathers did so. Years ago I used to argue the point, butI know better now. When the water is troubled, when the wind isblowing, and things are a trifle rough, then is the time to fish. Theherrings cannot see the net when the water is agitated. The Scotsmenare on the job, full of spirits and go, but Paddy gets up and takes alook and goes to bed again. He waits for fine weather, so as to givethe fish a chance. The poor Shetlanders come over long leagues of sea, catch ling a yard long, under Paddy's nose, take it to Shetland, cureit, and bring it back to him, that he may buy it at twopence a pound. At the mouth of the Blackwater are the finest soles in the world, butthe Irish are too lazy to catch them;--great thick beggars of fishfour inches thick, you never saw such soles, the Dover soles are liceto them, they'd fetch a pound apiece in London if they were known. Change the subject. Every time I come round here I get into a rage. The British Government finds these men boats. The Shetlanderssometimes land, and when they contrast the fat pastures and teemingsouth coast of Ireland with their own cold seas and stony hills theysay with the Ulstermen, 'Would that you would change countries!'" I asked him how he accounted for this extraordinary state of things. He said:-- "As an Irishman I am bound to answer one question by asking another. Was there ever a free and prosperous country where the Roman Catholicreligion was predominant?" I could not answer him at the moment, but perhaps Father O'Mahony, whoknows so much, may satisfy him on the point. Or in the absence of thiseloquent kisser of the Blarney Stone some other black-coated Corkermay respond. Goodness knows, they are numerous enough. All are wellclothed and well fed, while the flock that feed the pastor are mostlyin squalid poverty, actually bending the knee to their greasytask-masters, poor ignorant victims of circumstances. Among the many nostrums offered to Ireland, nobody offers soap. Thegreatest inventions are often the simplest, and with all humility Imake the suggestion. Ireland is badly off for soap, and cleanliness isnext to godliness. Father Humphreys, of Tipperary, boasts of hisinfluence with the poor--delights to prove how in the matter of rentthey took his advice, and so on. Suppose he asks them to washthemselves! The suggestion may at first sight appear startling. Allnovelties are alarming at first; but the mortality, except among oldpeople, would probably prove less than Father Humphreys might expect. He would have some difficulty in recognising his flock, but theresources of civilisation would probably be sufficient to conquer thisdrawback. Persons over forty might be exempted, as nothing less thanskinning would meet their case, but the young might possibly betrained, against tradition and heredity, to the regular use of water. But I fear the good Father will hardly strain his authority so far. Anedict to wash would mean blue ructions in Tipperary, open rebellionwould ensue, and the mighty Catholic Church would totter to its fall. The threat to wash would be an untold terrorism, the use of soap anoutrage which could only be atoned by blood. And Father Humphreys (ifhe knew the words) might truly say _Cui bono_? Why wash? Is not soapan enemy to the faith? Do not the people suit our purpose much betteras they are? _Thigum thu_, brutal and heretic Saxon? Killaloe (Co. Clare), April 27th. No. 15. --THE PERIL TO ENGLISH TRADE. As the great object of public interest in the city of Limerick is theTreaty Stone, a huge block of granite, raised on a pedestal on theClare side of Thomond Bridge, to commemorate the Violated Treaty sographically described by Macaulay, and to keep in remembrance of thepeople the alleged ancient atrocities of the brutal Saxon--so thekey-note of Ennis is the memorial to the Manchester Martyrs, erectedoutside the town to commemorate the people who erected it. That is howit strikes the average observer. For while the patriotic murderers ofthe Manchester policemen, to wit, O'Brien, Allen, and Larkin, haveonly one tablet to the three heroes, the members of the committee whowere responsible for this Nationalist or rather Fenian monument haveimmortalised themselves on three tablets. But although party feelingruns high, and the town as a whole appears to be eminently disloyaland inimical to England, there are not wanting reasonable people wholook on the proposed change with grave suspicion, even though theynominally profess to support the abstract doctrine of Home Rule. Naturally, their main opinions are very like those I have previouslyrecorded as being prevalent in the neighbouring counties of Limerick, Cork, and Kerry. They believe the present time unseasonable, and theyhave no confidence in the present representatives of the Nationalistparty. They believe that the Irish people are not yet sufficientlyeducated to be at all capable of self-government, and they fail to seewhat substantial advantages would accrue from any Home Rule Bill. Moreespecially do they distrust Mr. Gladstone; and although in England theNationalist leaders speak gratefully of the Grand Old Man, it isprobable that such references would in Ireland be received in silence, if not with outspoken derision. A well-known Nationalist thusexpressed himself on this point:-- "Gladstone's recent attack on Parnell was one of the meanest acts of anaturally mean and cowardly man, whose whole biography is a continuousstory of surrender, abject and unconditional. Parnell was his master. With all his faults, Parnell was much the better man. He was too coola swordsman for Gladstone, and, spite of the Grand Man's trickydodging and shifting, Parnell beat him at every point, until he wasthoroughly cowed and had to give in. What surprises me is that theEnglish people are led away by a mere talker. They claim to be themost straightforward and practical people in the world. Answer methis:--Did you, did anybody, ever know Gladstone to give astraightforward answer to any one question? Straight dealing is not inhim. He is slippery as an eel--with all his 'honesty, ' his piety, hisbenevolence. But as he reads the Bible in Hawarden Church, the Englishbelieve in him. They have no other reason that I can see. Have youheard any Irishman speak well of Gladstone? No, and you never will. How long in the country? Five weeks only? You may stay five years, andyou will not hear a word expressing sincere esteem. About separation?Well, most of the unthinking people, that is, the great majority, would vote in favour of it to-morrow. All sentiment, the very romanceof sentimentality. I have been in England, I have been in America, andyou could hardly believe the difference in the people's views. TheIrish are not practical enough. 'Ireland a nation' is bound to be thenext cry, if Home Rule become law under the present leaders of theNationalist party. " "But how about the pledges, the solemn and reiterated pledges, ofMichael Davitt and the rest?" "I suppose you ask me seriously? You do? An Irishman would regard thequestion as a joke. The pledges are not worth a straw. Their object isto deceive, and so to carry the point at issue. Would John Bull comewith an injured air and say, with tears in his voice, 'You said you'dbe good. You promised to be loyal. You really did. Did you not, now?'Don't you think John would cut a pretty figure? Davitt knows where tohave him. He knows that a quiet, moderate, reasonable tone fetcheshim. Parnell, too, knew that the method with John was a steady, quietpersistence without excitement. John listens to Davitt, and says tohimself, 'Now this is a calm, steady fellow. Nothing fly-away about_him_. No shouting and screaming there. This is the kind of man who_must_ boss the show. Give him what he wants. ' "Look how Morley was taken in. And so, no doubt, was many another. "If England trusts the assurances of these men, and if the bill underpresent conditions becomes law, we shall have two generations ofexperiment, of corruption, of turmoil, of jobbery such as the BritishEmpire has never seen. "Yes, I am a Home Ruler--at the proper time. But Home Rule in ourpresent circumstances would mean revolution, and, a hundred to one, the reconquest of Ireland. And in the event of any foreigncomplication you would have all your work cut out to effect yourpurpose. " A gentleman from Mallow said, "The Gaelic clubs all over the countryare in a high state of organisation, and a perfect state of drill. Thesplendid force of constabulary which are now for you would be againstyou. The Irish Legislature, from the first, would have the power toraise a force of Volunteers, and the Irish are such a military nationthat in six months they could muster a very formidable force. I am aUnionist, a Protestant too, but I find that my Catholic and Home Rulefriends, that is, the superior sort, the best-read, the most thinkingmen, agree with me perfectly. But while I can understand Irish HomeRulers, even the most extreme sort, I cannot understand any sensibleEnglishman entertaining such an insane idea. As manager of one of thelargest concerns in Cork I have made many visits to England, and Ifound the supporters of Mr. Gladstone so utterly misinformed, socredulous, so blankly ignorant of the matter, that I forbore to debatethe thing at all. And their assumption was on a level with theirignorance, which is saying a good deal. " Mr. Thomas Manley, the great horse dealer, a famous characterthroughout the three kingdoms, said to me, "The Limerick horse fair ofThursday last was the worst I ever attended in forty years. There isno money in the country. The little that changed hands was for horsesof a common sort, and every one, I do believe, was bought for Englandand Scotland, tramcar-horses and such like. Home Rule is killing thecountry already. I farmed a thousand acres of land in Ireland for manya long year, and since I went more fully into the horse-dealingbusiness I kept two hundred and fifty acres going. I have horsed thesix crack cavalry regiments of the British army, and I know every nookand corner of Ireland; know, perhaps, every farmer who can breed andrear a horse, and I also know their opinions. Give me the power and Iwould do four things. Here they are:-- "I would first settle the land question, then reform the poor-laws, then rearrange the Grand Jury laws, then commence to reclaim the land, which would pay ten per cent. "The Tories should undertake these measures. They would then knock thebottom out of the Home Rule agitation. The people are downright sickof the whole business. They expected to be well off before this. Theyfind themselves going down the nick. " Mr. Abraham P. Keeley said: "There is much fault found with thelandlords, but they are by no means so much to blame as is supposed. Put the saddle on the right horse. And the right horse is the steamhorse. The rapid transit of grain and general farm produce has loweredthe value of land more rapidly than the landlords could lower therent. Every year the prairie lands of America are further opened up byrailways; India and Egypt and Australia are now in the swim, andIreland, as a purely agricultural country, must suffer. A curiousillustration of the purely rural condition of the country wasmentioned the other day. Nearly all the great towns drink the water ofthe rivers upon which they stand. Cork drinks the Lee; Limerick drinksthe Shannon; you can catch trout from the busiest quay in Limerick. Now, the towns of England don't drink their own rivers. You don'tdrink the Rea at Birmingham, I think?" I was obliged to admit that the pellucid waters of the crystal Reawere not the favourite table beverage of the citizens of Brum, butsubmitted that Mr. Joseph Malins, the Grand Worthy Chief Templar, andhis great and influential following might possibly use this innocentmeans of dissipation. Mr. Thomas Manley continued: "The tenant farmer has cried himself up, and the Nationalists have cried him up as the finest, mostindustrious, most honest, most frugal, most self-sacrificing fellowin the world. But he isn't. Not a bit of it. The landlords and theiragents have over and over again been shot for rack-renting when therents had been forced up by secret competitions among neighbours andeven relations. "Ask any living Irish farmer if I am right, and he will say, Yes, tentimes yes. "The Irishman has a land-hunger such as is unknown over the water. Andwhy? Because the land is his sole means of living. We have noenterprise, no manufactures to speak of. The Celtic nature is tohoard. The Englishman invests what the Irishman would bury in his backgarden, or hang up the chimney in an old stocking. So we have no bigworks all over the country to employ the people. And as we are veryprolific, the only remedy is emigration. Down at Queenstown the otherday I saw 250 Irish emigrants leaving the country. A Nationalistfriend said, 'If they'd only wait a bit till we get Home Rule, theyneedn't go, the crathurs. ' What's to hinder it? How will they bebetter off? Will the land sustain more with Home Rule than without it?And when capital is driven away, as it must and will be the moment wepass the bill, instead of more factories we'll have less, and Englandand Scotland will be over-run with thousands of starving Irish folkswhose means of living is taken away. "As an Irish farmer, and an Irish farmer's son, living on Irish farmsfor more than sixty years, having an intimate acquaintance with thewhole of Ireland, and almost every acre of England, I deliberately saythat the Irish farmer is much better off than the English, Scotch, orWelsh farmer, not only in the matter of law, but in the matter ofsoil. "In many parts of England the soil must be manured after every crop. Every time you take out you must put in. Not so in Ireland. Nature hasbeen so bountiful to us that we can take three, and even six, cropsoff the land after a single dose of manure. Of course the farmergrumbles, and no wonder. The price of stock and general produce is sodepressed that Irish farmers are pinched. But so they are in England. And yet you have no moonlighting. You don't shoot your landlords. Ifthe land will not pay you give it up and take to something else. AnIrishman goes on holding, simply refusing to pay rent. His neighbours, who are in the same fix, support him. When the landlord wishes todistrain, after waiting seven years or so, he has to get a decree. Thetenants know of it as soon as he, and they set sentinels. When thepolice are signalled the cattle are driven away and mixed with thoseof other farmers--every difficulty that Irish cleverness can invent isplaced in the way. Then the landlord, whether or not successful indistraining, is boycotted, and the people reckon it a virtue to shoothim down on sight. Conviction is almost, if not quite, impossible, foreven if you found a willing witness--a very unlikely thing I can tellyou--even then the witness knows himself marked for the same fate. Ifhe went to America or Australia he would be traced, and someone wouldbe found to settle him. Such things have happened over and over again, and people know the risk is great. But about rack-rents. "I have told you of Irish avariciousness in the matter of land, andhave explained the reason of it. Rents have been forced up by peoplegoing behind each other's backs and offering more and more, in theireagerness to acquire the holding outbidding each other. Landlords arehuman; agents, if possible, still more human. They handed over theland to the highest bidder. What more natural? The farmers are notbusiness men. They offered more than the land could pay. You know theresults. But why curse and blaspheme the landlords for what was inmany cases their own deliberate act?" On Friday last I had a small object-lesson in Irish affairs. ColonelO'Callaghan, of Bodyke, went to Limerick to buy cattle for grazing onhis estate. The cattle were duly bought, but the gallant Colonel hadto drive them through the city with his own right hand. I saw hismartial form looming in the rear of a skittish column of cows, andeven as the vulture scenteth the carcase afar off, even so, scentinginteresting matter, did I swoop down on the unhappy Colonel, startlinghim severely with my sudden dash. He said, "I'm driving cows now, "and, truth to tell, there was no denying it. Even as he spoke, aperverse beast of Nationalist tendencies effected a diversion to theright, plainly intending a charge down Denmark Street, _en route_ forIrish Town, and the gallant Colonel waiving ceremony and a formidableshillelagh, hastened by a flank movement to cut off this retreat, andto guide the erring creature in the right way to fresh woods andpastures new. I fired a Parthian arrow after the parting pair. "Appointment?" I shouted, but the Colonel shook his head. It was notime for gentle assignations. The cursed crew in front of him absorbedhis faculties, and then he half expected to be shot from any streetabutting on his path. Perhaps I may nail him yet. He has beenattempting to distrain. If the Colonel refuses to speak I willinterview his tenants. I have said I will pursue, I will overtake, Iwill divide the spoil--with the readers of the _Gazette_. _Dixi. _ I havespoken! There is much shooting on the Bodyke estates, and in Ennisthey say that sixty policemen are stationed there to pick up the game. Nobody has been bagged as yet, but the Clare folks are still hoping. To-morrow a trusty steed will bear me to the spot. Relying on acarefully-considered, carefully-studied Nationalist appearance, ananti-landlord look, and a decided No-Rent expression in my left eye, Ifeel that I could ride through the most dangerous districts withperfect impunity. "Base is the slave that pays, " says Ancient Pistol. That is my present motto. One touch of No Rent makes the Irish kin. The English people should be told that nearly all Irishmen, whetherUnionist or otherwise, are strong Protectionists. The moment Home Rulebecomes law a tremendous attempt will be made to shut out Englishgoods. "The very first thing we do, " said to me an influentialDubliner I met here, "is to double the harbour dues; you can't preventthat, I suppose? The first good result will be the choking-off of allthe Scotch and Manx fishermen who infest our seas. At present theybring their fish into Dublin, whence it is sent all over Ireland, competing against Irish fishermen. Then we'll tax all manufacturedgoods. We will admit the raw material duty-free, but we must bepermitted to know what suits us best, and we must, and will, taxflour, but not wheat. We in Ireland, forsooth, must submit to havingall our flour mills closed to suit the swarming populations ofManchester and Birmingham. They must have a cheap loaf. Dear me! andso flour comes here untaxed, having given employment to people inAmerica, while our folks are walking about idle. Go down the riverBoyne, from Trim to Drogheda. What do you see? Twelve mills, withmachinery worth £100, 000 or more, lying idle. One of those mills onceemployed fifty or sixty men. Now it employs none. Tax flour, I say, and so says everybody. We must have Protection, and very stringentProtection. Irish manufacturers must be sustained against Englishcompetition. Twenty years ago Dublin was a great place for cabinetwork. Now nothing is done there, or next to nothing. Everything mustcome from London. At the same period we did a great trade in leather. The leather trade is gone to the devil. We did a big turnover in bootsand shoes. Now every pair worn in the city comes from Northampton. Ireland and Irish goods for the Irish, and burn everything English butEnglish coals. Give us Home Rule, and all these trades will berestored to us. " Thus spoke the great Home Ruler, who declined to permit his name toappear, as he said it might affect his business. His sentiments areuniversal, and, as I have said, his opinions are shared by the greatmajority of Irishmen, even though professedly Unionist. A word of comment on the patriotic sentiments of my friend. I went toDelany, of George Street, Limerick, for a suit of Blarney tweed. Hehad not a yard in the place. He was indicated as the leading clothierand outfitter of the city, but the Mahony Mills were not representedamongst his patterns. He had Scotch tweeds, Yorkshire tweeds, West ofEngland tweeds, but although the Blarney tweeds are said to be thebest in the world as well as the handsomest, I had to seek themelsewhere. An English friend says, "The Irish politicians are ratherinconsistent. They came into this hotel one evening, six of them, red-hot from a Nationalist meeting, cursing England up hill and downdale, till I really felt quite nervous. I hadn't got a Winchester likethat. (I hope it won't go off. ) They agreed that to boycott Englishgoods was the correct thing, and of course they were for burning allbut English coals, when the leader of the gang said, 'Now, boys, whatwill you drink, ' and hang me! if they didn't every one take a bottleof Bass's bitter beer! Did you ever know such inconsistency?" The quirks and quips of the Irish character would puzzle aPhiladelphia lawyer. Spinning along the lane to Killaloe, with Mr. Beesley, of Leeds, and Mr. Abraham Keeley, of Mallow, balanced onopposite sides of a jaunting car, we came on a semi-savage specimen ofthe genuine Irish sort. Semi-savage! he was seven-eighths savage, andsemi-lunatic, just clever enough to mind the cows and goats which, with a donkey or two, grazed by the way-side. He might befive-and-twenty, and looked strong and lusty. His naked feet wereblack with the dirt of his childhood, and not only black, but shiningand gleaming in the sun. His tattered trousers were completely wornaway to the knee, showing his muscular legs to perfection. The ragsthat clothed his body were confusing and indefinite. You could nottell where one garment ended and another began, or whether there weremore than one at all. Cover a pump with boiling glue, shake over it asack of rags, and you will get an approximate effect of his costume. His tawny, matted hair and beard had never known brush, comb, orsteel. It was a virgin forest. He scratched his head with the air ofthe old woman who said "Forty years long have this generation troubledme;" and ran after the car with outstretched hand. I threw him apenny, upon which he threw himself at full length, his tongue hangingout, a greedy sparkle in his eye. My Irish friend instantly stoppedthe car. "Now I'll show you something. This man is more than half an idiot, butwatch him. " Then he cried: "Come here, now, I'll toss you for the penny. " The man came quickly forward. "Now then, put down your penny, and call. What is it? Head or harp, speak while it spins!" "Head, " shouted the savage, and head it was. He picked up the second penny with glee, and said with a burst of wildlaughter. "Toss more, more, more; toss ever an' always; toss agin, agin, agin. " The car-driver was disgusted. "Bad luck to ye for a madman. Ye havethe gamblin' blood in ye. Bedad, ye'd break Monty Carly, ye would. " Then looking at the gambler's black and polished feet, he said:-- "Tell me, now, honey, is it Day an' Martin's ye use?" Ennis (Co. Clare), April 29th. No. 16. --CIVIL WAR IN COUNTY CLARE. The name of Bodyke is famous throughout all lands, but few people knowanything about the place or the particulars of the great dispute. Thewhole district is at present in a state of complete lawlessness. Thecondition of matters is almost incredible, and is such as mightpossibly be expected in the heart of Africa, but hardly in a civilisedcountry, especially when that country is under the benignant Britishrule. The law-breakers seem to have the upper hand, and to be almost, if not quite, masters of the situation. The whole estate is dividedinto three properties, Fort Ann, Milltown, and Bodyke, about fivethousand acres in all, of which the first two comprise about onethousand five hundred acres, isolated from the Bodyke lands, whichlatter may amount to some three thousand five hundred acres. Either byreason of their superior honesty, or, as is sometimes suggested, onaccount of their inferior strategic position, the tenants of the FortAnn and Milltown lands pay their rent. The men of Bodyke are in astate of open rebellion, and resist every process of law both byevasion and open force. The hill-tops are manned by sentries armedwith rifles. Bivouac fires blaze nightly on every commanding eminence. Colonel O'Callaghan's agent is a cock-shot from every convenientmound. His rides are made musical by the 'ping' of rifle balls, andnothing but the dread of his repeating rifle, with which he is knownto be handy, prevents the marksmen from coming to close quarters. Mr. Stannard MacAdam seems to bear a charmed life. He is a fine athleticyoung man, calm and collected, modest and unassuming, and, as hedeclares, no talker. He has been described as a man of deeds, notwords. He said, "I am not a literary man. I have not the skill todescribe incident, or to give a clear and detailed account of what hastaken place. I have refused to give information to the localjournalists. My business is to manage the estate, and that takes meall my time. You must get particulars elsewhere. I would rather notspeak of my own affairs or those of Colonel O'Callaghan. " There was nothing for it but to turn my unwilling back on thisveritable gold mine. But although Mr. MacAdam could not or would notspeak, others were not so reticent, and once in the neighbourhood thestate of things was made plainly evident. The road from Ennis toBodyke is dull and dreary, and abounds with painful memories. Half-an-hour out you reach the house, or what remains of it, ofFrancis Hynes, who was hanged for shooting a man. A little further andyou reach the place where Mr. Perry was shot. A wooded spot, "convaynient" for ambush, once screened some would-be murderers whomissed their mark. Then comes the house of the Misses Brown, in whichon Christmas Eve shots were fired, by way of celebrating the festiveseason. From a clump of trees some four hundred yards from the roadthe police on a car were fired upon, the horse being shot dead in histracks. The tenantry of this sweet district are keeping up their riflepractice, and competent judges say that the Bodyke men possess notless than fifty rifles, none of which can be found by the police. Saidone of the constabulary, "They lack nerve to fire from shorterdistances, as they think MacAdam is the better shot, and to miss himwould be risky, as he is known to shoot rabbits with ball cartridge. At the same time, I remember Burke of Loughrea, who was shot, hadalso a fine reputation as a rifleman, but they settled him neatlyenough. I saw him in the Railway Inn, Athenry, just before he waskilled, with a repeating rifle slung on his back and a revolver on hiship. I saw him ride away, his servant driving while Burke kept thecocked rifle ready, the butt under his armpit, the trigger in hishand. He sat with his back to the horse, keeping a good look-out, andyet they shot both him and his servant as they galloped along. Thehorse and car came in without them. To carry arms is therefore not acomplete security, though no doubt it is, to some extent, a deterrent. But my opinion is that when a man is ordered to be shot he will beshot. Clare swarms with secret societies, and you never know from onemoment to another what resolutions they will pass. I don't know whatthe end of it will be, but I should think that Home Rule, by givingthe murderers a fancied security, would in this district lead towholesale bloodshed. The whole country would rise, as they do now, tomeet the landlord or his agent, but they would then do murder withoutthe smallest hesitation. " His companion said--the police here are never alone--"The first thingMorley did was to rescind the Crimes Act. When we heard of that wesaid 'Now it's coming. ' And we've got it. Every man with a head onhim, and not a turnip, knew very well what would happen. The policeare shot at till they take no notice of it. Sometimes we charge up thehills to the spot where the firing started, but among the rocks andravines and hills and holes they run like rabbits, or they hand theirarms to some fleet-footed chap to hide, while they stay--aye, they do, they actually stand their ground till we come, and there they areworking at a hedge or digging the ground, and looking as innocent andstupid as possible. They never saw anybody, and never heard anyfiring--or they thought it was the Colonel shooting a hare. We hardlyknow what to do in doubtful cases, as we know the tenants have thesupport of the Government, and it is as much as our places are worthto make any mistake under present circumstances. The tenants know thattoo, so between them and Morley we feel between two fires. " The trouble has been alive for fifteen years or so, but it was notuntil 1887 that Bodyke became a regularly historic place. The tenantshad paid no rent for years, and wholesale evictions were tried, butwithout effect. The people walked in again the next day, and as thegallant Colonel had not an army division at his back he was obliged toconfess himself beaten at every point. He went in for arbitration, butbefore giving details let us first take a bird's eye view of hisposition. I will endeavour to state the case as fairly as possible, premising that nothing will be given beyond what is freely admitted byboth parties to the dispute. The Colonel, who is a powerfully-built, bronzed, and active man, seemingly over sixty years old, left the service just forty years ago. Four years before that his father had died, heavily in debt, leavingthe estate encumbered by a mortgage, a jointure to the relict, Mrs. O'Callaghan, now deceased (the said jointure being at that timeseveral years in arrear), a head rent of a hundred guineas a year toColonel Patterson, with taxes, tithe rent-charges, and heaven knowswhat besides. In 1846 and 1847 his father had made considerablereductions in the rents of the Bodyke holdings, but the tenants hadcontrived to fall into arrears to the respectable tune of £6, 000, orthereabouts. Such was the state of things when the heir came into hishappy possessions. A Protestant clergyman said to me--"Land in Ireland is likeself-righteousness. The more you have, the worse off you are. " Thuswas it at Bodyke. Something had to be done. To ask the tenants for the £6, 000 was merewaste of breath. The young soldier had no agent. He was determined tobe the people's friend. Although a Black Protestant, he was ambitiousof Catholic good-will. He wanted to have the tenants blessing him. Hecoveted the good name which is better than rubies. He wished to makethings comfortable, to be a general benefactor of his species; if aProtestant landlord and a Roman Catholic tenantry can be said to be ofthe same species at all, a point which, according to the Nationalistpress, is at least doubtful. He called the tenants together, andagreed to accept three hundred pounds for the six thousand poundslegally due, so as to make a fresh start and encourage the people towalk in the paths of righteousness. When times began to mend, theColonel himself a farmer, commenced to raise the rents until theyreached the amount paid during his father's reign. The people stood itquietly enough until 1879, when the Colonel appointed agents. Thisyear was one of agricultural depression. A Mr. Willis succeeded thetwo first agents, but during the troubles he resigned his charge. Thepopular opinion leans to the supposition that his administration wasineffective, that is, that he was comparatively unused to fieldstrategy, that he lacked dash and military resource, and that heentertained a constitutional objection to being shot. The rents cameunder the judicial arrangement, and reductions were made. Still thingswould not work smoothly, and it was agreed that bad years should befurther considered on rent days. This agreement led to reductions onthe judicial rent of 25 to 30 per cent. , besides which the Colonel, inthe arbitration of 1887, had accepted £1, 000 in lieu of severalthousand pounds of arrears then due. After November, 1891, the tenantsceased to pay rent at all, and that is practically their presentposition. The Colonel, who being himself an experienced farmer is acompetent judge of agricultural affairs, thinks the tenants are ableto pay, and even believes that they are willing, were it not for theintimidation of half-a-score village ruffians whose threatenedmoonlighting exploits, when considered in conjunction with the bloodydeeds which have characterised the district up to recent times, aresufficient to paralyse the whole force of the British Empire, whenthat force is directed by the feeble fumblers now in office. That they can pay if they will, is clearly proved by recentoccurrences. Let us abandon ancient history and bring our story downto date. The number of incidents is so great, and the complicationsarising from local customs and prejudices are so bewildering that onlyafter much inquiry have I been able to sort from the tangled web a fewclear and understandable instances, which, however, may be taken as afair sample of the whole. New brooms sweep clean. The new agent, Mr. MacAdam, began tonegotiate. Pow-wows and palavers all ended in smoke, and as meanwhilethe charges on the estate were going on merrily, and no money wascoming in to meet them, writs were issued against six of the best-offfarmers; writs, not decrees, the writ being a more effectiveinstrument. One Malone was evicted. He was a married man, withoutencumbrances, owed several years' arrears, had mismanaged his farm, areally good bit of land, had been forgiven a lot of rent, and still hewas not happy. A relative had lent him nearly £200 to carry on, butMalone was a bottomless pit. What he required was a gold mine and aman to shovel up the ore, but unhappily no such thing existed on thefarm. The relative offered to take the land, believing that he couldsoon recoup himself the loan, but Malone held on with iron grip, refusing to listen to the voice of the charmer, charmed he never sowisely. The relative wished to take the place at the judicial rent, and offered to give Malone the house, grass for a cow, and the use ofthree acres of land. Malone declined to make any change, and as a lastresort it was decided to evict him. On the auspicious day MacAdamarrived from Limerick, accompanied by two men from Dublin, whom heproposed to instal as caretakers in Malone's house. The Sheriff'sparty were late, and MacAdam, waiting at some distance, was discoveredand the alarm given. Horns were blown, the chapel bell was rung, thewhole country turned out in force. Anticipating seizure, the peopledrove away their cattle, and shortly no hoof nor horn was visible inthe district. A crowd collected and, observing the caretakers, at oncedivined their mission, and perceived that not seizure, but eviction, was the order of the day. They rushed to Malone's house, and, with hisconsent and assistance, tore off the roof, smashed the windows, anddemolished the doors. The place was thus rendered uninhabitable. This having been happily effected, the Sheriff's party arrived an houror so late, in the Irish fashion. Possession was formally given to theagent, who was now free to revel in the four bare walls, and to enjoythe highly-ventilated condition of the building. The crowd became moreand more threatening, and if they could have mustered pluck to run inon the loaded rifles, Sheriff, agent, and escort must have beenmurdered without mercy. The shouting and threatening were heard twomiles away. But the tenants had taken other measures. A firing partywas posted on a neighbouring hill, and as the Sheriff left the shelterof the walls a volley was poured in from a clump of trees fourhundred yards away, one bullet narrowly missing a man who ducked atthe flash. The riflemen were visible among the trees, and the Sheriffreturned the fire. Several policemen also fired into the clump, butwithout effect, and their fire was briskly returned from the hill, this time just missing the head of a policeman covered by a bush, abullet cutting off a branch close to his ear. The police then preparedto charge up the hill, when the firing party decamped. No arrests weremade, although the marksmen must have been dwellers in theneighbourhood. A policeman said, "We know who they are; you can'tconceal these things in a country place; but we have no legalevidence, and although we saw them at four hundred yards, who willaccept our identification at such a distance? And of course no jurywould convict. We have no remedy in this unfortunate country. So longas Gladstone and such folks are bidding for the people's votes so longwe shall have lawlessness. But for the change of Government all wouldlong have been settled amicably. But I heard a young priest say to thepeople, 'Hold on a bit till the new Government goes in. '" To return to the Malone affair, Mr. MacAdam applied to the police forresident protection not for himself, but for the caretakers, whom henow proposed to instal in a farmhouse in the occupation of one of theColonel's servants, and from which no one had been evicted. Theauthorities refused protection on the very remarkable plea that thesituation of the aforesaid premises was so dangerous! so that had theplace been quite safe, they would have consented to protect it. MacAdam determined to carry out his plan, with or without protection. He left Limerick at midnight with an ammunition and provision train ofseven cars, with two caretakers and four workmen, with materials tofortify the place. He had previously given the authorities notice thathe meant to occupy Knockclare, the house in question, and before hestarted they sent a police-sergeant from Tulla, a twenty miles drive, to formally warn him off, for that his life would assuredly be taken, and the officer also demanded that he should be permitted topersonally warn the caretakers of the risk they ran. This was granted, but the men stuck to their guns. At the eviction a man had funked, frightened out of his seven senses. The police declined allresponsibility, but offered to guard the farm for a shilling per manper day. MacAdam thought this proposal without precedent, and left thepolice to their own devices, driving along the twenty miles of hillyroad, with sorry steeds that refused the last hill, so that the loadshad to be pushed and carried up by the men. This was at eight or ninein the morning, after many hours' toilsome march. The fun was not overyet. Like the penny show, it was "just a-goin' to begin. " The crowd turned out and with awful threats of instant death menacedthe lives of the party, who, with levelled rifles, at last gained thebuilding. The people brought boards, and showed the caretakers theircoffins in the rough. They spoke of shooting, and swore they wouldroast them alive that night by burning the house in which they weresheltered. A shot was fired at MacAdam. A sergeant with one manarrived from Tulla police-barracks and urged the party to leave beforethey were murdered. MacAdam would hold his post at all risks. Latereight armed policemen arrived, and then two carmen started to go home. A wall of stones blocked the road. They somehow got over that, andfound a second wall a little further on. Here was a menacing crowd, and the police who followed the car drew their revolvers, and withgreat determination advanced on the mob, saving the carmen's lives, for which they were publicly praised from the Bench. But the jarveysreturned, and by a circuitous route reached Limerick viâ Killaloe, thanking Heaven for their whole skins, and vowing never to so riskthem again. The County Inspector who refused the party policeprotection explained that he did so "out of regard for the safety ofhis men. " He said, "I had more than Mr. MacAdam and his party toconsider. I must preserve the lives of the men in my charge. " At present the two caretakers hold the citadel, which is alsogarrisoned by a force of sixteen policemen regularly relieved by dayand by night, every man armed to the teeth. Now and then the foinestpisintry in the wuruld turn out to the neighbouring hills and blazeaway with rifles at the doors and windows of the little barn-likestructure. The marksmen want a competent instructor. Anyone who knowsanything of shooting knows the high art and scientific knowledgerequired for long-range rifle practice. These men are willing, butthey lack science. Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, Rich withthe spoils of time, has ne'er unrolled. Mr. Gladstone might bring overfrom the Transvaal a number of the Boers whose shooting impressed himso much to coach these humble Kelts in the mysteries of rifleshooting. Such a measure would perceptibly accelerate the passage ofthe Home Rule Bill. Such is the state of things in Bodyke at this moment. ColonelO'Callaghan has had no penny of rent for years--that is, nothing forhimself. What has been paid by the tenants of Fort Ann and Milltownhas been barely sufficient to meet the charges on the estate. TheColonel thinks that the more he concedes the more his people want. Hehas had many narrow escapes from shooting, and rather expects to bebagged at last. He seems to be constitutionally unconscious of fear, but the police, against his wish, watch over him. In the few instancesin which Mr. MacAdam, his agent, has effected seizures, the peoplehave immediately paid up--have simply walked into their houses, brought out the money, and planked down the rent with all expenses, the latter amounting to some 20 or 25 per cent. They _can_ pay. TheColonel, who lives by farming, having no other source of income, knowstheir respective positions exactly, and declines to be humbugged. Thetenants believe that they will shortly have the land for nothing, andthey are content to remain in a state of siege, themselvesbeleaguering the investing force, lodged in the centre of theposition. The fields are desolate, tillage is suspended, and the wholeof the cattle are driven out of sight. Armed men watch each other bynight and by day, and bloodshed may take place at any moment. Thefarming operations of the whole region are disorganised and out ofjoint. Six men have been arrested for threats and violence, but allwere discharged--the jury would not convict, although the judge saidthe evidence for the defence was of itself sufficient to convict thegang. A ruffian sprang on MacAdam with an open knife, swearing hewould disembowel him. After a terrible struggle the man was disarmedand secured, brought up before the beak, and the offence proved to thehilt. This gentleman was dismissed without a stain on his character. MacAdam asked that he should at least be bound over to keep the peace. This small boon was refused. Comment is needless. How long are theEnglish people going to stand this Morley-Gladstone management? I have not yet been able to interview Colonel O'Callaghan himself, butmy information, backed by my own observation, may be relied on asaccurate. The carman who drove me hither said "The Bodyke boys aredacent fellows, but they must have their sport. Tis their nature to beshootin' folks, an' ye can't find fault with a snipe for havin' a longbill. An' they murther ye in sich a tinder-hearted way that noraisonable landlord could have any objection to it. " I have the honour of again remarking that Ireland is a wonderfulcountry. Bodyke (Co. Clare), May 2nd. No. 17. --RENT AT THE ROOT OF NATIONALISM. The tenants of the Bodyke property stigmatise Colonel O'Callaghan asthe worst landlord in the world, and declare themselves totally unableto pay the rent demanded, and even in some cases say that they cannotpay any rent at all, a statement which is effectually contradicted bythe fact that most of them pay up when fairly out-generalled by thedashing strategy of Mr. Stannard MacAdam, whose experience as a racingbicyclist seems to have stood him in good stead. The country aboutBodyke has an unfertile look, a stony, boggy, barren appearance. Hereand there are patches of tolerable land, but the district cannotfairly be called a garden of Eden. Being desirous of hearing bothsides of the question, I have conversed with several of thecomplaining farmers, most of whom have very small holdings, if theirsize be reckoned by the rent demanded. The farmers' homes are notluxurious, but the rural standard of luxury is in Ireland everywherefar below that of the English cottar, who would hold up his hands indismay if required to accommodate himself to such surroundings. Briefly stated, the case of the tenants is based on an allegedagreement on the part of Colonel O'Callaghan to make a reduction oftwenty-five per cent. On judicial rents and thirty-seven and a halfper cent. On non-judicial rents, whenever the farming season provedunfavourable. This was duly carried out until 1891, when the questionarose as to whether that was or was not a bad year. The tenants saythat 1891 was abnormally bad for them, but that on attending to paytheir rent, believing that the reductions which had formerly beenmade, and which they had come to regard as invariable, would againtake place, they were told that the customary rebate would now ceaseand determine, and that therefore they were expected to pay theirrents in full. This they profess to regard as a flagrant breach offaith, and they at once decided to pay no rent at all. The positionbecame a deadlock, and such it still remains. They affect to believethat the last agent, Mr. Willis, resigned his post out of sheersympathy, and not because he feared sudden translation to a brightersphere. They complain that the Colonel's stables are too handsome, andthat they themselves live in cabins less luxurious than the lodgingsof the landlord's horses. There is no epithet too strong to expresstheir indignation against the devoted Colonel, who was described byone imaginative peasant, who had worked himself up to a sort ofdescriptive convulsion, as a "Rawhacious Vagabone, " a fine instance ofextemporaneous word-coining of the ideo-phonetic school, which willdoubtless be greedily accepted by Nationalist Parliamentarians who, long ago, exhausted their vocabulary of expletives in dealing with Mr. Gladstone and each other. The Bodykers have one leading idea, to "wait yet awhile. " Home Rulewill banish the landlords, and give the people the land for nothing atall. The peasantry are mostly fine-grown men, well-built andwell-nourished, bearing no external trace of the hardships they claimto have endured. They are civil and obliging, and thoroughly inured tothe interviewer. They have a peculiar accent, of a sing-songcharacter, which now and then threatens to break down the stranger'sgravity. That the present state of things is intolerable, and cannotlast much longer, they freely admit, but they claim to have the tacitsympathy of the present Government, and gleefully relate with whatunwillingness police protection was granted to the agent and his men. They disclaim any intention of shooting or otherwise murdering thelandlord or his officers, and assert that the fact that they stilllive is sufficient evidence in this direction. Said one white-headedman of gentle, deferential manner:-- "The days o' landlord shootin' is gone by. If the Boys wanted to shootthe Colonel what's to hinder them? Would his double-barrel protecthim, or the four dogs he has about him, that he sends sniffin' an'growlin' about the threes an' ditches. If the word wint out hewouldn't live a day, nor his agint nayther. An' his durty emergencymen, that's posted like spies at the house beyant, could be potted anytime they showed their noses. An' couldn't we starve thim out?Couldn't we cut off their provisions? Why would we commit murther whinwe have only to wait till things turn round, which wid the help of Godwill be afore long. We're harassed an' throubled, always pullin' thedivil by the tail, but that won't last for ever. We'll have our ownmen, that ondershtands Oireland, to put us right, an' then O'Callaghanan' all his durty thribe'll be fired out of the counthry before ye cansay black's the white o' my eye; an' black curses go wid thim. " The caretakers are not accessible. Stringent orders forbid the givingof information to any person whatever. This is unfortunate, as a lookat their diaries would prove amusing. They must feel like rabbitsliving in a burrow bored in a sporting district, or the man in theiron mask, or the late respected Damocles, or the gentleman who sawthe handwriting on the wall. Their sleep must be troubled. They musthave ugly dreams of treasons, stratagems, and spoils, and when theywake, swearing a prayer or two, they doubtless see through the gloom, MENE, MENE, TEKEL, UPHARSIN (I quote from memory), in lurid letters onthe ceiling of their stronghold. Their waking visions and their dailytalk must be of guns and pikes, of graves and coffins, shrouds andskeletons. Perhaps they, like Mr. MacAdam and some others, havereceived missives sprinkled with blood, and ornamented with skulls andcross-bones, those famous national emblems which the Irish tenantsketches with a rude, untutored art; bold, freehand drawings, done ingore by hereditary instinct. It may be that they see the newspapers, that they learn how the other day the house of a caretaker atTipperary was, by incendiaries, burned to the ground, the poor fellowat the time suffering from lockjaw, taking his food with difficulty, owing to his having some time previously been shot through the face. Or they may read of the shooting case at Castleisland, and how Mr. Magilicuddy suggests that such cases be made public, that the peoplemay know something of the present lawlessness of the country, or ofthe narrow squeak of Mr. Walshe, a schoolmaster, living just outsideEnnis, who barely escaped with his life from two bullets, fired athim, because his wife had been appointed mistress of the girls; or thesad affair of Mr. Blood of the same district, who being an admittedlykind and amiable man, is compelled to be always under the escort offour armed policemen for that he did discharge a herdman without firstasking permission from the local patriots. Or they may meditate on thefate of the old man near Clonmel, who was so beaten that he has sincedied, his daughter, who might have aided him, having first beenfastened in her room. These and a hundred similar instances of outrageand attempted murder have crept into print during the last few days. Red ruin and the breaking-up of laws herald the Home Rule Bill. Andif the premonitory symptoms be thus severe, how shall we doctor thedisease itself? The other day I stumbled on Mr. Lynn, of Dublin, whom I first met atthe Queen's Hotel, Portadown, County Armagh. He said, "We ought toknow what the Home Rule Bill will do. We know the materials of whichthe dish is composed, we have seen their preparation and mixing, wenow have the process of cooking before us, and when we get it it willgive us indigestion. " The Bodykers have a new grievance, one of most recent date. They hadfound a delightful means of evasion, which for a time worked well, butthe bottom has been knocked out of it, and their legal knowledge hasproved of no avail. To pay rent whenever a seizure was effected wasvoted a bore, a calamitous abandonment of principle, and a loss ofmoney which might be better applied. So that when MacAdam made hislatest seizures, say on the land of Brown and Jones, theseout-manoeuvred tenants brought forward friends named Smith andRobinson who deeply swore and filed affidavits to the effect that thecattle so seized belonged to them, Smith and Robinson to wit, and notto the afore-mentioned Brown and Jones, on whose land they were found. Here was a pretty kettle of fish. Colonel O'Callaghan, or his agent, were processed for illegal distraint, and the evidence being deadagainst the landlord, that fell tyrant had on several occasions todisgorge his prey, whereat there was great rejoicing in Bodyke. Thenew agent, however, is a tough customer, and in his quality of Clerkof Petty Sessions dabbles in legal lore. He found an Act whichprovides that, after due formalities, distraint may be made on anycattle found on the land in respect of which rent is due, no matter towhom the said cattle may belong. The tenants are said to have beenarranging an amicable interchange of grazing land, the cows of Smithfeeding on the land of Brown, and _vice versâ_, so that the affidavitagreement might have some colour of decency. The ancient Actdiscovered by the ardent MacAdam has rendered null and void thisproposed fraternal reciprocity, and the order to conceal every hoofand horn pending discovery of the right answer to this last atrocityhas been punctually obeyed, the local papers slanging landlord andagent, but seemingly unable to find the proper countermine. No end ofdetails and of incident might be given, but no substantial increasecould be made to the information, given in this and my precedingletter. The tenants say that the landlord perversely refuses thereductions allowed in better times, and the landlord says that as apractical farmer he believes that those upon whom he has distrained orattempted to distrain are able to pay in full. He declares that he hasnot proceeded against those who from any cause are unable to meettheir obligations, but only against the well-to-do men, who, havingthe money in hand, are deliberately withholding his just andreasonable due, taking advantage of the disturbed state of the countryand the weakness of the Government to benefit themselves, regardlessof the suffering their selfishness entails on innocent people. In striking contrast to the turbulence of the Bodyke men is thepeaceful calm of the Castleconnel people. I have had several pleasantinterviews with Lady de Burgho, whose territory embraces some sixtythousand acres, and who, during a widowed life of twenty-two years, has borne the stress and strain of Irish estate administration, withits eternal and wearisome chopping and changing of law, itslabyrinthine complications, its killing responsibilities. Lady deBurgho is, after all, very far from dead, exhibiting in fact amarvellous vitality, and discoursing of the ins and outs of thevarious harassing Land Acts, and the astute diplomacy needful to savesomething from the wreck, with a light, airy vivacity, and a richnative humour irresistibly charming. The recital of her troubles, losses, and burdens, the dodgery and trickery of legal luminaries, andthe total extinction of rent profits is delivered with an easy grace, and with the colour and effervescence of sparkling Burgundy. To bedeprived of nine-tenths of your income seems remarkably good fun; tobe ruined, an enviable kind of thing. Lady de Burgho commenced herreign with one fixed principle, from which nothing has ever inducedher to deviate. Under no conceivable circumstances would she alloweviction. No agent could induce her to sign a writ. "I could not sleepif I had turned out an Irish family, " says Lady de Burgho, adding, with great sagacity, "and besides eviction never does any good. " Sothat this amiable lady has the affections of her people, if shehandles not their cash. And who shall estimate the heart's purefeelings? Saith not the wisest of men that a good report maketh thebones fat? Is not the goodwill of the foinest pisintry in the wuruldmore to be desired than much fine gold? Is it not sweeter also thanhoney or the honeycomb? Certain mortgagees who wished to appropriate certain lands offeredliberal terms to Lady de Burgho on condition that she would for threeyears absent herself from Ireland, holding no communication with hertenants during that period. Lady de Burgho objected. She said, "If Iaccepted your terms my people on my return would believe, and theywould be justified in believing, that I had been for three yearsincarcerated in a lunatic asylum. " Tableau! Three American gentlemenvisiting Castleconnel told Lady de Burgho that the success of thepresent agitation in favour of Home Rule would be the first steptowards making Ireland an American dependency, a pronouncement whichis not without substantial foundation. The feeling of the masses istowards America, and away from England. To the New World, where aremore Irish than in Ireland (so they say) the poorer classes look withsteadfast eye. To them America is the chief end of man, the earthlyParadise, the promised land, the El Dorado, a heaven upon earth. Everyable-bodied man is saving up to pay his passage, every good-lookinggirl is anxious to give herself a better chance in the States. Nearlyall have relatives to give them a start, and glowing letters fromfortunate emigrants are the theme of every village. The effect ofthese epistles is obvious enough. Home Rule, say the Nationalists, will stop emigration. That this is with them a matter of hope, orpious belief, is made clear by their conversation. They give no goodreason for their faith. They are cornered with consummate ease. Theplausibilities gorged by Gladstonian gulls do not go down in Ireland. They are not offered to Irishmen. "Made in Ireland for English gabies"should be branded upon them. The most convincing arguments against thebill are those adduced by Home Rulers in its favour. Here is afaithful statement of reasons for Home Rule, as given by AldermanDowning, of Limerick, and another gentleman then present whose name Iknow not:-- "When you allow the Irish Legislature to frame its own laws, disorderand outrage will be put down with an iron hand. We have no law atpresent. Put an Irish Parliament in Dublin, and we would arrange tohang up moonlighters to the nearest tree. Everybody would support thelaw if imposed from Dublin. They resent it as imposed by Englishmen inLondon. " "I am not in favour of handing over the government of Ireland to thepresent leaders of the Irish party. I believe that, once granted HomeRule, they would disappear into private life, and that we shouldreplace them by better men. What reason for believing this? Oh, Ithink the people would begin to feel their responsibility. Do I thinkthe idea of 'responsibility' is their leading idea? Perhaps not atthis moment, but they will improve. You think that the people may befairly expected to return the same class of men? Perhaps so. I hopenot. I should think they would see the necessity of sending men ofposition and property. Why don't they send them now? Simply becausethey won't come forward; that class of men do not believe in HomeRule. " I humbly submitted that this would prevent their coming forward infuture, and that if Home Rule were admittedly bad under the presentleaders, there was really no case to go to a jury, as there was noevidence before the court to show that the leaders would be dropped. On the contrary, there was every probability that the victoriouspromoters of the bill would be returned by acclamation. Further, thatif Home Rule be gladly accepted as a pearl of great price, to drop thegainers thereof, to dismiss the men who had borne the burden and heatof the day, would be an act of shabbiness unworthy the proverbialgratitude and generosity of the Irish people. Alderman Downing would only exclude them from Parliamentary place, andwould not exclude all even then. The bulk of them might be found somesort of situation where decent salaries would atone for the dropping. Would that be jobbery? "Ah, you ask too many questions. " Let it be noted that although the greater part of the IrishNationalist members are everywhere rejected beforehand by superiorHome Rulers, as unfit for an Irish Parliament, they are apparently forthat very reason sent to the House of Commons as the best sort totease the brutal Saxon. The bulldog is not the noblest, nor thehandsomest, nor the swiftest, nor the most faithful, nor the mostsagacious, nor the most pleasant companion of the canine world, but heis a good 'un to hang on the nose of the bull. The Great Unknown said: "You must admit that English Rule has not been a success. Home Rule isadmittedly an experiment--well, yes, I will accept the word risk--HomeRule is admittedly, to some extent, a risk, but let us try it. And ifthe worst comes to the worst we can go back again to the oldarrangement. " The speaker was a kindly gentleman of sixty or sixty-five years, and, like Alderman Downing, spoke in a reasonable, moderate tone. Doubtlessboth are excellent citizens, men of considerable position andinfluence, certainly very pleasant companions, and, to all appearance, well-read, well-informed men. And yet, in the presence of UnionistIrishmen, the above-mentioned arguments were all they ventured tooffer. Arguments, quotha? Is the hope that the ignorant peasantry ofIreland will return "the better class of men, " who "do not believe inHome Rule" an argument? Is the as-you-were assertion an argument? Whatwould the Irish say if Mr. Bull suggested this movement ofretrogression? We should have Father Hayes, the friend of FatherHumphreys, again calling for "dynamite, for the lightnings of heavenand the fires of hell, to pulverise every British cur intotop-dressing for the soil. " We should have Father Humphreys himselfwriting ill-spelt letters to the press, and denouncing all liars aspoachers on his own preserves. We should have Dillon and O'Brien andtheir crew again leading their ignorant countrymen to the treadmill, while the true culprits stalked the streets wearing lemon-coloured kidgloves purchased with the hard-earned and slowly-accumulated cents ofIrish-American slaveys. The Protestants would be denounced as theblackest, cruellest, most callous slave-drivers on God's earth. Andthis reminds me of something. Doctor O'Shaughnessy, of Limerick, is the most wonderful man inIreland. His diploma was duly secured in 1826, and Daniel O'Connellwas his most intimate friend, and also his patient. The Doctor livedlong in London, and was a regular attendant at the House of Commons upto 1832. Twice he fought Limerick for his son, and twice he woneasily. The city is now represented by Mr. O'Keefe, and Mr. O'Shaughnessy is a Commissioner of the Board of Works in Dublin. TheDoctor has conferred with Earl Spencer on grave and weighty matters, and doubtless his opinion on Irish questions is of greatest value. Hispupil and his fellow-student, Dr. Kidd and Dr. Quain (I forget whichis which), met at the bedside of Lord Beaconsfield, and medical menadmit the doctor's professional eminence. His eighty-four years sitlightly upon him. He looks no more than fifty at most, is straight asa reed, active as a hare, runs upstairs like a boy of fourteen, hasthe clear blue eye and fresh rosy skin of a young man. He would givethe Grand Old Man fifty in a hundred and beat him out of his boots. Hemight be Mr. Gladstone's son, if he were only fond of jam. The Doctorsaid several hundred good things which I would like to print, but asour many conferences were unofficial this would be hardly fair. However, I feel sure Doctor O'Shaughnessy will forgive my repeatingone statement of his--premising that the Doctor is a devout Catholic, and that he knows all about land. "The Protestants are not the worst landlords. The hardest men, themost unyielding men the tenants have to meet are the Roman Catholiclandlords, the new men. " Here is some food for thought. These few words, properly considered, cover much ground. The Doctor is a Home Ruler, an ardent lover of hiscountry, one of the best of the many high-minded men I have met inIreland. Were such as he in the forefront of the battle, John Bullmight hand the Irish a blank cheque. The consciousness of trust is ofall things most binding on men of integrity. But for Mr. Gladstone tohand the honour of England to Horsewhipped Healy and Breeches O'Brien, showing his confidence in them by permitting it to be taken round thecorner--that is a different thing. I forgot to mention a remarkablefeature in the history of Limerick City, a parallel of which is foundin the apocryphal castle in England for which the unique distinctionis claimed that Queen Elizabeth never slept there. And so far as I canlearn, Tim Healy has not yet been horsewhipped in Limerick. Bodyke (Co. Clare), May 2nd. No. 18. --HARD FACTS FOR ENGLISH READERS. Cort is a quiet wayside country town about forty miles from Limerick, a little oasis of trees and flowers, with a clear winding trout-streamrunning all about it. The streets are wide, the houses well-built, thepavements kerbed and in good condition. Trees are bigger and morenumerous than usual, and the place has a generally bowery appearancesuch as is uncommon in Ireland, which is not famous for its timber. Trees are in many parts the grand desideratum, the one thing needfulto perfect the beauty of the scenery, but Ireland as compared withEngland, France, Holland, Belgium, or Germany may almost be called atreeless country. Strange to say, the Home Rule Bill, which affectseverything, threatens to deprive the country of its few remainingtrees. A Scotsman resident thirteen years in Ireland said to me:-- "The timber you see lying there is not American, but Irish. The peoplewho have timber are in many cases cutting it down, because theyforesee a state of general insecurity and depression, and they needall the cash they can command. But there is another reason for thedeforesting of the country, which is--that if Home Rule becomes law, the landowners are disposed to believe that no allowance will be madefor the timber which may be on the land when the land is sold to thetenant under some unknown Act to be passed at some future day. " Thisfits into the point raised by a tenant farmer living just outside thetown, an extraordinary character said to rise at seven o'clock in themorning. He said:-- "They say the farmer is to get the land--but what then? Somebody mustown the land, and whoever has it will be reckoned a bloody tyrant. Won't the owner be a landlord? No, say they, no more landlords at all, at all. But isn't that nonsense, says I? If ye split up the land intopatches as big as yer hand and give every man a patch, wouldn't somemen have twenty or a hundred, or maybe a thousand patches in fiveyears? An' thin, thim that was lazy an' wasteful an' got out o' theirland would be for shootin' the savin', sthrivin' man that worked hisway up by buying out the drones. For wouldn't he be a landlord themoment he stopped workin' all the land himself. An' that would be sureto happen at wanst. Lord Gough is landlord here, an' ye'll not betterhim in Ireland. Look at the town there--all built of stone an' paved, wid a fine public well in the square, an' a weigh-house, an' thegroves of lilac an' laburnums all out in flower an' dippin' in thewather; where ye may catch mighty fine trout out iv yer bedroomwindow, bedad ye may, or out of yer kitchin, an' draw them out iv thewather an' dhrop thim in' the fryin' pan off the hook with the bait intheir mouths, an' their tails waggin', finishing their brakefaststhimselves while they get yours ready! Throth ye can. None iv us thathas any sinse belaves in Home Rule. 'Tis only the ignorant that'llbelave anything. No, we're quiet hereabouts, never shot anybody, an'not likely to. Yes, the Protestant Church is iligant enough, butthere's very few Protestants hereabouts. It's the gentry an' mostrespectable folks that's Protestants. Protestants gets on because theykape their shops cleaner, an' has more taste, an' we'd sooner belavethim an' thrust thim that they'd kape their word an' not chate ye, than our own people. Yes, 'tis indeed quare, but it's thrue. The verypriests won't deny it. An' another thing they wouldn't deny. Themurtherin', sweatin' landlords that'll grind the very soul out ofye--who are they? Tell me now. Just the small men that have got up outof the muck. 'Tisn't the gintry at all. The gintry will wait a year, three years, five years, seven years for rint. The man that bought hisfarm or two wid borrowed money won't wait a day. 'Out ye go, an'bloody end to ye, ' says he. Ye don't hear of thim evictions. The manthat sint it to the paper would get bate--or worse. "An' some of the little houldhers says, 'Pat, ' says they, 'what'll wedo wid the money whin we've no taxes to pay?' 'Tis what they're tould, the crathurs. God help them, but they're mighty ignorant. " Those who ridicule the assertions of Protestants and CatholicUnionists with reference to the lack of liberty may explain away whatwas told me by Mr. J. B. Barrington, brother of Sir Charles Barrington, a name of might in Mid-Ireland. He said, "Someone in our neighbourhoodwent about getting signatures to a petition against the Home RuleBill. Among others who signed it was Captain Croker's carpenter, whosince then has been waylaid and severely beaten. Another caseoccurring in the same district was even harder. A poor fellow hasundergone a very severe thrashing with sticks for having signed thebill when, as a matter of fact, he had refused to sign it! Wasn't thathard lines? Both these men know their assailants, but they will nottell. They think it better to bear those ills they have than fly toothers that they know not of. They are quite right, for, as it is, they know the end of the matter. Punish the beaters, and the relationsof the convicted men would take up the cause, and if they could notcome on the principal, if he had removed, or was awkward to get at, they would pass it on to his relations. So that a man's rebellingagainst the village ruffians may involve his dearest friends introuble, may subject them to ill-usage or boycotting. A man mightfight it out if he only had himself to consider; but you see where theshoe pinches. " A decent man in Ennis thus expressed himself anent the Bodyke affair. (My friend is a Catholic Nationalist. ) "The Bodyke men are not all outso badly off as they seem. But their acts are bad, for they can pay, and they will not. No, I do not call the Colonel a bad landlord. Weknow all about it in Ennis; everybody agrees, too. The farmers meet inthis town and elsewhere. Two or three of the best talkers lead themeeting, and everything is done _their_ way. The more decent, sensiblemen are not always the best talkers. Look at Gladstone, have yeanybody to come up to him? An' look at his character--one way to-dayan' another way to-morrow, an' the divil himself wouldn't say what theday afther that. But often the most decent, sensible men among thesefarmers can't express themselves, an they get put down. An' all arebound by the resolutions passed. None must pay rent till they getleave from all. What would happen a man who would pay rent on theBodyke estate? He might order his coffin an' the crape for hisberryin, an' dig his own grave to save his widow the expense. Perhapsye have Gladstonian life-assurance offices in England? What praymiumwould they want for the life of a Bodyke man that paid his rint to theColonel?" The "praymium" would doubtless be "steep. " Boycotting is hard to bear, as testified by Mr. Dawson, a certain Clerk of Petty Sessions. Hesaid:--"The Darcy family took a small farm from which a man had beenevicted after having paid no rent for seven years. The land lay wastefor five years, absolutely derelict, before the Darcys took it inhand. They were boycotted. Their own relations dare not speak to themlest they, too, should be included in the curse. A member of the Darcyfamily died. "Then came severe inconveniences. Friends had secretly conveyedprovisions to the Darcys, and, at considerable risk to themselves, hadafforded some slight countenance and assistance. But a dead body, thatwas a terrible affair. No coffin could be had in the whole district, and someone went thirty miles and got one at the county town by meansof artful stratagem. Then came the funeral. It was to take place attwelve one day, but we found there would be a demonstration, andnobody knew what might happen. The corpse, that of a woman, might havebeen dragged from the coffin and thrown naked on the street. In thedead of night a young fellow went round the friends, and we buried thepoor lady at four in the morning. " The laziness of the Irish people was here exploited with advantage. Agreat French chief of police, who had made elaborate dispositions tomeet a popular uprising, once said, "Send the police home and themilitary to their barracks. There will be no Revolution this eveningon account of the rain. " A very slight shower keeps an Irishman fromwork, and you need not rise very early to get over him. A policeofficer at Gort said to me, "The people are quiet hereabouts, but Icouldn't make you understand their ignorance. They do just what thepriest tells them in every mortal thing. They believe that unless theyobey they will go to Hell and endure endless torture for ever. Theybelieve that unless they vote as they are told they will be damned toall eternity. But oh! if you could see their laziness. They lie abedhalf the day, and spend most of the rest in minding other people'sbusiness. Before you had been in the town half-an-hour every soul inthe place was discussing you. They thought you had a very suspiciousappearance, like an agent or a detective or something. Laziness andignorance, laziness and ignorance, that's what's the matter withIreland. " The farmers of this truly rural district distinctly state that they donot want Home Rule. They only want the land, and nearly all arefurnished with Tim Healy's statement that "The farmer who bought hisown land to-day would, when a Home Rule Parliament was won, be verysorry that he was in such a hurry. " Just as the men of Bodyke aregetting the rifles for which Mr. Davitt wished in order to chastisethe Royal Irish Constabulary, by way of showing these "ruffians, thearmed mercenaries of England, that the people of Ireland had not lostthe spirit of their ancestors. " Well may a timid Protestant of Gortsay, "These men are deceiving England. They only want to get power, and then they will come out in their true colours. All is quiet herenow, but the strength of the undercurrent is something tremendous. TheEnglish Home Rulers may pooh-pooh our fears, but they know nothingabout it. And, besides, _they_ are quite safe. That makes all thedifference. The change will not drive them from all they hold dear. Ido not agree with the nonsense about cutting our throats in our beds. That speech is an English invention to cast ridicule on us. But weshall have to clear out of this. Life will be unendurable with anIrish Parliament returned by priests. For it _will_ be returned bypriests. Surely the Gladstonian English admit that? To speak ofloyalty to England in connection with an Irish Parliament is tooabsurd. Did not the Clan-na-Gael circular say that while its objectslay far beyond anything that might openly be named, the NationalParliament must be first attained by whatever means? Then it went onto say that Ireland would be able to command the working plant of anarmed revolution. Do you not know that the Irish Army of Independenceis already being organised? What do you suppose the men who join itthink it means? Did not Arthur O'Connor say that when England wasinvolved in war, that would be the time? Did he not say that 100, 000men were already prepared, and that at three days' notice Irelandcould possess double that number, all willing to fight England forlove, and without any pay? If the English Home Rulers lived in Galwaythey would remember these things as I do. _You think the Bill cannever become law. If you could assure me of that, I would be a happyman this night. _ I would go to my pillow more contented than I havebeen for years. _I and my family would go on our knees and thank Godfrom our hearts. _" Mr. Wakely, of Mount Shannon Daly, said:--"I live in one of thewildest parts of Galway, but all went on well with us until this HomeRule Bill upset the country. Now I am completely unsettled. Whether toplant the land or let it lie waste, I cannot tell. I might not be ableto reap the harvest. Whether to buy stock to raise and fatten, orwhether to keep what cash we have with a view to a sudden pack-up andexit, we do not know. And I think we are not the only timid folks, forthe other day I took a horse twenty-four miles to a fair where I madesure of selling him easily. I had to take him back the twenty-fourmiles, having wasted my trouble and best part of two days. Thefranchise is too low, that is what ruined the country. " Another desponding Galwegian found fault with the Liberal party of1884. He said, "They were actuated by so much philanthropy. Theirmotto was "Trust the people. " We know what was their object wellenough, They let in the flood of Irish democracy. The Radicals gotforty, but the Nationalists gained sixty, and then part of theRadicals--the steady, sensible party among them--ran out a breakwaterto prevent both countries being swamped. A break-water is a goodthing, but there was no necessity for the flood. They cannotaltogether repair the damage they have done. Look at the Irish membersof twenty years ago, and look at them now. Formerly they weregentlemen. What are they to-day? A pack of blackguards. Their ownsupporters shrink from entrusting them with the smallest shred ofpower. Mr. Gladstone must be as mad as a March hare. The idea of aDublin Parliament engineered by men whom their own supporters lookupon as rowdies would be amusing but for the seriousness of theconsequences. Have you been in Ennis? Did you see the great memorialto the Manchester murderers--'Martyrs' they call them? Their liveswere taken away for love of their country, and their last breath wasGod save Ireland! That's the inscription, and what does it mean?Loyalty to England? Would such a thing be permitted on the Continent?Why, any sensible Government would stamp out such an innuendo as openrebellion. It teaches the children hatred of England, and they are fedwith lies from their very cradle. Every misfortune--the dirt, therags, the poverty of the country, are all to be attributed to Englishrule. Take away that and the people believe they will live in lazinesscombined with luxury. " The lying of the Home Rulers is indeed unscrupulous. An Irishnewspaper of to-day's date, speaking of the opening of the ChicagoExposition, says that "it is fitting to remember that our countrymenhave in the United States found an asylum and an opportunity whichthey have never found at home, that there they have been alloweduntrammelled to worship God as they thought right, " clearly implyingthat in Ireland or in England they have no such liberty. A car driverof Limerick, one Hynes, a total abstainer, and a person of someintelligence, firmly believed that England prevented Ireland frommining for coal, which disability, with the resulting poverty, woulddisappear with the granting of Home Rule. Everywhere this patentobliqueness and absurd unreason. A fiery Nationalist in white heat ofdebate shook his fist at an Ulsterman, and said, "When we get thebill, you'll not be allowed to have all the manufactories toyourselves, " an extraordinary outburst which requires no comment. Thisburning patriot looked around and said, with the air of a man who isposing his adversary, "Why should they have all the big works in onecorner of the island?" In opposition to the melancholy carman was thedictum of Mr. Gallagher, the great high-priest of Kennedy's tobaccos. He said-- "The poverty of Ireland is due to the fact that she has no coal. Geologists say that tens of thousands of years ago a great ice-driftcarried away all the coal-depositing strata. " "Another injustice to Ireland, " interrupted a sacrilegious Unionist. "And doubtless due to the baleful machinations of the Base and BloodyBalfour, " said another. It is easy to bear other people's troubles. He jests at scars whonever felt a wound. That the Irish nation has untold wrongs to bear isevidenced by a Southern Irish paper, which excitedly narrates theinjuries heaped on the holy head of Hibernia by the scoffing Yankee, the wrongful possessor of the American soil. A meeting ofdistinguished Irish emigrants, who have from time to time favouredthe States with their notice, was recently convened in New York, noton this exceptional occasion to metaphorically devour the succulentSaxon, nor to send his enemies a dollar for bread, and ten dollars forlead, nor yet to urge the Gotham nurses and scullerymaids to furthercontributions in favour of patriot Parliamentarians, but to protestwith all the fervour of the conveners' souls, with all the eloquenceof their powerful intellects, with all the solemnity of a sacred deed, against the irreverent naming of the animals in the Central ParkZoological Gardens after Irish ladies, Irish gentlemen, Irish saints. Misther Daniel O'Shea, of County Kerry, stated that the greathippotamus had actually been named Miss Murphy! A hijeous baste from adissolute counthry inhabited wid black nagurs, to be named after anOirish gyurl! Mr. O'Shea uncorked the vials of his wrath, and pouredout his anger with a bubble, the meeting palpitating with hair-raisinghorror. Some other animal was called Miss Bridget. And Bridget was thename iv an Oirish saint! This must be shtopped. Mr. O'Shea declared hewould rather die than allow it to continue. No further particulars aregiven, but it is understood that the viper had been christened "TimHealy, " the rattlesnake "O'Brien, " the laughing hyæna John Dillon, andso on. The Chairman wanted to know why the Yankees did not call theugly brutes after Lord Salisbury and Colonel Saunderson? Nobody seemedto know, so eight remonstrants were appointed a committee of inquiry. Mr. O'Shea also denounced the American people as unlawfully holding acountry which properly belonged to the Irish, an Irish saint, St. Brengan, having discovered the New World in the _sixteenth_ century! Enough of Ireland's wrongs; there is no end to them. As one of herpoets sings, "The cup of her bitterness long has overflowed, And stillit is not full. " The great bulk of the intelligent people of Ireland regard Home Rulewith dread, and this feeling grows ever deeper and stronger. Thecountry is at present exploited by adventurers, paid by the enemies ofEngland, themselves animated by racial and religious prejudices, willing to serve their paymasters and deserve their pay rather bydamaging England than by benefiting Ireland, for whose interests theycare not one straw. Ignorance manipulated by charlatanism and bigotryis, in these latter days, the determining factor in the destinies ofthe British Empire. Intelligence is dominated by terrorism, by threatsof death, of ill-usage, of boycotting--the latter I am told an outcomeof an old engine of the Roman Catholic Church, improved and brought upto date. Humphreys, of Tipperary, may know if this is true. It wasfrom one of the "Father's" feculent family, in the heart of his ownputrescent parish, that I heard of the local chemist who dare notsupply medicine urgently needed by a boycotted person, who wassuspected of entertaining what the learned Humphreys would spell as"Brittish" sympathies. Gort (Co. Galway), May 6th. No. 19. --INDOLENCE AND IMPROVIDENCE. Mr. James Dunne, of Athenry, is an acute observer and a shrewdpolitical controversialist. He said: "The people about here, the poorfolks such as the small farmers and labourers, have really no opinionat all. They know nothing of Home Rule, one way or the other. If theysay anything, it is to the effect that they will obtain some advantagein connection with the land. Beyond that they care nothing for thematter. Not one has any sentiment to be gratified. They only want tolive, if possible, a bit more easily. If they can get the land fornothing or even more cheaply, then Home Rule is good. They can see nofurther than their noses, and they cannot be expected to follow a longchain of argument. They believe just what they are told. Yes, they goto the priest for advice under all circumstances. They ask him to namethe man for whom they are to vote, or rather they would ask him if hewaited long enough. They vote as they are told; and as the Catholicpriest believes that the Catholic religion is the most important thingin the world, which from his point of view is quite proper and right, he naturally influences his people in the direction which is mostlikely to propagate the true faith, and give to it the predominancewhich he believes to be its rightful due. "The people round here are harmless, and will continue so, unless theagitators get hold of them. They are ignorant, and easily led, and aninfluential speaker who knew their simplicity could make them doanything, no matter what. No, I couldn't say that they areindustrious. They do not work hard. They just go along, go along, like. They have no enterprise at all, and you couldn't get them out ofthe ways of their fathers. They'd think it a positive sin. "Look at the present fine weather. This is a very early season. Noliving man has seen such a spring-time in Ireland. Two months of finewarm weather, the ground in fine working condition, everything sixweeks before last year. Not a man that started to dig a day earlier. No, the old time will be adhered to just as if it was cold and wet andfreezing. You could not stir them with an electric battery. They moon, moon, moon along, in the old, old, old way, waiting for somebody tocome and do something for them. "If they had the land for nothing they would be no better off. Theywould just do that much less work. They live from hand to mouth. Theyhave no ambition. The same thing that did for their fathers will dofor them, the same dirtiness, the same inconvenience. If their fatherwent three miles round a stone wall to get in at a gate they'll do ittoo. Never would they think of making another gate. They turn roundangrily and say, 'Wasn't it good enough for my father, an' wasn't he abetther man than ayther me or you?' If you lived here, you would atfirst begin to show them things, but when you saw how much betterthey like their own way you'd stop it. You'd very soon get your heartbroke. You couldn't stir them an inch in a thousand years. What willHome Rule do for them? Nobody knows but Gladstone and the Divil. " A bystander said: "Down at Galway there was a man wid a donkey goin'about sellin' fish, which was carried in two panniers. Whin he hadonly enough to fill one pannier, he put a load o' stones into theother pannier to balance the fish an' make the panniers stick on, an'ride aisier. "Well, one day an Englishman that had been watchin' Barney for sometime comes up to him an' he says, says he-- "'Whin ye have only fish for one pannier why do ye fill up the otherwid stones off the beach?' says he. "'Sure, 'tis to balance it, ' says Barney, mighty surprised an' laffinwidin himself at the Englishman's ignorance. 'Sure, ' says Barney, 'yewouldn't have a cock-eyed load on the baste, all swingin' on one side, like a pig wid one ear, would ye?' says he. "But this Englishman was one of thim stiff sort that doesn't know whinhe's bate, an' he went on arguin'. Says he-- "'But couldn't you put the half of the fish in one pannier, and theother half in the other pannier, instead of putting all the fish inone, and filling up the other with stones?' says he. 'Wouldn't thatbalance the load?' says he. 'And wouldn't that be only half the loadfor the poor baste?' says he. An' Barney sthruggled a bit till he gota fair grip iv it, d'ye see, but by the sivin pipers that playedbefore Moses, he couldn't see the way to answer this big word of theEnglishman; so he says, says he, 'Musha, 'twas me father's way, resthis sowl, ' says he. 'An' would I be settin' meself up to be bettherin'his larnin'?' says he. 'Not one o' me would show him sich impidenceand disrespect, ' says he. 'An' I'll carry the rocks till I die, glorybe to God, ' says he. "Now what could ye do with the like iv _him_?" Mr. Armour, who lived five years near Sligo, said:--"The Connaughtfolks have no idea of preparing for to-morrow. They are almostentirely destitute of self-reliance. So long as they can carry on fromone day to another they are quite content. The bit of ground they liveon is not half cultivated. In the summer time you may see two or eventhree crops growing up together. If they had potatoes on last, theygot them up in the most slovenly way, leaving half the crop in theground. They just hoak out with a stick or a bit of board what theyrequire for that day's food, picking the large ones and leaving thesmall ones in the ground. Oats or something else will be seenhalf-choked with weeds and the growth from the potatoes so left. Theslovenliness of these people is most exasperating. Of course they areall Home Rulers in effect, though not in theory. By that I mean thatthey have no politics, except to produce politicians by their votes. They know no more of Home Rule than they know of Heidsieck'schampagne, or Christmas strawberries, or soap and water, or any otherunknown commodity. They are precisely where their ancestors were, except for the crop of potatoes, which enables them to exist ingreater luxury and with less trouble. Their way is to plant thepotatoes, dig them as required, and live on them either with the aidof a cow or with the butter-milk of a neighbour who has a cow. Noprovision for the future is attempted, because the relatives are sureto provide for the worn-out and sickly. That shows theirgoodheartedness, but it does away with self-dependence. There are somethings so deeply ingrained in the Irish character that nothing andnobody can touch them. The very priests themselves cannot move them. Although these people believe that the priests could set them on firefrom head to heel, or strike them paralytic, or refuse them entranceinto heaven, yet the force of habit is so great, and the dread ofpublic opinion is so powerful, that the people, so long as they remainin Ireland, will never depart a hair's-breadth from the old ways. " A woman who washed and tidied her children would be a mark for everybitter tongue in the parish. A striking case came under my ownobservation. A woman of the place was speaking most bitterly ofanother, and she finished up with, -- "She's the lady all out, niver fear. Shure, she washes and dhressesthe childer ivery mornin', and turns out the girls wid hats on theirheads an' shoes on their feet. Divil a less would sarve her turn! Shehas a brick flure to her house, an' she washes it--divil a lie I tellye--she washes it--wid wather--an' wid soap an' wather, iverySattherday in the week! The saints betune us an' harm, but all shewants now is to turn Protestant altogether!" Four miles away is the village of Carnaun, and there I met PhilipFahy, with his son Michael, and another young fellow, all threereturning from field work, wearily toiling along the rocky road whichruns through the estate of Major Lobdell. The party stopped and satdown to smoke with me. The senior took the lead, not with a brogue butwith an accent, translating from the Irish vernacular as he went on. "Long ye may live! We're glad we met ye, thanks be to God. Yerhonner's glory is the foinest, splindidist man I seen this twintyyear. May God protect ye! 'Tis weary work we does. That foine, big boyye see foreninst ye, has eighteenpence a day, nine shillin' a week. 'Tis not enough to support him properly. I have a son in England, thecliverist lad ye seen this many a day. Sich a scholar, 'twould be nodiscredit to have the Queen for his aunt, no it wouldn't. No, he'sonly just gone, an' I didn't hear from him yet. I didn't tell ye wherehe'd be, for I wouldn't know meself. But me other boys is goin', forthey tell me things will be afther getting worse. God help us, an'stand betune us an harm! Did ye hear of the Home Rule Bill? What doesit mane at all, at all? Not one of us knows, more than that lump ofstone ye sit on. Will it give us the land for nothin'? for that's allwe hear. We'd be obliged av ye could axplain it a thrifle, for sorraa one but's bad off, an' Father O'Baithershin says, Howld yer whist, says he, till ye see what'll happen, says he. Will we get the bit o'ground without rint, yer honner's glory?" Philip was dressed for agricultural work in the following style, whichis clearly considered the correct thing in Galway. One tall "top-hat, "with a long fur like that of a mangy rabbit, waving to the jocundzephyrs of Carnaun; one cut-away coat of very thick homespun cloth, having five brass buttons on each breast; breeches and leggings andstout boots completed the outfit, which fitted like a sentry-box, andbore a curiously caricatured resemblance to the Court suit of aCabinet Minister in full war-paint. The spades with which thelabourers till the ground are strange to the English eye, and seemcalculated to get through the smallest amount of work with thegreatest amount of labour. That they were spades at all was more thanI could make out. "What are those implements?" I asked, to which theanswer came, "Have ye no shpades in England thin!" The business end is about two feet long and not more than three inchesbroad, with a sort of shoulder for the foot. The handles are about sixfeet long and end like a mop-stick, without any crossbar. A slightalteration would turn these tools into pikes, a much more likelyoperation than the beating of swords into plough-shares and spearsinto pruning-hooks. Meanwhile the length of the handle keeps theworker from too dangerous proximity to his work. There is a broaderpattern of blade, but the handle is always of the same sanitarylength. The children of the soil turn it over at a wholesome distance. They keep six feet of pole between the earth and their nobility. Smallblame to them for that same! Shure the wuruld will be afther thim. Shure there's no sinse at all, at all, in workin' life out to kapelife in. "Ah, no, " said Misther Fahy. "That tobacky has no strinth in it. Weget no satisfaction out iv it. We shmoked a pipe iv it to make frinds, but we'd not shmoke another. 'Tis like chopped hay or tay-leaves, itis. Will we walk back wid yer honner's glory? 'Tis only four miles, itis. No, we bur-rn no powdher here. But on the other side, aboveAthenry, 'tis there ye'll see the foin shootin'. Thims the boys forpowdher an' shot! 'Tis more than nine they shot, aye, and more thantin it was. An' sarve thim right, if they must turn the people out, an' have their own way. May the Lord protect ye! May angels make yerbed this night! Long may ye live, an' yer sowl to glory!" I had written so far, when glancing through the window, I saw afamiliar form, a rosy, healthy, florid gentleman parading on the lawnwhich fronts the Railway Hotel, puffing a cigarette, briskly turningand returning with something of the motion of a captive lion. I knewthat pinky cheek, I knew that bright blue eye; yet here, in the wildsof Galway who could it be? He plays with two sportive spaniels, andcries "Down, Sir, down. " Thy voice bewrayeth thee, member for NorthGalway! The Parnellitic Colonel Nolan, thou, _in propriâ personâ_. What makes he here? When the great Bill impends, why flee the festivescene? I'll speak a little with this learned Theban. I board him, asthe French say. For a moment he regards me with suspicion--with a kindof vade-in-retro-Satanas air--but presently he goes ahead. A fair atTuam, which he never misses. Has paired with somebody, Pierpoint hethinks is the name. His vote will therefore not be lost to his side. "Nothing will now be done before Whitsuntide. Both parties will be ontheir best behaviour. The Conservatives and obstruction, the Liberalsand closure. Strategy to obtain some show of advantage at the recessis now the little game. Knows not what will happen _re_ Home Rule. TheEnglish Liberals not now so confident as they were. The Government maybe ruined by liquor. 'Tis the fate of Liberal Governments to be ruinedby drink. The Government of 1874 and the next Liberal Cabinet went tothe dogs on liquor. And if the English people are called upon to givea verdict on a local option bill, the result is rather uncertain. Chances perhaps against Mr. Gladstone. The Home Rule question is nowquite worked up. The English people are now satisfied to have HomeRule, but some intervening question might delay its final settlement. No, the agitation of the past four or five months had not changed theposition one bit. No amount of agitation would now make any differenceat all. " From the probable wrecking of the Gladstonian Cabinet on "liquor" tothe question of Customs, or, as Colonel Nolan preferred to call it, ofExcise, was but an easy step. By a simple _adagio_ movement Imodulated into the Customs question, mentioning the opinion given tome by Mr. John Jameson himself. The Colonel did not deny, nor admit, that the Irish people were excellent smugglers, but thought the fearsof the Unionists exaggerated. He was well aware that smuggling mightbe carried on--say, on the coast of Connemara and elsewhere, wherewere roads and bays and natural harbours galore, with a wild andlonely shore far from the centres of Government. Probably at firstsome money might be lost that way; some little chinks would doubtlessbe found; there would be some little leakage. But suppose an initialloss of £100, 000 or £200, 000, it was not likely that such a state ofthings would be allowed to continue. As to the argument that the ruralpolice would not then assist the 1, 300 coastguards, who with thepolice have been sufficient, there was little or no solidity in thisassumption. The Irish Parliament would order the police to assist, andif they did not execute their orders, or if they allowed themselves tobe bribed, and the Irish Parliament did not prosecute them foraccepting bribes, then the English Government would step in and putmatters right. This is just a typical Home Rule argument, theconfidence trick all over. The Colonel thought that after a certainamount of shaking down, everything would work sweetly enough. He saidnothing about the Union of Hearts, nor have I yet heard the phrasefrom an Irishman. A keen observer resident at the Athenry Hotel says:--"Of those whocome here the proportion against Home Rule is not less than twenty toone. Now mark my figures, because they are based on careful notesextending over the last six months. When you have all the money in thecountry, and all the best brains in the country, against the bill, what good could the bill do if it became law? And while I can see, andall these people can see, no end of risk, disturbance, upset, loss, ruin, and everything that is bad, we cannot see anything at all tocompensate for the risk. Nobody can put his finger on anything andsay, 'There, that's the advantage we'll get from the bill. ' 'Tis allfancy, pure fancy. Ireland a nation, and a Roman Catholic nation, isthe cry. We may get that, but we'll be bankrupt next day. 'Tis likeputting a poor man in a grand house without food, furniture, or money, and without credit to raise anything on the building. There now, yemight say, ye have a splendid place that's all your own. But wouldn'tthe poor man have to leave it, or die of starvation? Of course I wishto respect my clergy, but I think they should not interfere withpolitics. " Colonel Nolan said to me: "The priests wield an immense, anincalculable power. All are on the same path, all hammer away at theone point. It is the persistency, the organisation, that tells. Insome cases they have been known to preach for a year and a half at astretch on political subjects. What is going to stand against that?" With these golden words I close my letter. The priest holds thesceptre of the British Empire. Circumstances have placed in his handsan astonishing opportunity. Nearly every priest in Ireland is usinghis supernatural credit with one solitary aim. We know theirdisloyalty, we know they are no friends of England--we know theirinfluence, their organisation, their perseverance, theirunscrupulousness, their absolute supremacy in Ireland--and it is hightime that England asked herself, in the words of Colonel Nolan-- "What is going to stand against that?" Athenry (Co. Galway), May 6th. No. 20. --RELIGION AT THE BOTTOM OF THE IRISH QUESTION. Tuam has two cathedrals but no barber. You may be shriven but youcannot be shaved. You may be whitewashed but you cannot be lathered. "One shaves another; we're neighbourly here, " said a railway porter. They cut each other's hair by the light of nature, in the open street, with a chorus of bystanders. The Tuamites live in a country ofantiquities, but they have no photographer. Nor could I find aphotograph for sale. The people are sweetly unsophisticated. Abare-footed old lady sat on the step of the Victoria Hotel, sucking ablack dhudeen, sending out smoke like a factory chimney, the pictureof innocent enjoyment. The streets were full of pigs from the ruralparts, and great was the bargaining and chaffering in Irish, alanguage which seemed to be composed of rolling r's and boominggutturals. A sustained conversation sounds like the jolting of acountry cart over a rocky road, a sudden exclamation like the whirr ofa covey of partridges, an oath like the downfall of a truck-load ofbricks. I arrived in time for the great pig fair, and Tuam was verybusy. It is a poor town, of which the staple trade is religion. Thecountry around is green and beautiful, with brilliant patches of gorsein full bloom, every bush a solid mass of brightest yellow, dazzlingyou in the sunshine. Many of the streets are wretchedly built, and theGalway Road shows how easily the Catholic poor are satisfied. Not onlyare the cabins in this district aboriginal in build, but they are alsoindescribably filthy, and the condition of the inmates, like that ofthe people inhabiting the poorer parts of Limerick, is no whit higherthan that obtaining in the wigwams of the native Americans. The hoodedwomen, black-haired and bare-footed, bronzed and tanned by constantexposure, are wonderfully like the squaws brought from the Far West byBuffalo Bill. The men look more civilised, and the pig-jobbers, withtheir tall hats, dress coats, and knotty shillelaghs, were the pink ofpropriety. Now and then a burst of wild excitement would attract thestranger, who would hurry up to see the coming homicide, but there wasno manslaughter that I could see. A scene of frantic gesticulationnear the Town Hall promised well, but contrary to expectation, therewas no murder done. Two wild-eyed men, apparently breathing slaughter, suddenly desisted, reining in their fury and walking off amicablytogether. An Irish-speaking policeman explained that one having soldthe other a pig the buyer was asking for twopence off, and that theynow departed to drink the amount between them. People who had donetheir business went away in queer carts made to carry turf--littlethings with sides like garden palings four or five feet high. Three orfour men would squat on one, closely packed, looking through the barslike fowls in a hen-coop. The donkeys who drew these chariots had alltheir work cut out, and most of their backs cut up. The drivers laidon with stout ash-plants, sparing no exertion to create the donkey'senthusiasm. Prices ruled low. "'Tis not afther sellin' thim I am, "said a peasant who had got rid of his pigs, "'tis bestowin' thim Iwas, the craythurs. The counthry is ruinated intirely, an' so it is. By the holy poker of Methesulum, the prices we got this day forlowness bangs Banagher, an' Banagher bangs the divil. " The Tuamites spare a little time for politics and boycotting. Thepublic spirit and contempt for British law are all that could bedesired by Irish patriotism. Mr. Strachan has recently bought someland. The previous owner, Mr. Dominick Leonard, brother of Dr. Leonardof Athenry, and of Judge Leonard of London, had raised money on theproperty, and failed to pay interest or principal. An Englishinsurance company determined to realize, and the affair went into theLand Court, Mr. Strachan buying part of the estate for £2, 765. It waseasy enough to buy, and even to pay, but to get possession was quiteanother thing. Precise information is difficult to get, for while somedecline to say a word, others are mutually contradictory, and a StateCommission would hardly sift truth from the confusing mass of details, denials, assertions, and counter-assertions. This much is clearenough. A tenant named Ruane was required to leave a house, withground, which he had held on the estate bought by Mr. Strachan. He hadpaid no rent for a long time. Of course he refused to leave, and, adecree having been obtained, he was duly evicted. But, as Lady deBurgho said, evictions do no good. When the officers of the law wenthome to tea, Mr. Ruane went home also, breaking the locks, forcing thedoors, reinstating himself and his furniture, planting his Lares andPenates in their old situations, hanging up his caubeen on theancestral nail, and crossing his patriotic shin-bones on the familiarhearth. Pulled up for trespass, he declared that if sent to prisonfifty times he would still return to the darling spot, and defied theBritish army and navy--horse, foot, and artillery--ironclads, marines, and 100-ton guns, to keep him out. For three acts of trespass he gotthree weeks imprisonment. The moment he was released Mr. Ruane walkedback home, and took possession once again. There he is now, laughingat the Empire on which the sun never sets. When a certain bishop read"Paradise Lost" to a sporting lord, the impatient auditor's attentionwas arrested by some bold speech of Satan, whereupon he exclaimed"Dang me, if I don't back that chap. I like his pluck, and I hopehe'll win. " Something like this might be said of Ruane. And Ruane will stick to his land. A public meeting held on Sunday weekdetermined to support him, and to show forth its mind by planting theground for him. Mr. Strachan seems to have seen the futility oflooking to the law, on the security of which he invested his money. Too late he finds that his savings are not safe, and he endeavours tomake friends with the mammon of unrighteousness. He has offered Ruanefive acres of land and a house, and Ruane would have accepted withthanks had he been allowed. But he went to a meeting in some outlyingvillage, and received his orders from the Land League. For, be itobserved, that the people of these parts speak of the Land League asexisting in full force. Ruane declined the handsome offer of thekind-hearted Strachan. Ruane will hold the house and land from whichhe has been evicted, _because_ he had been evicted, and that thepeople may see that they have the mastery. Ruane would prefer theproffered land, but private interests must give way to the publicweal. England must be smashed, treated with contumely; her laws, herofficers, her edicts treated with contempt, laughed at by every nakedgutter-snipe, rendered null and void. That this can be done withperfect impunity is the teaching of priests, Fenians, Nationalists, Federationists--call them what you will--all alike flagrantly disloyalto the English Crown. Not worth while to differentiate them. As thesailor said of crocodiles and alligators, "There's no difference atall. They're all tarnation varmint together. " Mr. Strachan is boycotted, and goes about with a guard of threepolicemen. What will happen from one day to another nobody can tell. Since I last mentioned Mr. Blood, of Ennis, that most estimablegentleman has been again fired on, this time at a range of 400 yards, and when guarded by the four policemen who accompany him everywhere. Three shots were fired, and the police found an empty rifle cartridgeat the firing point. A Protestant in Tuam said to me:-- "Home Rule would mean that every Protestant would have to fly thecountry. Why should there not be a return to the persecutions of yearsago? When first I came to the place the Protestants were hooted asthey went to church, and I can remember seeing this very Strachangoing to worship on Sunday morning, his black go-to-meeting coat socovered with the spittle of the mob that you would not know him. Hiswife would come down with a Bible, and the children would run alongshouting 'Here comes mother Strachan, with the devil in her fist. 'Why, the young men got cows' horns and fixed them up with strings, sothat they could tie them on their foreheads. Then with these horns onthey would walk before and behind the Protestants as they went tochurch or left it, to show that the devil was accompanying them. Theyalways figure the devil as being horned. One of the little barefootedboys who ran after these Protestants is now a holy priest in Tuam. Andwhat the people were then, so they will be now, once they get theupper hand. The educated Catholics are excellent people, none betteranywhere, none more tolerant. Nothing to fear from them. But how manyare there? Look at the masses of ignorant people around us. Thedensity of their ignorance is something that the people of Englandcannot understand. They have no examples of it. The most stupid anduninformed English you can find have some ray of enlightenment. Thesepeople are steeped in ignorance and superstition. Their religion isnothing but fetichism. Their politics? well, they are blind tools ofthe priests: what else can be said? And the priests have but oneobject. In all times, in all countries, the Roman Catholic Church hasaimed at absolute dominion. The religious question is at the bottom ofit all. " No matter where an educated Irishman begins, that is where he alwaysends. Catholics and Protestants alike come round to the same point atlast, though with evident reluctance. The Protestant Unionistsespecially avoid all mention of religion as long as possible. Theyknow the credal argument excites suspicion. They attack Home Rule fromevery other point of view, and sometimes you think you haveencountered a person of different opinion. Wait till he knows you alittle better, has more confidence in your fairness, stands in lessfear of a possible snub. Sooner or later, sure as the night followsthe day, he is bound to say-- "The religious question is at the bottom of it all. " The people of Ireland do not want an Irish Parliament, and the failureof the bill would not trouble them in the least. They do not care abrass farthing for the bill one way or the other. The great heart ofthe people is untouched. The masses know nothing of it, and will notfeel its loss. They are in the hands of priests and agitators, thesepoor unlettered peasants, and their blind voting, their inarticulatevoice, translated into menace and mock patriotism. Everybody admitsthat the people would be happy and content if only left alone. Half-a-dozen ruffians with rifles can boss a whole country side, andthe people must do as they are told. They do not believe in thesecrecy of the ballot. They believe that the priests by theirsupernatural powers are able to know how everybody voted, and I amassured on highly respectable authority that the secrecy of the ballotin Ireland is, in some parts, a questionable point. At the same time, there is everywhere a strong opinion that another election will givevery different results in Ireland. And everywhere there is a growingfeeling that the Bill will not become law. This explains the slightrise in the value of Irish securities. Just outside Tuam I came upon a neatly built, deep-thatched villa, with a flower garden in front, a carefully cultivated kitchen gardenrunning along the road, trim hedges, smart white palings, an orchardof fine young trees, a general air of neatness, industry, prosperity, which, under the circumstances, was positively staggering. I hadpassed along a mile of cabins in every stage of ruin, from thesolitary chimney still standing to the more recent ruin with twogables, from the inhabited pig-sty to the hut whereon grew crops oflong grass. I had noted the old lady clad in sackcloth and ashes, who, having invested the combined riches of the neighbourhood in sixoranges and a bottle of pop, was sitting on the ground, alternatelycontemplating the three-legged stool which held the locked-up capitaland her own sooty toes, immersed in melancholy reflections anent thepresent depression in commercial circles. The Paradisaic cottage wasstartling after this. I stopped a bare-legged boy, and found that theplace belonged to a Black Protestant, and, what was worse, aPresbyterian, and, what was superlatively bad, a Scots Presbyterian. Presently I met a tweed-clad form, red-faced and huge of shoulder, full of strange accents and bearded like the pard. Berwickshire gavehim birth, but he has "done time" in Ireland. "I'm transported this forty-three years. I thought I'd end my dayshere, but if this bill passes we'll go back to Scotland. We'll haveCatholic governors, and they'll do what they like with us. Ye'll havea tangled web to weave, over the Channel there. Ye'll have the wholeisland in rebellion in five-and-twenty minutes after ye give thempower. Anybody that thinks otherwise is either very ignorant of thestate of things or else he's a born fule. No, I wouldn't say the folksare all out that lazy, not in this part of Galway. They will work weelenough for a Scots steward, or for an Englishman. But no Irish stewardcan manage them. Anybody will tell you that. No-one in any part of thecountry will say any different. Now, that's a queer thing. An Irishsteward has no control over them. They don't care for him. And he runsmore risk of shooting than an English or Scots steward. "There was an Irish bailiff where I was steward, and he saw how Imanaged the men, and thought he'd do it the same way. So once when heand a lot of diggers went in for the praties and buttermilk, thepraties were not ready, and he gives the fellow who was responsible abit of a kick behind with the side of his foot, like. "The very next night he got six slugs in his head and face and one ofhis front teeth knocked out. That taught him to leave kicking toforeigners. Once two men were speaking of me. I overheard one say, 'Ah, now, Micky, an' isn't it a pity that Palmer's a Black Protestant, an' that his sowl will blaze in hell for ever, like a tur-rf soddockye'd pick up in the bog?'" "Settle the land question and you settle Home Rule. The bad times madeParnell's success. He was backed by the low prices of produce, and thegeneral depression of agricultural interests. The rent has beenreduced, but not enough to compensate the drop in the prices ofproduce. Why, cattle have been fetching one-half what they fetched ashort time ago. Potatoes are twopence-halfpenny a stone! Did you everhear of such a thing? Yes, it enables the people to live very cheaply, but how about the growers? If every man grew his own potatoes andlived on them, well and good, but he must have no rent to pay. Thatprice would not pay for labour and manure. Oats are worth sixpence toninepence a stone, --a ridiculous price; and we have not yet touchedthe bottom. "The land question should be settled. No, it is not satisfactory. People have to wait seven years for a settlement, and meanwhile theycould be kicked out of their holdings at one day's notice. The peoplewho bought under Ashbourne's Act are happy, prosperous, and contented. The people who are beside them are the contrary. Home Rulers, bosh!Farmers know as much about Home Rule as a pig knows about the SabbathDay. The land, the land, the land! Let the Tories take this up anddish the Liberals. Easiest thing alive. How? Compulsory sale, compulsory purchase. Leave nothing to either party. Then you'll hearno more of Home Rule. Let the Unionists hold their ground a bit, tillit dies out, or until the rival factious destroy each other. Loyalty?Why those Nationalist members have themselves told you over and overagain that they are rebels. Don't you believe them? Some few may beinspired with the idea that the thing is impracticable, but they willall preach separation when the right time comes. 'Pay no taxes toEngland, ' they'll cry. The people can follow that. Tell them that anycourse of action means non-payment of anything, and they're on it likea shot. Why, the Paying of Tribute to England is already discussed inevery whiskey shop in Galway, and every man is prepared to line theditches with guns and pikes rather than pay one copper. When you can'tgive Strachan the farm for which he paid last February, when you can'tkeep a small farmer who won't pay rent from occupying his farm andgetting his crops as usual, for he _will_ do so, how are you going toraise the famous Tribute Money?" Near the Town Hall was a great crowd of people listening to a coupleof minstrels who chanted alternate lines of a modernised version ofthe _Shan van vocht_. "Let me make the songs of a people, and I carenot who makes its laws. " Mr. Gladstone is appreciated now. The heartof the Connaughtman throbs responsive to his pet appellation. This ispart of the song-- Oi'm goin' across the say, says the Grand Old Man, Oi'll be back some other day, says the Grand Old Man; When Oireland gets fair play We'll make Balfour rue the day, -- Remimber what I say, says the Grand Old Man. Whin will ye come back? says the Grand Old Man, Whin will ye come back? says the Grand Old Man, Whin Balfour gets the sack Wid Salisbury on his back, Or unto hell does pack, says the Grand Old Man. Will ye deny the Lague? says the Grand Old Man, No, we'll continue to the Lague, says the Grand Old Man. John Dillon says at every station, 'Twill be his conversation Till Oireland is a nation, says the Grand Old Man. There are three more verses of this immortal strain. The _Shan vanvocht_ was the great song of the '98 rebellion, and possibly theG. O. M. 's happy adaptability to the music may put the finishing touchto his world-wide renown. Other songs referred to the arrest of FatherKeller, of Youghal. "They gathered in their thousands their grief forto revale, An' mourn for their holy praste all in Kilmainham Jail. "These ballads are anonymous, but the talented author of "Dirty littleEngland" stands revealed by internal evidence. The voices whichchanted these melodies were discordant, but the people around listenedwith reverential awe, from time to time making excited comments inIrish. Altogether Tuam is a depressing kind of place, and but for theenterprise of a few Protestants, the place would be a phantasmagoriaof pigs, priests, peasants, poverty, and "peelers. " Perhaps Galwaywould have more civilization, if less piety. You cannot move about anIrish country town after nightfall without barking your shins on aRoman Catholic Cathedral. This in time becomes somewhat monotonous. Tuam (Co. Galway), May 9th. No. 21. --MR. BALFOUR'S FISHERIES. A clean, well-built town, with a big river, the Corrib, runningthrough the middle of it, splashing romantically down from the salmonweir, not far from the Protestant Church of Saint Nicholas, amagnificent cathedral-like structure over six hundred years old. Thereis a big square with trees and handsome buildings, several goodhotels, a tramway, and, _mirabile dictu!_ a veritable barber's shop. The Connaught folks, as a whole, seem to have fully realised the oldsaying that shaving by a barber is a barbarous custom, but there is norule without an exception, and accordingly Mr. McCoy, of Eyre Square, razors and scissors her Majesty's lieges, whether gentle or simple, rebel or loyal, Unionist or Separatist, Catholic or Protestant. Thegood Figaro himself is an out-and-out Separatist. He swallows completeIndependence, and makes no bones about it. He believes in Ireland aNation, insists on perfect autonomy, and, unlike the bulk of hisfellow Nationalists, has the courage of his opinions. His objection toEnglish interference with Irish affairs is openly expressed, and withan emphasis which leaves no doubt of his sincerity. According to Mr. McCoy, the woes of Ireland are each and all directly attributable toEnglish rule. The depopulation of the country, the lack of enterprise, of industry, of the common necessaries of life, of everything to bedesired by the sons of men--all these disagreeables are due to theselfishness, the greed, the brutality of Englishmen, who are not onlydevoid of the higher virtues, but also entirely destitute of commonfairness, common honesty, common humanity. Mr. McCoy holds thatEngland exploits Ireland for her own purposes, is a merciless suckerof Hibernia's life-blood, a sweater, a slave-driver, a more thanEgyptian taskmaster. Remove the hated English garrison, abolishEnglish influence, let Ireland guide her own destinies, and all willat once be well--trade will revive, poverty will disappear, emigrationwill be checked, a teeming population will inhabit the land, and theEmerald Isle will once more become great, glorious, and free, Furstflower o' the airth, Furst gem o' the say. No longer will the gallantmen of Connaught bow their meek heads to American shears, no longerpresent their well-developed jaws to Yankee razors; but, instead ofthis, flocking in their thousands on saints' days and market days totheir respective county towns, and especially to Galway, will form _enqueue_ at the door of Mr. McCoy, to save the country by fosteringnative industries. No longer will it avail the Chinaman of whom hetold me to sail from New York to Ireland, because the latter is theonly country wherein Irishmen do not monopolise all the good things, do not boss the show--have, in fact, no voice at all in itsmanagement. "But, " said my friend, "we'll get no Home Rule, we'll getno Parlimint, we'll get nothin' at all at all till Irishmen rise upin every part o' the wuruld an thrash it out o' ye. What business havethe English here at all domineering over us? Didn't one o' their greatspakers get up in Parlimint an' say we must be kept paupers? Didn't hesay that 'the small loaf was the finest recruiting sergeant in thewuruld?' There ye have the spirit o' the English. We want the counthryto ourselves, an' to manage it our way, not yours. An' that thievin'owld Gladstone's the biggest scut o' thim all. No, I'm not grateful toGladstone, not a bit iv it. Divil a ha'porth we have to thank him for. Sure, he was rakin Parnell out iv his grave, the mane-spirited scut, that cringed and grinned whin Parnell was alive. Sure, 'twas Gladstonebroke up the party wid his morality. 'Ah, ' says he, 'I couldn'tassociate wid such a person, alanna!' An' he wouldn't let it be aParlimint at all--it must be a leg-is-la-ture, by the hokey, it must, no less. Let him go choke wid his leg-is-la-ture, the durty, mane-spirited owld scut. " Mr. McCoy declines to regard Mr. Gladstone as a benefactor of Ireland, but in this he is not alone. His sentiments are shared by everyIrishman I have met, no matter what his politics. The Unionist partyare the more merciful, sparing expletives, calling no ill names. Theyadmire his ability, his wonderful vitality, versatility, ingenuity oftrickery. They sincerely believe that he is only crazy, and think it agreat pity. They speak of the wreck of his rich intellect, and say ineffect _corruptio optimi pessima est_. There is another monkishproverb which may strike them as they watch him in debate, particularly when he seems to be cornered; it runs, _Non habetanguillam, Per caudam qui tenet illam_, which may be extemporaneouslyrendered, He has not surely caught the eel, Who only holds him by thetail. Every Nationalist I have met entertains similar opinions, but fewexpress them so unguardedly. Mr. McCoy must be honoured for hiscandour and superior honesty. If his brethren were all as franklyoutspoken as he England would be saved much trouble, much waste ofprecious time. The secret aspirations of the Irish Nationalistleaders, if openly avowed, would dispose of the Home Rule agitation atonce and for ever. No risk of loss, no possible disadvantage, dauntedMr. McCoy. He accepted the statement of a rabid Separatist, quoted ina previous letter, that the Irish would prefer to go to hell their ownway. That was his feeling exactly. Not that there was any danger. Great was his confidence, implicit, sublime, ineffably Irish. His wasthe faith that removes mountains. Not like a grain of mustard seed, but like the rock of Cashel. _Floreat_ McCoy! Mr. Athy, of Kinvarra, has very little to say. He thinks the billwould make Ireland a hell upon earth for all Protestants living inCatholic communities, and that a settlement of the land question wouldsettle the hash of the agitators. Mr. Kendal, of Tallyho, anEnglishman twenty-five years resident in Ireland, agrees in the latteropinion. I forgot to question him _re_ toleration. He thinks the HomeRule Bill simply insane, absurd, not worth serious discussion bysensible men. "No intelligent man who knows the country would dream ofsuch madness. The simplicity of the English people must be incredible. Pity they cannot come over and examine for themselves. " Mr. Beddoes, traffic manager of the Limerick and Waterford Railway, came to Ireland an enthusiastic Gladstonian. He had worked with mightand main to send Mr. Price to Parliament, and was largely instrumentalin returning him. He is now a staunch Unionist, admits the error ofhis ways, and rejoices that a personal acquaintance with the subjectat once led him into the true fold. I had this confession of faithfrom Mr. Beddoes himself, a keen, successful man of eminentlyConservative appearance, a scholar, a traveller, and a great favouritewith his men. "How long were you in Ireland before you changed your mind?" I asked. "Well, " said Mr. Beddoes, "to tell the truth, I began to have mydoubts during the first week. " A prosperous Presbyterian of Galway said:--"To say that the Irishpeople, the masses, want an Irish Parliament is the height ofabsurdity; and to argue that their aspirations are expressed by theirvotes is a gross perversion of the truth. The ignorance of the peopleexplains everything. They voted as the priests told them to vote, without the smallest conception of what they were voting for, withoutthe smallest idea of what Home Rule really means. They are quiteincapable of understanding a complicated measure of any kind, and theynaturally accept the guidance of their spiritual advisers, whom theyare accustomed to regard as men of immense erudition, besides beinggifted with power to bind and loose, and having the keys of heaven atcommand. You know how they canvass their penitents in theconfessional, and how from the altar they have taught the people tolie, telling them to vote for one man and to shout down the streetsfor another. The Irish priests are wonderfully moral men in otherrespects, and cases of immorality in its ordinary sense are so rare asto be practically unknown. I could forgive their politics, and eventheir confessional influence, if they were not such awful liars. Theirwant of truthfulness reacts on the people, and if you send a man to doa job, he will return and get his money when he has only half done it. 'Oh, yes, ' he'll say, as natural as possible, 'I've done it well, verywell. ' And they are not ashamed when they are proved to be liars. Theythink nothing of it. And the way they cheat each other! A few days agoI met a man who pulled out a bundle of one-pound notes, and said, 'I'mafther selling thirteen cows, an' I'm afther buying thirteen more. Isowld me cows to Barney So-and-So, afther givin' him six noggins ofpoteen, an' I got out of him twenty per cint. More than the price thatwas goin', thanks be to God!' They are so pious--in words. " "What they want is emancipation from the priests and from thesuperstitions of the dark ages. They believe in the fairies still, andattribute all kinds of powers to them. Look at the _Tuam News_ ofyesterday evening. Perhaps the English people would hesitate beforeconferring self-government on the poor folks who read that paper, ifthey could only see the rag for a week or two. " I secured the _Tuam News_ for Friday, May 12, 1893, and found thesheet instructive, suggestive, original. There is a big advertisementin Irish, an ancient Irish poem with translation, and a letter fromMr. Henry Smyth, of Harborne, Birmingham, addressed to the NationalLiterary Society of Loughrea, under whose auspices Miss Gonne theother day delivered the rebel lecture quoted in the Killaloe letter. Our fellow-citizen speaks of "the spirit of revival that is abroadamongst you, of your new society rising phoenix-like from the ashes ofthe old, not uninspired, we may suppose, by the project of your beingin the near future masters in your own house, the arbiters of your owndestiny, for you will be governed by the men of your own choice. " Sideby side with this heart-felt utterance let us print another letterappearing in the same issue of the same hebdomadal illuminator:-- TO THE EDITOR OF THE TUAM NEWS. Sir, --Permit me a little space in the next issue of the _Tuam News_, relative to my father being killed by the fairies which appeared in the _Tuam News_ of the 8th of April last. I beg to say that he was not killed by the fairies, but I say he was killed by some person or persons unknown as yet. Hoping very soon that the perpetrators of this dastardly outrage will be soon brought to light, I am, Mr. Editor, yours obediently, DAVID REDINGTON. Kilcreevanty, May 8th, '93. What would be thought of an English constituency which required such acontradiction? The people who believe in the fairies form the bulk ofthe Irish electorate. Their votes have sent the Nationalist members toParliament; their voice it is which directs the action of Gladstone, Morley, and Tail; their influence ordains the course of legislation;in their hands are the destinies of England and Englishmen. The peoplethemselves are innocent enough. If they hate England it is becausethey have been so taught by priests and agitators for their own ends. The only remedy is enlightenment, but the process must be slow. Theaccursed influences are ever at work, on the platform, in the press, at the altar, and I see no countervailing agency. The people are 'cuteenough, and would be clever, if once their bonds were broken. They arenot fettered by English rule. They are bound down by Ignorance, rankIgnorance, in an Egyptian darkness that may be felt. They are poor inthis world's goods, although seemingly healthier and stronger than theEnglish average. Much of their poverty is their own fault. Much moreis due to the teachings of agitators. The Land League has mined wholecommunities. Poverty and Ignorance made the Irish masses an easy prey. Their ancient prejudices are kept alive, their ancient grievancesindustriously disinterred, their imagination pleased with anillimitable vista of prosperity artfully unrolled before theiruntutored gaze. We have the result before us. The Gladstonian party inEngland are responding to the dictates of a handful of hirelings andsacerdotalists, and not to the aspirations of a people. Credulity isthe offspring of Ignorance, and accordingly we see that the Irishpeople believe in Tim Healy and the priests, the Grand Old Man and thefairies. They must be saved from themselves. The harbour of Galway is very picturesque. A massive ivy-covered archmarks the boundary line of the ancient walls, some of which are stillextant. The raggedness and filthiness of the fisher-wives and childrenmust be seen to be understood. A few sturdy fishermen sat gloomilybeside two great piles of fish, thrown out of the boats in heaps. Large fish, like cod, and yet not cod; bigger than hake, but notunlike the Cornish fish. To ask a question at a country station or inthe street is in Connaught rather embarrassing, as all the peoplewithin earshot immediately crowd around to hear what is going on. Notimpudent, but sweetly unsophisticated are the Galway folks, openlyregarding the stranger with inquiring eye, not unfriendly, but merelycurious. Having no business of their own, they take the deepestinterest in that of other people. And they make a fuss. They are toopolite. They load you with attentions. No trouble is too great. Givethem the smallest chance and they put themselves about until you wishyou had not spoken. However, I wanted to know about the fish, so Istrolled up to two men who were lying at full length on the quay, andsaid-- "What do you call those fish?" Both men sprang hastily to their feet, and said-- "Black pollock, Sorr. " "Where do you catch them?" At this juncture two or three dozen urchins galloped up, most of them, save for a thick skin of dirt, clad in what artists call the nude. They surrounded us, and listened with avidity. "Outside the Aran Islands. " Here several women joined the group, and more were seen hastening tothe scene of excitement from every point of the compass. "How far away is that?" "Thirty miles, Sorr. " "What are they worth?" "A shilling a dozen. " "That is, a penny a pound?" "No, but a shilling for a dozen fish, and there's thirteen to thedozen. " "And how heavy is the average fish?" He picked up one by the jaws, and weighing him on his hand, said-- "That chap would be nigh-hand fourteen pounds. Some's more, some'sless. " It was even so. The agent of the Congested Districts Board, Mr. Michael Walsh, of Dock Street, confirmed this startling statement. Thirteen huge codlike fish for a shilling! More than a hundredweightand a half of fish for twelve pence sterling! And, as Father Mahonyremarks, still the Irish peasant mourns, still groans beneath thecruel English yoke, still turns his back on the teeming treasures ofthe deep. The brutal Balfour supplied twenty-five boats to the poorpeasants of the western seaboard, and these, all working inconjunction under direction, have proved both a boon and a blessing. "Yesterday I sent sixty boxes of mackerel to Messrs. Smith, ofBirmingham, and to-day I think I shall send them a hundred, " said Mr. Walsh. "These Balfour boats have been a wonderful success. You'll hearthe very ignorant still cursing him, but not the better-informed, northe people he has benefited. I think him a great man, a very greatman, indeed. I am no politician. I only look at the effect he producedand the blessing he was to the people. On Wednesday last the Durassteamer brought in 400 boxes of fish, which had been caught in oneday. We thought that pretty good, but Thursday's consignment wassimply astonishing, 1, 100 boxes coming in. We sent them all toEngland. Mackerel have fetched grand prices this year. Early in theseason we sold them to Birmingham at tenpence apiece wholesale, withcarriage and other expenses on the top of that. Better price than thepollock? Well, that fish is not very good just now. Sometimes itfetches six shillings a dozen fish, nearly sixpence each. No, not muchfor twelve or fourteen pounds of good fish. Half-a-crown a dozen ismore usual. There's no demand. Yes, they're cheap to-day. A dozenpounds of fish for a penny would be reckoned 'a cheap loaf' inBirmingham. " A shopkeeper near the harbour complained of the unbusiness-like waysof the Galway townsmen:--"They have no notion of business management. Take the Galway Board of Guardians. They resolved that any contractorfurnishing milk below a certain standard should have his contractbroken if he were caught swindling the authorities three times in sixmonths. What would they think of such a resolution in England? Well, one fellow was caught three times or more. His milk was found tocontain forty-four per cent. Of water. Instead of kicking him out atonce there was a great debate on the subject. It was not denied thatthe facts were as I have stated them. His friends simply said, 'Ah, now, let the Boy go on wid the conthract; shure, isn't he the dacentBoy altogether? An' what for would ye break the conthract whin he putin a dhrop of clane wather, that wouldn't hurt anybody. Shure, 'tisvery wholesome it is intirely. ' As Curran said, 'we are ruined withto-day saying we'll do some thing, and then turning round and sayingto-morrow that we won't do it. ' Another Guardian named Connor stuck upfor the right thing, and another named Davoren gave the contractor'sfriends a good tongue-thrashing. The milkman was sacked by fifteenvotes to nine. The right thing was done, but my point is that a lotof time was wasted in trying to bolster up such a case, and nine menactually voted for the defaulter, whose action was so grosslyfraudulent, and who had been caught at least three times in sixmonths. "The bag factory has just been closed. The Home Rule Bill is at thebottom of this mischief. It was the only factory we had in Galway, andwhat the people here are to do now God only knows. It gave employmentto the working classes of the town, who will now have to go furtherafield. Some are off to America, some to England, some to Scotland. Curious thing I've noticed. A Scotsman lands here with twopence, nextday has fourpence, in five years a house and farm of his own, intwenty-five years an estate, in thirty years is being shot at as alandowner, in forty years has an agent to be deputy cock-shot for him. But Irishmen who go to Scotland nearly always return next yearswearing that the country is poor as the Divil. Now, how is that? "The bag works was just short of money and management. Irishmen arenot financiers. They are always getting into holes, and waiting forsomebody to get them out. They have no self-reliance. You may holdthem up by the scruff of the neck for years and years, and the momentyou drop them they hate you like poison. Many shooting cases wouldshow this if impartially looked into. Pity the English do not comeover here more than they do. The people get along famously withindividual Englishmen, and sometimes they wonder where all themurdering villains are of whom they hear from their spiritual andpolitical advisers. A priest said in my hearing, 'Only the best mencome over here. They are picked out to impose on you. ' And the poorfolks believed him. We want to know each other better. The English arejust as ignorant as the Irish, in a way. They know no more of theIrish than the Irish know of them. The poor folks of Connaught firmlybelieve that they would be well off and able to save money but for theEnglish that ruin the country. And here this Jute Bag Company isbursted up because it had not capital to carry on with. Belfast men orEnglishmen would have made it a big success. It stopped because itcould not raise enough money to buy a ship-load of jute, and wasobliged to buy from hand to mouth from retailers. "Take the wool trade. Everywhere over Ireland you will see Wool, Woolin big letters on placards for the farmers--notices of one sort oranother. We are the centre of a wool district. Not a single woolfactory, although the town is in every way fitted for excelling in thewoollen trade. We have a grand river, and the people understand wool. They card and spin, and make home-made shawls and coat-pieces at theirown homes, just for themselves, and there they stop. They are waitingfor Home Rule, they say. Pass the bill, and factories will jump out ofthe ground like mushrooms. Instead of taking advantage of the means attheir disposal, they are looking forward to a speculative somethingwhich they cannot define. The English are the cause of any troublethey may have, and an Irish Parliament will totally change the aspectof things. Everybody is going to be well off, and with little or nowork. The farmers are going to get the land for nothing, or next tonothing, and all heretics will be sent out of the country, or keptdown and in their proper place. " Thus spake a well-to-do Protestant, born in Galway some sixty yearsago, a half-breed Irish and Scotchman. I have now heard so manyexasperating variations of this same tune, that I should be disposed, had I the power, to take a deep and desperate revenge by granting thegrumblers Home Rule on the spot. It would doubtless serve them right, but England has also herself to consider. Galway Town, May 13th. No. 22. --THE LAND LEAGUE'S REIGN AT LOUGHREA. This is the most depressing town I have seen as yet. Except on marketand fair days, literally nothing is done. The streets are nearlydeserted, the houses are tumbling down, gable-ends without side-wallsor roofs are seen everywhere, nettles are growing in the old chimneycorners, and the splendid ruins of the ancient abbey are the mostcheerful feature of the place. A few melancholy men stand about, thepicture of despondent wretchedness, a few sad-eyed girls wander aboutwith the everlasting hood, hiding their heads and faces, a fewmiserable old women beg from all and sundry, and the usual swarm ofbarefooted children are, of course, to the fore. The shopkeepersdisplay their wares, waiting wearily for market day, and dismallyhoping against hope for better times. Everybody is in the dolefuldumps, everybody says the place is going down, everybody says thatthings grow worse, that the trade of the place grows smaller bydegrees and gradually less, that enterprise is totally extinguished, that there is no employment for the people, and no prospect of any. Those whose heads are just above water are puzzled to know how thoseworse off than themselves contrive to exist at all, and look towardsthe future with gloomiest foreboding. Like the man who quotedChristmas strawberries at twelve dollars a pound, they ask how thepoor are going to live. The young men of the place seem to have quitelost heart, and no longer muster spirit enough to murder anybody. Loughrea is disloyal as the sea is salt. The man in the street is fullof grievances. His poverty and ignorance make him the mark of lyingagitators, who arouse in his simple soul implacable resentment forimaginary wrongs. A decent civil working-man named Hanan thusexpressed himself:-- "The town was a fine business place until a few years ago, whin theLand League ruined it. Ah, thim was terrible times. We had murthers inthe town an' all round the town. Perhaps the people that got shotdesarved it, they say here that they did; but, all the same, theplace was ruined by the goin's on. It's no joke to kill nine or tenpeople in and about a quiet little place like this. An' ever sincethin the place is goin' down, down, down, an' no one knows what willbe the ind iv it. 'Tis all the fault of the English Governmint. Thecounthry is full of gowld mines, an' silver mines, an' copper mines, an' we're not allowed to work thim. Divil a lie I spake. TheGovernment wouldn't allow us to bore for coal. Sure, we're towld bythim that knows all about it, men that's grate scholars an' can spakeout iligant. Why wouldn't we be allowed to sink a coal mine in our owncounthry? Why wouldn't we be allowed to get the gowld that's allthrough the mountains? 'Tis the English that wants iverything forthimsilves, an' makes us all starvin' paupers intirely. " This serves to indicate the kind of falsehoods palmed off upon thesepoor people in order to make them agitators or criminals. Hanan wenton-- "Look at the Galway Bag Factory. I'm towld that's shutting up now. What'll the people do at all, at all, that was employed in it? An' theEnglish Parlimint ordhers it to be closed because it turns out bagschaper than they can make thim in England, an' betther, and theEnglish maker couldn't compate. Ye know betther? I wouldn'tconthradict yer honour's glory, ye mane well; but I have it from themthat knows. Look at the Galway marble quarries. There's two sorts o'marble in one quarry, an' tis grand stone it is, an' the quarrieswould give no ind iv imploymint to the poor men that's willin' towork. God help thim, but they're not allowed to cut a lump of stone intheir own counthry. What stops them? Sure 'tis the English Government, an' what would it be else? A gintleman isn't allowed to cut a stone onhis own land. All must come from England. Ye make us buy it off ye, an' us wid millions of pounds' worth of stone. Ah, now, don't tell me'tis all rubbish. Sure, I have it sthraight from mimbers of Parlimint. Didn't the English Governmint send out soldiers an' policemen, widguns an' swords, an' stop the men that wint to cut the stone in themarble quarries I was afther mintionin' to yer honour? Yes, 'twas theLand League that ruined this place, but 'twas the Governmint that madethe Land League by dhriving the people into it. No, I wouldn't trustGladstone or any other Englishman. They'll take care of thimselves, the English. We'll get no more than they can help. What we got out o'Gladstone we bate out o' him. We get nothing but what we conquered. Small thanks we owe, an' small thanks we'll give. " A small farmer said, "The rints isn't low enough. The judicial rintsis twice too much, an' the price of stock what it is. We must have asliding scale, an' pay rint according to the price of produce. We musthave the land for half what we pay now. I wouldn't say anythin' agin'the English. I have two brothers there an' they come over heresometimes, an' from what they tell me I believe the English maneswell. An' the English law isn't bad at all. 'Tis the administhrationof the law that's bad. We have the law, but 'tis no use to us becausethe landlords administhers it. Divil a bit o' compinsation can we get. An' if we want a pump, or a fence, or a bit o' repairs, we may waitfor seven years, till our hearts break wid worryin' afther it. Thinwe've our business to mind, an' we've not the time nor the money to goto law, even whin the law is with us an we have a clear case. Thelandlord has his agint, that has nothin' else to do but to circumvintus, so that the land laws don't do us the good that ye think over inEngland. Ye have grand laws, says you, an' 'tis thrue for you; but whoworks the laws? says I. That's where the trouble comes in. Who worksthe laws? says I. "Thin ye say, ye can buy your farms all out, says you. But thelandlords won't sell, says I. Look at the Monivea disthrict. French isa good landlord enough, but he won't sell. The tinants want to buy, but if ye go to Monivea Castle ye'll have your labour for your pains. The agint is the landlord's brother, an' a dacent, good man he is. Ihave a relative over there, an' sorra a word agin aither o' thim willhe spake. But when he wint to buy his farm, not an inch would he get. " This statement was so diametrically opposed to that of Mr. John Cook, of Londonderry, who said that the farmers had ceased to buy, owing totheir belief that the land would shortly become their own on muchbetter terms than they could at present obtain, that I tramped toMonivea, a distance of six miles from Athenry, for the purpose ofascertaining, if possible, how far my Loughrea friend's assertion wasborne out by facts. Monivea is a charming village, built round a greatgreen patch of turf, whereon the children play in regiments. Imaginean oblong field three hundred yards long by one hundred wide, boundedat one end by high trees, at the other by a great manor house inruins, the sides closed in by neat white cottages and a prettyProtestant Church, and you have Monivea, the sweetest village I haveseen in Ireland. Here I interviewed four men, one of whom had justreturned by the Campania from America, to visit his friends after anabsence of many years. This gentleman was a strong Unionist, andridiculed the idea of Home Rule as the most absurd and useless measureever brought forward with the object of benefiting his countrymen. "What will ye do wid it when ye've got it?" he said; "sure it cannever do ye any good at all. How will it put a penny in yer pockets, an' what would ye get by it that ye can't get widout it?" Two farmersthought they would get the land for a much lower rent. They said thatalthough the landowner, Mr. French, was an excellent, kind, andliberal man, and that no fault at all could be found with his brother, the agent, yet still the land was far too dear, and that a largeportion of it was worth nothing at all. "I pay eight and sixpence anacre for land that grows nothing but furze, that a few sheep cannibble round, an', begorra, 'tis not worth half-a-crown. Most iv it isworth just nothin' at all, an' yet I have to scrape together eightand sixpence an acre, " said he. "'Tis not possible to get a livin' outiv it. " "Thin why don't ye lave it?" said the man from Missouri. "Why thin, how could I lave the bit o' ground me father had? Av yeoffered me a hundhred acres o' land for nothin' elsewhere, I vow toGod I would rather stay on the bit o' rock that grows heath and gorse, if I could only get a crust out iv it, far sooner, " said the grumbler. "An' d'ye think Home Rule will enable ye to do betther? Ye'll believeanythin' in Monivea. Ye are the same as iver ye wor. It's no useraisonin' wid yez at all. Sure, the counthry won't be able to dowidout loans, an' who'll lind ye money wid an Irish Parlimint?" "Why would we want money whin there's gowld to be had for the diggin', av we got lave to dig it?" said the man of Monivea. The villagers believe that England prevents their mining for coal, gold, silver, copper; that the British Government tyrannically putsdown all enterprise; that Home Rule will open mines, build railways, factories, institute great public works; that their friends will flockback from America; that all the money now spent out of the countrywill be disbursed in Ireland for Irish manufactures; that the landmust and will become their own for nothing, or next to nothing; and inshort, that simultaneously with the first sitting of an IrishParliament an era of unprecedented prosperity will immediately set in. The two farmers confirmed what I have been told of the reluctance ofthe landlords to part with an acre of the land, and said that men hadreturned from America with money to buy farms, and after havingwandered in vain over Ireland were fain to go back to the States, being unable to purchase even at a fancy price. They have been toldthis by persons in whom they had implicit trust, and I am sure theybelieved it. A fairly educated man, who had travelled, and from whom Iexpected better things, has since assured me that the stories aboutcompulsory closing of mines and quarries had been dinned into him frominfancy, and that he was of opinion that these assertions were wellfounded, and that they could not be successfully contradicted. Everywhere the same story of English selfishness and oppression. Hecited a case in point. "Twenty years ago there was a silver mine inKinvarra. It gave a lot of employment to the people of those parts, and was a grand thing for the country at large. The Government steppedin and closed it. I'm towld by them I can believe that 'twas done tokeep us poor, so that they could manage us, because we'd not be ableto resist oppression and tyranny, we'd be that pauperised. Englanddoes everything to keep us down. They have the police and the soldierseverywhere to watch us that we'd get no money at all. So when they seeus starting a factory, or a fishery, or opening a mine or a quarry, the word comes down to stop it, and if we'd say No, this is our owncountry, and we'll do what we like in it, they'd shoot us down, and wecouldn't help ourselves. I'm not sayin' that I want Home Rule oranything fanciful just for mere sentiment. We only want our own, andHome Rule will give us our own. " The Home Rule party, the Nationalist patriots who know full well thefalsity of these and such-like beliefs, are responsible for thisinvincible ignorance. Hatred and distrust of England are the staple oftheir teachings, which the credulous peasantry imbibe like mother'smilk. The peripatetic patriots who invade the rural communities seemto be easy, extemporaneous liars, having a natural gift fortergiversation, an undeniable gift for mendacity, an inexhaustiblefertility of invention. Such liars, like poets, are born, not made, though doubtless their natural gifts have been improved and developedby constant practice. Like Parolles, they "lie with such volubilitythat you would think Truth were a fool. " The seed has beenindustriously sown, and John Bull is reaping the harvest. Is there nomeans of enlightenment available? Is there no antidote to this poison?I am disposed to believe that if the country were stumped by men ofknown position and integrity much good would be done. Leaflets bearinggood names would have considerable effect. The result might not beseen at once, but the thing would work, and the people have less andless confidence in their leaders. The most unlettered peasant is akeen judge of character, and, given time, would modify his views. Thetruth about the mines, given in clear and simple language, would havea great effect. Education is fighting for the Union. Time is all theLoyalists require. The National Schools must, in the long run, befatal to political priestcraft and traitorous agitation. To return to Loughrea. I walked a short distance out of the town tosee the place where Mr. Blake, Lord Clanricarde's agent, was so foullymurdered. A little way past the great Carmelite Convent I encounteredan old man, who showed me the fatal spot. A pleasant country road withfair green meadows on each side, a house or two not far away, thefields all fenced with the stone walls characteristic of the CountyGalway. "'Twas here, Sorr, that the guns came over the wall. MistherBlake was dhrivin' to church, at about eleven o'clock o' a foinsummer's mornin'. His wife was wid him, an' Timothy Ruane was runnin'the horse--a dacent boy was Tim, would do a hand's turn for anybody. The childer all swore by Tim, be raison he was the boy to give themhalf-pince for sweets and the like o' that. So they dhrove along, andwhin they came tin yards from this, says Tim, sittin' in front wid thereins, says he, 'Misther Blake, I see some men at the back iv theditch, ' says he. 'Drive on, Tim, ' says Misther Blake, 'sure that'snothin' to do with aither you or me. ' An' the next instant both ofthim wor in Eternity! Blake and poor Tim wor kilt outright on thespot, an' nayther of them spoke a word nor made a move, but jistdhropped stone dead, God rest their sowls. An' the wife, that'sMisthress Blake, a good, kind-hearted lady she was, was shot in thehip, an' crippled, but she wasn't kilt, d'ye see. Blake was a hardman, they said, an' must have the rint. An' poor Tim was kilt the wayhe wouldn't tell o' the boys that did it. 'Twas slugs they used, an'not bullets, but they fired at two or three yards, an' so close thatthe shot hasn't time to spread, an' 'tis as good as a cannon ball. Whowere they? All boys belongin' to the place. Mrs. Blake dhropped, an'they thought she was dead, I believe. Some thinks she was shot byaccident, an' that they did not mane to kill a wake woman at all. Butwhin they shot Tim, to kape his mouth shut, why wouldn't they shootthe woman?" Seven men were arrested, and everybody in the place was believed toknow the murderers. The police had no doubt at all that they had theright men. All were acquitted. No evidence was offered. No witnesscared to meet the fate of Blake. Silence, in this case, was golden, and no mistake about it. Walking from the railway station along the main street, in the veryheart of the town, you see on your left the modest steeple of theProtestant church, some fifty yards down Church Street. The town isbuilt on two parallel streets, and Church Street is the principalconnecting artery, about a hundred yards long. Exactly opposite thechurch the houses on the right recede some five or six feet from therank; and here poor Sergeant Linton met his death. He was an Antrimman, a Black Presbyterian, and a total abstainer. His integrity was sowell known that he was exempted from attendance at the policeroll-call. He was death on secret societies, and was thought to knowtoo much. In the soft twilight of a summer's eve he left the mainstreet and sauntered down Church Street. When he reached theindentation above-mentioned a man shot him with a revolver, and fledinto the main street. The unfortunate officer gave chase, pursuing theassassin along the principal thoroughfare, his life-blood ebbing fast, until, on reaching the front of Nevin's Hotel, he fell dead. Arrestswere made, and, as before, the criminal was undoubtedly secured. Againno evidence. The murderer was liberated, but he wisely left thecountry, and will hardly return. A policeman said: "There was no doubtabout the case. The criminal was there. Everybody spotted the man, even those who did not see him shoot. But nobody spoke, and if theyhad spoken he would have got off just the same. The people of thishappy country have brought the art of defeating the law to its highestperfection. The most ignorant peasants know all its weak spots, andthey work them well, very well indeed, from their own point of view. Suppose ten of Linton's comrades had seen the shot fired, and thatthey had immediately caught the assassin, with the revolver in hishands. The jury would not have convicted him. Yes, I know that thejudge in certain cases can set aside the verdict of the jury. If youdid that in Ireland it would cost some lives. Wouldn't there be ashindy! And then there's strong judges and weak judges. Judges don'tlike being shot more than other people. And Irish judges are made offlesh and blood. Look at O'Halloran's case. I was in the Court when itwas tried. A moonlighting case. The police caught a man on the spot, with a rifle having a double load. The thing was clear as the sun atnoonday. Acquitted. The jury said, 'Not guilty'; and the man wentquietly home. The administration of justice with a weak judge, or witha strong judge who feels a weak Government behind him, is a farce inIreland. "What will happen if we do not get the Bill? I think there will besome disturbance--the ruffians are always with us--although the peopledo not want Home Rule. I mean, they don't care about it. The bulk ofthe people would not give sixpence for Home Rule. They have been toldit will pay them well, and they go in for that. Not one of them wouldhave Home Rule if it cost him a penny, unless he believed he'd gettwopence for his outlay. It's the land, and nothing else. The partythat puts the land question on a comfortable footing will rule Irelandfor ever. That's the opinion of every man in the force, in Loughrea orelsewhere. We have a curiosity here--a priest who goes against HomeRule. A very great man he was, head of a college or something, not oneof the common ruck, and he's dead against it, and says so openly. The_Tuam News_ used to pitch into him, but he didn't care, so they gottired of it. No good rowing people up when they laugh at you. " An old woman of the type too common in Ireland came up as the officerleft me, and said:-- "Musha, now, but 'tis the foin, handsome man ye are, an' ye've agintleman's face on ye, bedad ye have, an, '" here she showed ahalfpenny in her withered claw, "this is all I got since I kem out, and me that's twistin' wid the rummatacks like the divil on a hotgriddle; the holy Mother o' God knows its thrue, an' me ould man, that's seventy or eighty or more--the divil a one o' him knows his ownage--he's that sick an' bad, an' that wake intirely, that he couldn'tlift a herrin' wid a pair o' hot tongs; 'tis an ulster he has, thatdoes be ruinin' him, the docthor says; bad luck to it for an ulsterwid a powltice, an' he's growlin' that he has no tobacky, God helphim. (Here I gave her something. ) Almighty God open ye the gates inheaven, the Holy Mother o' God pour blessin's upon ye. 'Tis EnglishmenI like, bedad it is; the grandest, foinest, greatest counthry in thewuruld, begorra it is--an' why not?" This outburst somehow reminded me of a certain gentleman I met at theRailway Hotel, Athenry. He said, "I'm a Home Ruler out and out. Thecounthry's widin a stone's throw o' Hell, an' we may as well be in italthegither. " "Now, Mr. Kelly, " said the charming Miss O'Reilly, "you are mostinconsistent; you sometimes say you are a Conservative----" "Aye, aye, " assented Mr. Kelly, "but that's only when I'm sober!" The Loughreans are quiet now, but the secret societies which dealt solightly with human life are still at work, and the best-informedpeople believe that the murderous emissaries of the Land League, whoseterrorism ruined the town, are only kept down by a powerful andvigilant police. I have only described three of the murders which tookplace in the town and neighbourhood during a comparatively shortperiod. Add Mr. Burke and driver Wallace; both shot dead nearCraughwell. J. Connor, of Carrickeele, who had accepted a situation asbog-ranger, _vice_ Keogh, discharged. Shot. Three men arrested. Noevidence. Patrick Dempsey, who had taken a small farm from whichMartin Birmingham had been evicted. Shot dead in the presence of histwo small children, with whom he was walking to church. No evidence. No convictions, but many more crimes, both great and small. So manymurders that outrages do not count for much. It is to the men who are directly responsible for all these horrorsthat Mr. Gladstone proposes to entrust the government of Ireland. Loughrea, May 16th. No. 23. --THE REIGN OF INDOLENCE. I have just returned from Innishmore, the largest of the Aran islands, the population of which have been lifted from a condition of chronicstarvation and enabled to earn their own livelihood by the splendidorganisation of Mr. Balfour for the relief of the congested districts. Postal and other exigences having compelled a hasty return to themainland, I defer a full account of this most interesting visit untilmy next letter, when I shall also be in possession of fuller and moreaccurate information than is attainable on the island itself. Meanwhile, let us examine the state of Irish feeling by the sad seawaves of Galway Bay. Salthill is a plucky little bathing place; thatis, plucky for Ireland. It is easily accessible from Galway town, andlooks over the bay, but it is more like a long natural harbour withoutships. There is a mile or so of promenade with stone seats atintervals, a shingle dotted with big rocks, a modicum ofslate-coloured sand, like that of Schevening, in Holland, and bluehills opposite, like those of Carlingford Lough. The promenade iskerbed by a massive sea wall of limestone, and here and there flightsof stone steps lead to the water's edge. Facing the sea are handsomevillas, with flower gardens, tidy gravelled walks, shrubberies, snowywindow blinds and other appurtenances of a desperately Protestantappearance. No large hotels, no villas with "Apartments" on a card inthe fanlight, no boatmen plying for hire, no boats even, either ashoreor afloat; no bathing-machines no anything the brutal Saxon mostlyneeds, except fresh air and blazing sunshine. The Galway end of thisfashionable resort has a few shady houses, aggressively Anglicisedwith names like Wave View House and Elm Tree View, the first lookingat a whitewashed wall, the second at a telegraph post. But althoughsome of these houses announce "Furnished Lodgings, " no Englishtourists would "take them on. " If you want to bathe you walk into thesea as you stand, or hand your toga virilis to the bystanders, if any. The Connaught folks have no false modesty. A white-haired gentleman descends from a wagonette and promenades fora while. Then he sits down beside me. The conversation turns on HomeRule. My friend is impatient, has been spending a few days in Belfast. The ignorance of the poor people is astonishing. A Roman Catholic ofthe Northern city told him that the first act of the Irish Parliamentwould be to level Cave Hill, and on the site thereof to build cottagesfor the poor. The hill was full of diamonds, which Queen Victoriawould not allow the poor Irish folks to get. The country would be fullof money. Didn't Mr. Gladstone say we'd have too much?--a clearallusion to the "chronic plethora. " The people would have the upperhand, as they ought to have, and the first thing would be to evict theevictors. The only question was, would they clear out peaceably, orwould it be necessary to call in the aid of the Irish Army ofIndependence? "This poor man evidently believed that every respectable person, everybody possessing means and property, was an enemy to thecommonwealth. An ardent Home Ruler asked me if the majority had aright to rule. He thought that was a triumphant, an unanswerablequestion. I replied that during a long and busy life I had alwaysobserved how, in successful enterprises, the majority did not rule. The intelligent minority, the persons who had shown their wisdom, their industry, their sagacity, their integrity, that they werecompetent and reliable, those, I said, were the people who wereentrusted with the management of great affairs, and not themany-headed mob. The management of Irish affairs promises to be a taskof tremendous difficulty, and those to whom you propose to entrustthis huge and complicated machinery stand convicted of inability tomanage with even tolerable success such comparatively simple affairsas the party journal, or the rent collection of new Tipperary. Boththese enterprises turned out dead failures owing to the totalincapacity of the Irish Parliamentary party. And we are asked toentrust the future of the country to these men, whose onlyqualifications are a faculty for glib talk and an unreasonable hatredof everything English. "Mr. Gladstone has shown to demonstration that statesmen are no longerto direct the course of legislation; are no longer to lead the peopleonward in the paths of progressive improvement. The unthinking, uneducated masses are in future to signify their will, and statesmenare to be the automata to carry out their behests, whatever they maybe. The unwashed, unshorn incapables who have nothing, because theylack the brains and industry to acquire property, are nowadays toldthat they, and they alone, shall decide the fate of empires, shalldecide the ownership of property, shall manipulate the fortunes ofthose who have raised themselves from the dirt by ability, self-denial, and unremitting hard work. Look at the comparativereturns of the illiterate electorate. In Scotland 1 in 160, in England1 in 170, in Ireland 1 in 5. In one quarter of Donegal, a Catholicone, more illiterates than in all Scotland. Not that there is so muchdifference as these figures would seem to show. But if men who canwrite declare themselves illiterate, so that the priests and villageruffians may be satisfied as to how they individually voted, is notthis still more deplorable? The conduct of the English Gladstonianspasses my comprehension. They do not examine for themselves. They sayMr. Gladstone says so-and-so, and for them this is sufficient. Do theysay their prayers to the Grand Old Man?" Another Salthill malcontent said:--"An English visitor sneeringlyasked me how it was that the Irish could not trust one another. Isaid, 'We cannot trust these men, and we can give you what ought to bea satisfactory reason for our distrust. They have been condemned ascriminals by a competent tribunal, presided over by three Englishjudges, one of them a Roman Catholic. They have been found guilty ofcriminal conspiracy, of sympathy with crime, and of having furnishedthe means for its committal, and that after the fairest trial everheld in the world. By a law passed in 1787 by Grattan's Parliamentthey would have suffered the punishment of death for this samecriminal conspiracy. And, apart from Home Rule, leaving the presentagitation altogether out of the question, the respectable classes ofIreland entirely object to be represented by such men, either atWestminster or College Green. Their conduct has done more to ruinIreland than any other calamity which the country has endured for longages. They have displayed an ingenuity of torture, and a refinement ofcruelty, worthy of the Inquisition. Look at the case ofDistrict-inspector Murphy, of Woodford, in this county. Not by anymeans the worst of the tens of thousands of cases all over thecountry, but impressive to me because it came under my ownobservation. At the trial of Wilfrid Blunt, Mr. Murphy deposed uponoath that so severely was he boycotted for the mere performance of hisduty, that his children were crying for bread, and that he was unableto give them any. Policemen had to bring milk from miles away. Inother cases the pupils of these patriots, the preachers of the LandLeague, poured human filth into the water supply of their victims, whowere in many cases ladies of gentle birth and children of tenderyears. Go up to Cong, and walk out to the place where Lord Mountmorreswas murdered, near Clonbur. His whole income was £150 or £200, a poorallowance for a peer, one of the noble house of De Montmorency. He wasshot in broad daylight, a dozen houses within call, and an openuncovered country, save for low stone walls, all around. The peopledanced in derision on the spot where he fell, and threw soil stainedwith his life blood in the air. He wanted his due, and, goodnessknows, he was poor enough to satisfy oven an Irish agitator. His namewas down for the next vacancy among the resident magistrates. Thepeople who were guilty of inciting to those outrages are the mostprominent of the Nationalist party. Is this the class of men you wishto set over us as governors?" An artist named Hamilton, a Guernsey man, said, "The English people donot understand what stonethrowing means in Ireland. They read of rows, and so long as no shooting is done, they do not think it serious. Themen of Connaught are wonderful shots with big stones, and you would besurprised at the force and precision with which they hurl great lumpsof rock weighing three or four pounds. Poor Corbett, a man in LordArdilaun's employ, was killed outright by one of these missiles, andonly the other day I was reading of the Connaught Rangers in Egypt, the old 88th, how they were short of ammunition at the battle ofAboukir, and how they tore down a wall and actually stopped theFrench, who were advancing with the bayonet. " A Galway merchant said:--"Balfour is the man for Ireland. ANationalist member told me he was the cleverest man in the House. Hesaid, 'Chamberlain goes in for hard hitting, and he is very effective, but nobody ever answered the Irish members so readily and smartly asBalfour. We thought twice before we framed our questions, and althoughwe of course disapprove of him, we are bound to admire him immensely. 'And as a business man I think Balfour was fully up to the mark. He itwas who subsidised the Midland and Western Railway to build the lightline now being made between Galway and Clifden. No company would haveundertaken such a concern. As a mere business transaction it could notpay. But look at the good that is being done. The people were starvingfor want of employment, and no unskilled labour is imported to thedistrict, so that the Connemara folks get the benefit of the work, andalso a permanent advantage by the opening up of the Galway fisheries, which are practically inexhaustible. We have the Atlantic to go at. And the fish out of the deep, strong, running water are twice as bigas those just off the coast, on herring-banks and shoals. Thefishermen know this, and they call these places the mackerel hospitalsand infirmaries. These fishermen always knew it, but they had no boatsto go out to the deep seas, no nets, no tackle. They have them now, and they got them from Balfour. They get nothing but Home Rule fromMorley and Gladstone, and they find it keeps them free fromindigestion, although it puts their livers out of order. Amusingchaps, these fishermen. I was in a little country place on the coast, where the judicial and magisterial proceedings are of a very primitivecharacter, and where most of the people speak Irish as theirvernacular. One old chap declined to give evidence in English, andasked for an interpreter. The magistrate, who knew the old wag, said, 'Michael Cahill, you speak English very well, ' to which the old manreplied, ''Tis not for the likes o' me to conthradict yer honner, butdivil resave the word iv it I ondhersthand at all, at all. ' There wasa great roar from the Court, and the interpreter was trotted forward. Another witness was said to have been drunk, but he claimed to be atemperance man. 'What do you drink, ' said the magistrate. 'Wather, yerhonner, ' said the total abstainer. 'Jist pure wather from the springthere beyant, ' and then he looked round the Court, and slyly added, 'Wid jist as much whiskey as will take off the earthy taste, yerhonner. ' He was like the temperance lecturer who preached roundGalway, and was afterwards seen crushing sugar in a stiff glass of thecrathur at Oughterard. When he was caught redhanded, as it were, hesaid, 'To be sure I'm a timprance man, but, bedad, ye can't say thatI'm a bigoted one'! "We want Morley to give us a light railway from Clifden to Westport, and then we'd have the whole coast supplied. But he's a tight-fistedone as regards practical work. We've no chance with him, except inmatters of sentiment. He wants to give Home Rule, but we can't eatthat. And my impression is that we are fast drifting into the positionof the man who has nothing, and from whom shall be taken the littlethat he hath. As to arguments against Home Rule, I do not think it acase for argument. That the thing is bad is self-evident; andself-evident propositions, whether in Euclid or elsewhere, are alwaysthe most difficult to prove. Ask me to prove that two added to twomake four, ask me how many beans make five, and I gracefully retire. Ask me to show that Home Rule will be bad for Ireland, and I will makebut a slight departure from this formula. I say, on the supporters ofHome Rule rests the _onus probandi_; they are the people who shouldshow cause, let them prove their case in its favour. Here I am, quitesatisfied with the laws as they now are. Show me, say I, how I shallbenefit by the proposed change. That knocks them speechless. InEngland they may make a pretence of proving their case, but in thiscountry they are dumb in the presence of Unionists. They cannot arguewith enlightened people. They have not a leg to stand upon, and theyknow it. "Consider the fulminations of Archbishop Walsh with regard to thatDublin Freemason Bazaar in aid of orphan children. As you must haveheard, the Sacraments were refused to any Catholic attending thispurely charitable movement. The Church said in effect--Any one whoaids the orphans of freemasons by going to this bazaar, or bypatronising the function, whether directly or indirectly, will bedamned everlastingly. And the Catholics kept away, frightened by thisthreat. What would you expect of a people who believe such rubbish? Doyou think that a people powerfully influenced, supremely influenced, by the word of a priest are fit to govern themselves? Can you dependon the loyalty of the Catholic priesthood? You surely know better thanthat. Suppose you gave Ireland Home Rule, and the Church turned rusty?With matters in the hands of an Irish Parliament, who would have thepull in weight of influence, John Bull or the priests? You arewalking into a snare with your eyes open. Soon you will be punchingyour own head and calling yourself a fool. And you will be quiteright. England is giving herself away at the bidding of a crowd offellows who in Ireland are not received into decent society, and fewof whom could get 'tick' for a week's board or a week's washing. Notthat the latter would be much hardship. Clean linen is a novelty tothe bulk of them. And seventy-one out of eighty of these upstarts mustdo the bidding of the priests. "Poor old Bull! The fine fellow he was. Respected by everybody. Strongbut good-humoured, never hurting a soul. Slapping his breeches pocketnow and then, and looking round the world with an eye that seemed tosay, 'I could buy and sell the lot of ye; look what a fine fellow Iam!' And he was. And he knew it, too. His only fault. Ready to lend adeserving friend a trifle, and apt to poke his nose into what didn'tconcern him, especially when a small country was being put upon. ThenJohn would come up and say, 'Let him alone, will yer. ' Alaughing-stock in his old age. But yesterday he might have stoodbefore the world: now none so poor to do him reverence, --Shakespeare!That's what's coming. Poor old Bull! In his dotage making a rod towhip himself. Well, well. " There are Presbyterians at Salthill. Wherever they are they alwayswear good coats, have good houses, well-clad children. To becomfortably off seems part of their creed. One of them said, "Therenever was a more faithful worshipper of the Grand Old Man thanmyself, --up to a certain time, I mean. I dropped him before he wentover to Parnell. I gave him up on account of his inconsistency. Whatstaggered me was a trick he tried to play the Queen's Collegearrangements in Ireland. It was a supplemental charter really changingthe whole constitution of the thing, and he tried to carry his pointby a dodge. I did not care much about the matter one way or the other, but I thought his underhanded trickery unworthy a statesman, or anyother man. I tried not to believe it; that is, I would rather not havebelieved it. I had a sort of feeling that it couldn't be. But it wasso. Then his pamphlet about Vaticanism, in which he said no RomanCatholic could be loyal, after which he appointed the Marquess ofRipon, a Catholic convert, or pervert, to the Governor-Generalship ofIndia, the most important office in the gift of the Crown. Again, Ihad no objection to the action in itself, but I considered it from Mr. Gladstone's point of view, and then it dawned on me that he would sayanything. You never know what he'll do next. What he says is no guideat all nowadays to what he'll do. He was my hero, but a change hascome over him, and now he cannot be trusted. He ought to be lookedafter in some public institution where the keepers wouldn't contradicthim. He was a great man before his mind gave way. " A bustling Belfaster of fatiguing vitality told me this little storywhich my friends the Catholic clergy may disprove if they can. Hesaid:--"Mr. McMaster, of the firm of Dunbar, McMaster and Co. , ofGilford, County Down, conceived the idea of aiding his fellow-countrymenand women who were starving in the congested districts. This was sometime ago, but it is a good illustration of the difficulty you have inhelping people who will not help themselves. He drew up a scheme, wellthought-out and workable, such as a thorough business man might beexpected to concoct, and sent down his agent to the districts ofGweedore in Donegal and Maam in Galway, with instructions to engage asmany families as possible to work in the mills of the firm, noted allover the world for thread, yarn, and linen-weaving. An enormous affair, employing a whole township. The agent was provided with a documentemanating from the priest of the district into which they were invitedto migrate, setting forth that no proselytism was intended, and thatthe migrants would be under the care of Catholic clergy. As they hadneither money nor furniture worth moving, it was agreed to pay the costof transit, and to provide clean, sweet cottages, ready furnished, andwith every reasonable convenience. The furniture was to be paid for byinstalments, but the cost of removal was to be a gift from Mr. McMaster, who was desirous of aiding the people without pauperisingthem. They were to work the ordinary factory hours, as enacted bystatute, and to be paid the ordinary wages. But they were required towork regularly. No saints' days, no lounging about on the "pattherns"(patron saints' days), no in-and-out running, but steady, regularattendance. People who knew the Keltic Irish laughed at Mr. McMaster, but he had seen their poverty, their filth, their mud cabins, theirsemi-starvation, and he thought he knew. He offered them work, andeverything they seemed to want, out of pure humanity. "How many people moved to Gilford out of the two counties?" "Peradventure there might be a hundred found, peradventure there mightbe fifty, thirty, twenty, ten. " "Guess again. Give it up? Not a single solitary soul accepted Mr. McMaster's offer. These are the people who are waiting for Home Rule. Much good may it do them. " A little Galway man became irate. "'Tis our birthright to hateEngland. That's why we want Home Rule that we may tache thim theirplace. I'd fight England, an' I'd do more. " Here he looked sternly atthe Ulsterman. "I'd do more, I say, I'd fight thim that'd shtand upfor her. D'ye see me now?" The Belfast man proved an awkward customer. He said, "You're too busyto fight anybody just now, you Nationalists. Wait till you've settledyour differences, wait till you've cut each other's throats, wait tillyou've fought over the plunder, like the Kilkenny cats, till there'snothing left of you but the tail. Then we'll send down an army of owldwomen with besoms to sweep ye into the Atlantic. 'Twill be the firstbath your Army of Independence ever got. 'Twill cool their courage andclean their hides at the same time. " The small Separatist was about to make an angry reply, when Iinterposed with an inquiry as to his estimate of Mr. Gladstone. "Ah, " said the little man, with a pucker of his little nose, and agrand gesture of contempt, "sure he's not worth as much powdher aswould blow him to hell. " His sentiment lacks novelty, but I quote him for the picturesquenessof his style. Salthill, May 18th. No. 24. --THE ARAN ISLANDS. The Aran Islanders seem to have passed most of their time in a stateof chronic starvation. The land seems to grow little but rock, and theburning of seaweed, the kelp trade, does not seem to have helped themmuch. True, the Atlantic was all before them, where to choose, butwhat Father Mahony would call the teeming treasures of the deep werepractically left untouched. If we accept the plain meaning of the goodpriest's speech, we must believe that the Aran Islanders and Irishfishermen generally preferred to starve rather than to catch fish, unless an Irish Parliament were fixed on College Green. They had noobjection to accept charitable aid, no matter from what quarter itcame, and the Araners required assistance every other year. They werenot unwilling to catch fish, but they had nothing to catch them with;and, strange as it may seem, these islanders, who could scarcely movefive yards in any direction without falling into the sea, theseamphibious Irishmen, did not know the art of catching fish! Theytinkered and slopped around the shoals in the vicinity of the island, but they were never able to catch enough fish to keep themselves fromstarvation, much less to supply the Dublin and London markets. Theirboats were the most primitive affairs imaginable, and showed the Irishspirit of conservatism to perfection. These coraghs are practicallythe same boat as the Welsh coracle, but much larger. Those I examinedwere from ten to fifteen feet long and three feet wide. Oak ribs, overwhich are nailed laths of white deal, two inches wide and half an inchthick. Cover this slight skeleton with tarred canvas, and the ship isnearly complete. It only needs two pairs of wooden thole-pins, and twopairs of oars, long, light, and thin, coming nearly to a point at thewater-end, having a perforated block which works on the thole-pinsbefore-mentioned. You want no keel, no helm, no mast. Stay! You need aboard or two for seats for the oarsmen. With these frail cockleshellsthe Araners adventure themselves twelve miles on the Atlantic, andmostly come home again. These makeshift canoes are almost useless forcatching fish. Having no helm, it is hard to keep them straight;having no keel, it is needful to sit still, or at any rate to maintaina perfect balance, or over you go. A gust of wind spins the canoeround like a top. These primeval boats are made on the island, throwntogether out of fifteen-pennyworth of wood, a few yards of canvas, anda pitch-pot. They have some virtues. They are cheap, and they will notsink. The coraghs always come back, even if bottom up. And when theyreach the shore the two occupants (if any) invert the ship, stick ahead in the stem and another in the stern, and carry her home to tea. This process is apt to puzzle the uninformed visitor, who sees astrange and fearful animal, like a huge black-beetle, crawling up thecliffs. He begins to think of "antres huge and deserts vast, andanthropophagi, and men whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders. "He hesitates about landing, but if he be on the Duras, Captain NealDelargy, who equally scoffs at big beetles and Home Rule, willexplain, and will accompany him to the tavern on the cliff side, wherethey charge ordinary prices for beer and give you bread-and-cheese fornothing. And yet the Araners profess to be civilised. In pursuance of his policy of helping the people to help themselves, Mr. Balfour determined to educate the Araners, and to give themsufficient help in the matter of boats and tackle to make theireducation of some avail. It was useless to give them boats and nets, for they knew not how to use them, and it is certain that any boatclub on the Birmingham Reservoir, or any tripper who has gone mackerelfishing in Douglas Bay, could have given these fishermen much valuableinformation and instruction. Having once determined to attempt on atolerably large scale the establishment of a fresh mackerel and freshherring trade with England, Mr. Balfour set about the gigantic anddiscouraging task of endeavouring nothing less than the creation ofthe local industry. But how were the people to be taught themanagement of large boats, and the kind of nets that were used? Aftermuch inquiry, it was decided to subsidise trained crews from otherparts of Ireland to show the local fishermen what earnings might betheirs, and at the same time to impart needful instruction to theConnemara and Aran people. It was also arranged to make loans for thepurchase of boats and tackle to such persons as might prove likely tobenefit by them. Accordingly arrangements were made with the crews ofseven Arklow boats to proceed to the Aran Islands, and in order toindemnify them for the risk of working on an untried fishing ground, each crew received a bounty of £40 from the Congested Districts Board. But there was no use in catching fish unless it could be quickly puton the market, and again the necessary plant proved a matter involvingconsiderable expenditure. A derelict Norwegian ship, which two orthree years ago had been discovered at sea and towed into QueenstownHarbour, was purchased from the salvors, and anchored in Killeany Bay, outside the harbour of Kilronane, the capital city of the biggestAran, as an ice-hulk. The Board then entered into an agreement withMr. W. W. Harvey, of Cork, to market the mackerel at a fixed rate ofcommission, it being also arranged that he should pay the fishermenthe English market price less by a deduction of 7s. A box to coverthe cost of ice-packing, carriage, and English salesman's commission. The ice-hulk and boxes were provided by the Board, but Mr. Harvey wasto purchase the ice and defray all the cost of labour except thesalary of a manager. In addition to the seven Arklow crews two boats were fitted out byMiss Mansfield for training crews from the parish of Carna, inConnemara; and Miss Skerritt also placed two English-built boats atthe Board's disposal for the training of crews from the prettywatering place of Clifden, also in Connemara. An Aran hooker, belonging to Innishmore, joined the little fishing fleet, bringing upthe number to exactly a dozen boats. The Rev. W. S. Green, a Protestantparson, who is said to have first discovered these fishing grounds, and who threw himself into the work with wonderful enthusiasm, superintended the experiment in the steamer Fingal, which wasspecially chartered for the purpose. Mr. Green as a skilled FisheriesInspector, knew what he was about, and he was empowered to lend nets, where advisable, to the Aran beginners. Away they went to sea, tostart with a fortnight's heart-breaking luck. The water in thoseregions was cold, and the fish were amusing themselves elsewhere. Theice-hulk with its two hundred tons of Norwegian ice was waiting, andits staff of packers might cool their ardour in the hold. The mackerelwould not come to be packed, and the dozen boats, with their masterand apprentice crews, cruised up and down on the deep blue sea, withthe blue sky overhead, and hope, like Bob Acres' valour, graduallyoozing out of their finger-ends. The Arklow men began to talk of goinghome again. Altogether it was a blue look-out. At last the luck turned. On April 6th, 1892, six thousand mackerelwere despatched to the English market. The weather during much of theseason was stormy and unfavourable, but on May 18th, seventy-threethousand three hundred and fifty mackerel were sent to Galway, thirtymiles away by sea, and were forwarded thence by two special trains. The Midland and Western Railway, under the management of Mr. JosephTatlow, has been prompt, plucky, and obliging, and runs the fish toDublin as fast as they arrive in Galway. During the season of tenweeks the experienced Arklow crews made on an average £316 per boat, and the greenhorns who were learning the business earned about £70 perboat, although they could not fish at all at the beginning of theseason. The total number of mackerel packed on the ice-hulk amountedto the respectable total of two hundred and ninety-nine thousand fourhundred and eighty. The "teeming treasures of the deep" were not leftuntouched on this occasion, though, doubtless, "still the Irishpeasant mourns, still groans beneath the cruel English yoke. " Mr. Balfour's benefactions have not been confined to the Aran Islands. Every available fishing place from top to bottom of the whole westcoast has been similarly aided, and the value of their produce hasincreased from next to nothing to something like fifty thousandpounds per month. This on the authority of Father P. J. McPhilpin, parish priest of Kilronane, Innishmore, who said:-- "We never had a Chief Secretary who so quickly grasped the position, who so rapidly saw what was the right thing to do, and who did it sothoroughly and so promptly. Strange to say the Liberals are always themost illiberal. When we get anything for Ireland it somehow alwaysseems to come from the Tories. " Having been carried from Galway to the ice-hulk in Killeany Bay, andhaving been duly put ashore in a boat, one of the first persons I sawwas Father Thomas Flatley, coadjutor of Father McPhilpin, an earnestHome Ruler, like his superior, and like him a great admirer of Mr. Balfour. Father Flatley wore a yachting cap, or I might have sheeredoff under all sail--the biretta inspires me with affright--but hisnautical rig reassured me, and yawing a little from my course, I putup my helm and boarded him. Too late I saw the black flag--I mean thewhite choker--but there was nothing of the pirate about Father Tom. Hewas kindly, courteous, earnest, humorous, hospitable, and full ofLatin quotations. Before our acquaintance was two minutes old heinvited me to dinner. Then I ran aground on an Arklow boatman, JamesDoyle by name, a smart tweed-suited sailor, bright and gay. The PostOffice was near, and the letters were being given out. Threedeliveries a week, weather permitting. The parish priest was there, grave, refined, slightly ascetic, with the azure blue eyes so commonin Connaught, never seen in England, although frequently met with inNorway and North Germany. The waiting-women were barefoot, but all themen were shod. The Araners have a speciality in shoes--pampooties, towit. These are made of raw hide, hair outwards, the toe-piece drawnin, and the whole tied on with string or sinew. The cottages arebetter built than many on the mainland. Otherwise the winter galeswould blow them into the Atlantic main. The thatch is pegged downfirmly, and then tied on with a close network of ropes. The people areclean, smart, and good-looking. Miss Margaret Flanagan, who escortedme in my search after pampooties, would pass for a pretty girlanywhere, and the Aran Irish flowed from her lips like a rivulet ofcream. She spoke English too. An accomplished young lady, MissMargaret Kilmartin, aged nineteen, said her father had been wrongfullyimprisoned for two and a half years for shooting a bailiff. Thenational sports are therefore not altogether unknown in the Arans. Miss Kilmartin was _en route_ for America, per Teutonic, first to NewYork, and then a thousand miles by rail, alone, and without a bonnet. She had never been off the island. This little run would be her firstflutter from the paternal nest. The Araners know little of politics, save that the Balfour Governmentlifted them out of the horrible pit and the miry clay, and set theirfeet upon a rock and established their goings. The Balfour boats arethere, the Balfour nets are full of fish, the Balfour boys arelearning a useful occupation, and earning money meanwhile. If there isanything in the Aran cupboards, the Araners know who enabled them toput it there. If the young ladies have new shoes, new shawls, newbrooches; if the Aran belles make money by mending nets; if the mensometimes see beef; if they compass the thick twist; if they managewithout the everlasting hat going round, they have Mr. Balfour tothank, and they know it. They own it, not grudgingly or of necessity, but cheerfully. One battered old wreck raised his hat at every mentionof the name. I saw no Morley boats. I saw no Gladstone nets. I saw noHome Rule fish. The Araners do not care for the Grand Old Mendacium. Perhaps they lack patriotism. It may be that they do not share whatMr. Gladstone calls the Aspirations of a people. So far as I couldjudge, their principal aspiration is to get something to eat. Apampootied native who has often visited the main-land, and isevidently looked upon as a mountain of sagacity and superior wisdom, said to me-- "Not a bit they care but to look afther the wife and childher an' prayto God for good takes o' fish. An' small blame to thim. Before Balfourthe people were starvin', an' ivery other year Father Davis that'sdead this six months would go round beggin' an' prayin' for a thrifleto kape life in thim. The hardships and the misery the poor folks had, God alone knows. An' would ye say to thim, 'tis Home Rule ye want? "There was a young fellow fishin' here from Dublin. He went out in thehookers an' injoyed himself all to pieces, a dacent sthrip of a boy, but wid no more brains than a scalpeen (pickled mackerel). He got meto be interpreter to an owld man that would spake wid him over onInnishmair, an' the owld chap wos tellin' his throubles. So afther abit, the young fellow says, says he, "''Tis Home Rule ye want, ' says he. "'No, ' says the owld chap, shakin' his head, 'tis my dinner I want, 'says he. "An' that young fellow was mad whin I thranslated it. But 'twas thrue, ivery word iv it. 'Ah! the ignorance, the ignorance, ' says he. Butthen he was spakin' on a full stomach, an' 'tis ill arguin' betwixt afull man and a fastin'. "I wouldn't say but they'd take more notice afther a while. Butthey're not used to bein' prosperous, an' they don't know themselvesat all. Ye can't cultivate politics on low feed. 'Tis the high livin'that makes the Parliamint men that can talk for twenty-four hours at asthretch. An' these chaps is gettin' their backs up. In twelve months'time they'll be gettin' consated. 'Tis Balfour that's feedin' thiminto condition. Vote against him? Av coorse they will, ivery man o'thim. Sure they'll be towld to vote for a man, an' they'll do it. Howwould they ondhersthand at all? Av 'twas Misther Balfour himself thatwanted their vote he'd get it fast enough. But 'tisn't. An' they'llvote agin' him without knowin' what they're doin'. " Father McPhilpin said, "It is very hard to get them to move. TheIrish people are the most conservative in the world. They will notstir for telling, and they will not stir when you take them by thecollar and haul them along. They are wedded to the customs of theirancestors; and yet, when once they see the advantage to be obtained byany given change, no people are so quick to follow it up. Thedifficulty is to start them. The Araners had actually less knowledgeof the sea, of boats, nets, and fishing, than people coming here froman inland place. Surprising, but quite true. " Speaking on the general question of Home Rule, I asked FatherMcPhilpin if the people of Ireland would be loyal. "Loyal to what?" said the Father, replying quickly. "Loyal to England, to the Crown, to Queen Victoria. " "The Irish people have always been loyal--much more loyal than theEnglish people. You have only to look at English history. How farshall I go back, Father Tom?" said my genial host to the coadjutor, who just then entered the room. "Shall we go back to Henry II. ? Whereshall we begin, Father Tom?" "Well, " said Father Tom, "I'd not be for going back quite so far. Ithink if we began with Charles I. ----" "Very good. Now, were not the Irish loyal when the English peopledisloyally favoured their Oliver Cromwell and their William theThird?" I proceeded with the imbibition of Father McPhilpin's excellent tea. The answer was obvious, but Father Tom clearly believed that hissenior had me on the hip, and good-naturedly came in with a Latinquotation or two. Both clerics were deeply interested in the conditionof the poor in their charge, and indeed all over Ireland, and theirprofound belief that a Home Rule Bill would benefit the poorerclasses, by changing the conditions affecting the tenure or ownershipof land, was apparently their chief reason for advocating a CollegeGreen Parliament. Father McPhilpin holds some honorary officialposition in connection with the Aran fisheries, and from him I derivedmost of my information. Another authority assured me that the Aranerswere not grateful to England nor to Mr. Balfour, and spoke of theviper that somebody warmed in his bosom with disagreeable results. But, as Father Tom would say, _Omnis comparatio claudicat_, and all myexperience points to a proper appreciation of the great ex-Secretary'sdesire to do the country good. The people know how thoroughly heexamined the subject; how he spent weeks in the Congested Districts;how he saw the parish priests, the head men of the districts, thecotters themselves. Every Irishman, whatever his politics, willreadily agree that Mr. Balfour knows more about Ireland than anyEnglishman living, and most of them credit him with more knowledge ofthe subject than any Irishman. My thorough-going friend, Mr. McCoy, ofGalway, hater of England, avowed Separatist, longing to wallow in thebrutal Saxon's gore, thinks Mr. Balfour the best friend that Irelandever had. "I'd agree with you there, " said Mr. McCoy. "I don't agreewith charity, but I agree with putting people in a way to do thingsfor themselves, which is what Mr. Balfour has done. " Back on the ice-hulk by favour of Thomas Joyce, of Kilronane, skipperand owner of a fishing smack. Mr. William Fitzgerald showed thefactory, the great hold with the ice, the windmill which pumps thehulk, the mountains of boxes for fish, the mackerel in process ofpacking, sixty in a box, most of them very large fish. An unhappyhalibut, which had come to an untimely end, stood on his tail in anarrow basket, his mouth wide open, looking like a Home Rule oratordescanting on the woes of Ireland. He was slapped into a box andinstantly nailed down, which summary process suggested an obviouswish. Mr. Fitzgerald said: "The fisheries have been a great success, andhave done much good. The spring fishery paid well on account of thegreat price we got for the mackerel. It is not customary to catch fishso early, but when you can do it it pays splendidly. Just now theprice is not up to the mark, but we hope for better times. The Arklowmen are not subsidised this year. They didn't need it. The groundproved productive, and they were glad to come on their own hook. Ifthey had required a second subsidy they would not have got it. " "Why not?" "I'm no politician, " said Mr. Fitzgerald. "The Araners are so strongand hardy that they would surprise you. They will stand all day on theice, with nothing on but those pampooties, and you would think they'dneed iron soles, instead of a bit of skin. They work hard, and comeregularly and give no trouble. No, I could not find any fault withthem. They mostly speak Irish among themselves. It's Greek to me, butI can make out that they think a great deal of Mr. Balfour. " A week on the hulk would be refreshing, for on one side there is noland nearer than America. However, I have to go, for the Duras isgetting uneasy, so I leave the hulk, the mackerel, the big sea troutwhich are caught with the mackerel, and steam back to Galway. Asplendid fellow in the cabin discloses his views. "We must havecomplete independence. We shall start with 120, 000 men for the Army ofIndependence. That will be only a nucleus. We shall attract all thebrave, chivalrous, adventurous spirits of America. England has Indiato draw from. Trot your niggers over, we'll make short work of them. We draw from America, Australia, every part of the world. We draw from24, 000, 000 of Irishmen all willing to fight for nothing, and even topay money to be allowed to fight against England. An Irish Republic, under the protection of America. That's the idea. It's the naturalthing. Work the two countries together and England may slide. We'llhave an Independent Irish Republic in four years; perhaps in threeyears. Rubbish about pledges of loyalty. The people must be loyal tothemselves, not to England. Our members will do what the people want, or they will be replaced by men who will. We have the sentiments ofthe people, backed by the influence of religion, all tending tocomplete independence. Who's going to prevent it? We'll have aDeclaration of Independence on Saint Patrick's Day, 1897, at latest. Who'll stop it? Mr. Gladstone? Why long before that time we'll converthim, and ten to one he'll draw up the document. What'll you bet thathe doesn't come over to Dublin and read it in THE HOUSE?" Galway, May 20th. No. 25. --THE PRIESTS AND OUTRAGE. THEY NEVER CONDEMNED IT. The people of Moycullen with whom I have spent a day are hardlypatriotic. So far as I can gather, they have always paid their rentsand worked hard for their living. They know nothing of Home Rule, andthey do not murder their friends and neighbours. They send forth astrong contingent of men to work on Mr. Balfour's railway betweenGalway and Clifden, and find the weekly wages there earned veryconvenient. They vote as they are told, and do not trouble themselveswith matters which are too high for them. If a candidate proposes tomake the land much cheaper, or even to spare the necessity of payingany rent at all, the Moyculleners give him their voice. Like everyCatholic villager in Ireland they look to Father Pat, Tom, Dick, orHarry for advice, and the good priest gives them the right tip. Hepoints out that Micky O'Codlin promises to support such legislation asshall place the land in the hands of the tillers of the soil, whilethe Protestant Short declares that the thing is not honest, and cannotbe done. The result is precisely what might be expected. TheNationalist members are returned, and Mr. Gladstone, with his mostgrandiose manner, and with the abject magnanimity he always shows whenthoroughly beaten, comes forward and declares he can no longer resistthe aspirations of a people. The Separatist sheep tumble over eachother in their nervous anxiety to keep close on the heels of thebell-wether, and the Empire is threatened with disintegration to suitthe convenience of a party of priests. An eminent Roman Catholiclawyer of Dublin, a Home Ruler, said to me:-- "I vote for Home Rule because the sooner the thing is settled thebetter, and it will never be settled until we get Home Rule in someform or other. The country is weary of the agitation of the lasttwenty years, and I am of opinion that Home Rule would do much torestore the freedom of Ireland. For Ireland is in a state ofslavery--not to England, but to the priesthood. I believe in thefundamental doctrines of the faith, but I don't believe everything thepriests choose to tell me. I am ready to admit that they have morespiritual gifts and graces than anybody else, but I will not believethat they know more about politics, and I will not submit to theirdictation. They control the course of affairs both sacred and secular. At the present moment they are running the British Empire. You cannotget away from the fact that they return the Irish majority, and youwill admit that the Irish majority is now the ruling power. Let meillustrate my point. "You in England think we have the franchise in Ireland. Nothing of thekind. There may be a hundred thousand in the North who vote as theythink proper, but an overwhelming majority of the South are absolutelyin the hands of the clergy, who in many cases lead or drive them inhundreds to the poll. " Here an English civil engineer said:--"When I was engaged on a line atMayo I actually saw the priest walking in front of some hundreds ofvoters brought into the town from the rural districts. I was drivingalong in a car, and my driver shouted 'Parnell for ever!' He wasstruck on the head and face, his cheek cut open, and himself knockedoff the car. How the priestly party do hate the Parnellites! I wonderwhat would happen if the Nationalists got into power. " "They would exterminate each other, if possible, " said the Dublin man. "We should have an awful ferment, a chaos, an immediate bankruptcy. But let us have it. Let us make the experiment, and thus for eversettle the question. To return to the priests. The people of Irelandhave not the franchise, which is monopolised by a few thousand priestsand bishops. The Nationalist members, the dauntless seventy-one, areas much the nominees of the Catholic clergy as the old pocket-boroughmembers were nominees of the local landlords. And the same thing willhold good in future. People tell you it will not be so, but that's allhumbug. It may be different in five-and-twenty years, when the peopleare educated, when the National Schools have done their work, but halfthat time is enough to ruin England. Thanks to agitators, Irelandcannot be any worse off than she is. " Some time ago there was a Convention in Dublin, a Home RuleConvention. There were five hundred delegates, sent up by the votes ofthe people. Four hundred and nine were priests, who had returnedthemselves. Can the English Gladstonians get away from thesuggestiveness of this fact? Is it sufficiently symptomatic? Can theynot diagnose the progress of the disease? One of the Galway Town Commissioners, also a Roman Catholic, declaredthat the Irish people, once the kindliest, most honest, mostconscientious amongst the nations of the earth, had for years beentaught a doctrine of malevolence. "They were naturally benevolent, buttheir nature has been changed, and I regret to say that in a largemeasure the priests are responsible for the change. Where once mutualhelp and perfect honesty reigned, you now find selfishness and mutualdistrust. The priests have made the altar a hustings, and even worsethan electioneering has been done on that sacred spot. From the altarhave been denounced old friends and neighbours who had dared to havean opinion of their own, had dared to show an independent spirit, andto hold on what they thought the true course in spite of theblackguard population of the district. Take the case of O'Mara, ofParsonstown. He was the principal merchant of the place, a very kindlyman, of decided politics, a Catholic Conservative, like myself. Hesold provisions to what the local priest called the 'helmeted minionsof our Saxon taskmasters. ' In other words, he sold bread to theconstabulary at a time when outrage and murder were being put downwith a strong hand. The priest threatened him with boycotting, hisfriends urged him to give way, and let the police get their 'prog'from a distance, but O'Mara, who was an easy-going man, and who hadnever obtruded his politics on anyone, showed an unexpected obstinacy, and said he would do as he chose, spite of all the priests on earth. They denounced him from the altar, but, although they tried hard, theyfailed to ruin him. In other cases, clerical influence has dragged menfrom positions of competency and caused them to end their days in theworkhouse. Then, again, the priests never denounced outrage. Theymight have stopped the fiendish deeds of the murderous blackguardswhose evil propensities were fostered and utilised by the Land League, but they said no word of disapproval. On the contrary they tacitlyfavoured, or seemed to favour, the most awful assassinations. When thePhoenix Park murders took place, a Galway priest whom I will notname said that he had been requested to ask for the prayers of thefaithful in favour of Mr. Burke, one of the murdered men, who belongedto an old Galway family. And what was the remark made by that followerof Jesus Christ? He said, 'I have mentioned the request. You can prayfor his soul--_if you like_. ' What he meant was plain enough. " "Let me tell you of something even worse, " said the Dublin lawyer. "Ina certain Catholic church which I regularly attend, and on a Sundaywhen were present two or three eminent Judges, with a considerablenumber of the Dublin aristocracy, a certain dignitary, whom I alsowill not name before our Sassenach friend, actually coupled the namesof honest people who had died in their beds with the names of Curleyand the other assassins who were hanged for the Phoenix Park murders. We were invited to pray for their souls _en bloc_! And this, mind you, not at the time of the execution, but a year afterwards, on theanniversary of the day, and when the thing might well have beenallowed to drop. Did you ever hear of anything more outrageous thanthe conduct of this priest, who took upon himself to mention thesebrutal murderers in the same breath with the blessed departed, whosefriends and relations were kneeling around? The fact that this clericcould so act shows the immunity of the Irish priesthood, and theirconfidence in their influence over the people. Don't forget that thiswas in the capital of Ireland, and that the congregation wasaristocratic. How great must be priestly influence over the unletteredpeasantry. You see my point? What would the English say to such anexhibition? What would the relatives of decent people in England doif they had been submitted to such an insult by a Protestant parson?" I disclaimed any right to speak for the brutal Saxon with any degreeof authority, but ventured to say that to the best of my knowledge andbelief the supposititious reverend gentleman, when next he took hiswalks abroad, might possibly become acquainted with a novel butvigorous method of propulsion, or even might undergo the process sofamiliar to Tim Healy, not altogether unconnected with a horsewhip. The Galway Town Commissioner said:--"We respectable Catholics are in avery awkward position. We have to live among our countrymen who are ofa different way of thinking, and unhappily we cannot express ourhonest opinions without embarassing consequences. In England, wherepeople of opposite politics meet on terms of most sincere friendship, you do not understand our difficulties. We are denounced asunpatriotic, as enemies to our native land, and as aiders and abettorsof the hated English rule. Now we know very well--my friend fromDublin, who understands law, will bear me out--we know very well thatthe English laws are good, excellent, liberal. We know that theEnglish people are anxious to do what is fair and right, and that theyhave long been doing their best to make us comfortable. But we mustkeep this knowledge to ourselves, for such of us who are in businesswould run great risk of loss, besides social ostracism, if we venturedto boldly express our views. Moreover, we do not care to put ourselvesin open conflict with the clergy, upon whom we have been taught tolook from earliest childhood with reverence and awe. It is almost, ifnot quite, a matter of heredity. I declare that, in spite of what Imight call my intellectual convictions, I am to some extent overawedby any illiterate farmer's son, who has been ordained a priest. I feelit in my blood. I must have imbibed it with my mother's milk. No usefor Conservative Catholics to kick against it. We are too few, and weare bound hand and foot. " So did the Galway man deliver himself. I was reminded of Mr. O'Ryan, of Larne, a devoted Catholic, who said, "I protest from my innermostheart against Home Rule. I protest not only for myself, but also onbehalf of my co-religionists that dare not speak, because if they didspeak their lives might not be worth an hour's purchase, not beingsituated, as I am, in the midst of a loyal, and law-abidingpopulation. I believe that all that Ireland requires is a justsettlement of the land question, and a fair, reasonable measure oflocal self-government. For several generations past England has beendoing all the good she could for Ireland, and none have more reasonthan the Roman Catholics of Ireland to be thankful for that good. Theloyal Roman Catholics of Ireland are convinced that Home Rule would bethe ruin of Ireland in particular and of the British Empire ingeneral, which would find itself deprived in a few hours of aConstitution the workmanship of centuries, and the admiration of thewhole nineteenth-century civilisation. " This is tolerably outspoken for an Irish Roman Catholic, but Mr. O'Ryan lives in Ulster, where people do not shoot their neighbours fordifference of political opinion. He said more: "We loyal Catholicscould never submit to Mr. Gladstone's ticket-of-leave men placed inpower over us in this country, and rather than submit to them we areprepared for the worst, and ready, if need be, to die with the words, 'No surrender, ' on our lips. " Archbishop Walsh cursed the Dublin Bazaar for the Irish MasonicOrphanage until he was black in the face, but neither he nor any otherCatholic Bishop denounced the perpetrators of outrage, of mutilation, of foul assassinations. When Inspector Martin was butchered on thesteps of the presbytery at Gweedore; when Joseph Huddy and John Huddywere murdered and their bodies put in sacks and thrown into LoughMask; when Mrs. Croughan, of Mullingar, was murdered because she hadbeen seen speaking to the police, four shots being fired into herbody; when Luke Dillon, a poor peasant, was shot dead as he walkedhome from work; when Patrick Halloran, a poor herdsman, was shot deadat his own fireside; when Michael Moloney was murdered for paying hisrent; when John Lennane, an old man who had accepted work from aboycotted farmer, was shot dead in the midst of his family; whenThomas Abram met precisely the same fate under similar circumstances;when Constable Kavanagh was murdered; when John Dillon had his brainsbeaten out and his ears torn away; when Patrick Freely was murderedfor paying his rent; when John Curtin was shot dead by moonlighters, to whom he refused to give up his guns; when John Forhan, a feeble oldman of nearly seventy years, was murdered for having induced labourersto work on a boycotted farm; when James Ruane, a labourer who workedfor a boycotted farmer, was murdered by three shots; when James Quinnwas wounded by a bullet, and while disabled, killed by having histhroat cut; when Peter McCarthy was murdered because it was thought hemeant to pay rent; when James Fitzmaurice, aged seventy, was shot deadin the presence of his daughter Norah, because he had taken a farmwhich his brother had left, the latter declining to pay rent, althoughthe landlord offered a reduction of 66 per cent. ; when MargaretMacmahon, widow, and her little children were three times fired atbecause the poor woman had earned a few pence by supplying turf to thepolice; when Patrick Quirke, aged seventy-five, was murdered fortaking a farm which somebody else wanted; when the wife of JohnCollins was indecently assaulted while her husband was being brutallybeaten for caretaking; when John Curtin (another John Curtin), aschool-master, was shot, and his wife received forty-two slugs in herface, neck, and breast for something they had not done, the schoolalso being fired into, and all children attending it boycotted; whenJohn Connor's wife was shot in the head by moonlighters who wished tovex the husband; when Cornelius Murphy was shot dead while sitting athis "ain fireside" chatting with his wife and children; when DanielO'Brien, aged seventy-five, talking with his wife, aged seventy, wasmurdered by a shot; when Patrick Quigley had the roof of his skullblown away for taking some grazing; when David Barry was shot in themain street of Castleisland; when Patrick Taugney was murdered in thepresence of his wife and daughters; when Edmund Allen was shot deadbecause of a right-of-way dispute--he was a Protestant; when youngCashman, aged twenty, was beaten to death for speaking to a policeman;when poor Spillane was murdered for acting as a caretaker; whenPatrick Curtin, John Rahen, and a farmer named Tonery were murdered;when James Spence, aged sixty-five, was beaten to death; when Blake, Ruane, Linton, Burke, Wallace, Dempsey, Timothy Sullivan, John Moylan, James Sheridan, and Constable Cox were shot dead; when James Miller, Michael Ball, Peter Greany, and Bridget McCullagh were murdered--thelast a poor widow, who was beaten to death with a spade; when RyanFoley was brutally murdered; when Michael Baylan was murdered; whenViscount Mountmorres was murdered, and the dead body left on the road, the neighbouring farmers being afraid to give the poor corpse theshelter of a barn; when a car-driver named John Downey was killed by abullet intended for Mr. Hutchins, J. P. ; when young Wheeler, of Oolagh, whence I dated a letter, was shot dead, to punish his father, who wasan agent--when all these murders took place, every one of them, and asmany more, the work of the Land League, which also was responsible formore outrages, filthy indecencies, and gross brutalities than theentire _Gazette_ would hold, and which would in many cases be unfitfor publication--then were the clergy SILENT. No denunciations fromthe altar; no influence exerted in the parish. In many cases a directencouragement to persevere in the good path. When John Curtin'sdaughters attended church after their father's murder they wereattacked by a hostile crowd. The police were compelled to charge theinfuriated mob. Otherwise the pious Papists would in all probabilityhave consummated the good work by murdering the remainder of thefamily, after having, in the presence of daughters who nobly foughtthe murderers, assassinated the father. What did the good priest, Father O'Connor, say to all this; howexpress his deep sense of this abject cowardice, this atrocioussavagery, this unheard-of-sacrilege? He "took no notice of the occurrence"--good, easy man. But I amforgetting something. Mr. Curtin was killed by a gang of moonlighters, who knocked him up, and, presenting loaded rifles at the children, asked for the father's arms. Before the terrified boys and girls couldcomply the father appeared and shot a moonlighter dead in his tracks. The rest fled precipitately, but unhappily Curtin gave chase and waskilled. Good Father O'Connor attended the funeral of the moonlighter, who did not belong to his parish, and refused to attend that of Mr. Curtin, who did! The Catholic Bishops of Ireland stood by and looked on all thiswithout a word of censure. Silence gives consent. Had they fulminatedagainst outrage and secret wholesale murder of poor working men, fornearly all those I have cited were of this class; had they used theirimmense influence to stem the murderous instincts of ruffians who inmany cases took advantage of the prevailing disregard for human lifeto wreak their private revenge on their neighbours, satisfied that noman dare testify, and that the clergy would aid them to frustrate thelaw--had the Bishops done this, even the dull and sluggish brain ofthe brutal Saxon could have understood their action. They uttered nosingle word of condemnation. An eminent Catholic, a cleverprofessional man, who reveres the faith in which he was bred, butholds its priesthood in lowest contempt, said to me:--"You cannot finda word of condemnation uttered by any Bishop during the whole periodwhen brutal murders were of daily occurrence. I give you your best. Iwould stake anything on my statement. I have challenged people overand over again, but nobody has ever been able to produce a syllable ofcensure, of warning, of reprobation. The Bishops were strangelyunanimous in their silence. " But when the Irish Masons try to provide for the orphans of theirbrethren the Archbishop's back is up at once; for Masons have secretswhich they may not tell even to priests; and therefore Dr. Walshdeclares that whosoever gives sixpence to this cause of charity, orassociates with its promoters, shall be cast into hell, there to abidein torture everlastingly--unless previously whitewashed by himself inperson. And as I have clearly shown, the influence of Archbishop Walshand his kind is at this moment supremely powerful in matters affectingthe prestige and integrity of England and her people. Wherefore I donot wonder at the saying of an earnest Irishman of famous name, abaronet of long descent, whom I saw yesterday-- "When I see how the thing is being worked, and when, as a Catholic, Irecognise the progress and character of the Church policy, and when Isee England walking so stupidly into the trap, I don't know what todo--whether to swear, or to go out and be sick. " Moycullen (Connemara), May 23rd. No. 26. --THE CONNEMARA RAILWAY. Mr. Balfour's railway from Galway to Clifden will be exactly fiftymiles long, and will run through Crooniffe, Moycullen, Ross, Oughterard, and the wildest and most desolate parts of Connemara. Theline has been in contemplation for thirty years at least, but thestrong suit of its Irish projectors was talking, not doing, and theproject might have remained under discussion until the crack of doombut for Mr. Balfour's energy and administrative power. The Irishpatriots had no money, or they would not invest any. The Galwayauthorities would not authorise a county rate. Anybody who chose mightmake the line, but the local "powers that be" refused to spend asingle penny on an enterprise which would for years provide employmentfor the starving people of Connemara, and would afterwards prove ofincalculable benefit to the whole West of Ireland by opening up anattractive, an immense, an almost inaccessible tourist district, besides affording facilities of transit for agricultural stock andgeneral market produce, and powerfully aiding the rapidly-developingfish trade of the western sea-board. Not a bit of it. The WesternIrish are always standing about waiting for something. They talkedabout the line for a generation or two, but they cut no sod of turf. They harangued meetings convened to hear the prospective blessings ofthe line, but they declined to put any money on their opinions. Thestarving peasants of Connemara might have turned cannibals and eateneach other before Irishmen had commenced the railway. The people ofthe congested districts were unable to live on the sympathy of theirfellow-countrymen, and nothing else was offered to them. TheConnemarans have an occasional weakness for food. They like a squarefeed now and again. Their instincts are somewhat material. They thinkthat Pity without Relief is like Mustard without Beef. They likeSentiment--with something substantial at the back of it. Theirpatriot-brethren, those warm-hearted, dashing, off-hand, devil-may-care heroes of whom we read in Charles Lever, sometimesvisited the district, to rouse the people against the brutal Saxon, but they did no more than this. Sometimes, I say, not often, did thepatriots patrol Connemara. There were two reasons for this. First, theIrish patriots do not speak their native language; and the Connemaransare not at home with English. Secondly, and principally, theConnemarans had nothing to give away. They cannot pay for first-classpatriotism like that of Davitt, Dillon, O'Brien, and Tim Healy, wholatterly have never performed out of London. And so the Galway folks went on with their railway discussions, andthe poor Connemarans went on with their starving. Suddenly Mr. Balfourtook the thing up, and the turf began to fly. The Midland and WesternRailway Company, in consideration of a grant of £264, 000, agreed tomake the line, and to afterwards run it, whether it paid or not. Thecontractors were not allowed to import unskilled labour. TheConnemarans were to make the line whether they knew the work or not. They had never seen navvy labour. They knew nothing outside themanagement of small farms. They had never done regular work. Theirusual form is to plant their bit of ground and then to sit down tillthe crops come up, on which they live till next season. A failure ofcrops means starvation. This was their normal condition. They enjoyedwhat Mr. Gladstone would call a "chronic plethora" of hunger. Theliverish tourist who adventured himself into these barbarous regionsin hopeless quest of appetite for his breakfast, would see theConnemarans in hopeless quest of breakfast for their appetites. Theregion is healthy enough. As Justice Shallow would say, "Beggars all, beggars all. Marry, good air. " The first thing you see is a twenty-thousand-pound bridge across theCorrib, not very far from the salmon weir, where are more fish thanyou can count splashing up the salmon stairs, which are arranged tosave the salmon the effort of a long jump. Then the line running alongthe Corrib Valley on a high embankment, past the ruins of what wasfirst a convent, then a whiskey distillery, now a timekeeper's office. An entire field is being dug up and carted away, the soil beingexcavated to a depth of eight or ten feet, over an area of severalacres required for sidings and railway buildings. A strolling Galwayman of Home Rule tendencies imparts information. He is eminentlydiscontented, and thinks the way in which the work is conductedanother injustice to Ireland. "The people are working and gettingwages, but what wages! Thirteen and sixpence a week! Would Englishnavvies work for that? You are getting the labour at starvationprices, and even then you bully the men. They work in gangs, each witha ganger swearing at them in the most offensive and outrageous way. See that gang over there. You can hear the ganger shouting andswearing even at this distance. The poor men are treated like dogs, and even then they can hardly keep body and soul together. They haveto come miles and miles to the work, and some live so far away thatthey can only return home once a week. So they have to camp out inhovels. You are going down the line? Then you will be shocked at theslave-driving you'll see. It reminds me of Legree in 'Uncle Tom'sCabin. ' I am surprised that the men do not drop dead over the work. Not a moment's rest or relaxation. Work, work, work from morning tonight, for next to nothing. It ought not to be allowed in a civilisedcountry. And on the top of all this slavery we are expected to be verymuch obliged for the opportunity of working at all. You chuck us acrust just as you would chuck a bone to a dog, and then you want us togo down on our knees and pour blessings on Balfour's head. We're tiredof such stuff; but, thank God, we shall soon have things in our ownhands. All these men are small farmers, or small farmers' sons. Theycan't get a living out of the land, and they are obliged to come tothis. Bullied and driven from week's end to week's end, they are thevery picture of starvation. A shame and disgrace to the EnglishGovernment. " I may as well say at once that all this proved to be untrue. No doubtthe Galway Home Rulers invent and circulate these falsehoods todiscount the effect of the good work of a Conservative Government, andit is, therefore, well that the facts should be placed on record. Ipushed on to a cutting where fifty men were busily engaged in loadingearth into trucks, having first dug it from a great bank of gravellysoil. An Irish ganger walked to and fro along the top, keeping his eyeon the men, and occasionally shouting in an excited tone. But he wasnot swearing at, or otherwise abusing, the men, who were as fine acompany of peasants as you could see anywhere, well-built, well-grown, and muscular. Not a trace of starvation, but, on the contrary, awell-fed, well-nourished look. The ganger, Sullivan, seemedgood-tempered enough, only shouting to let off his superfluousvitality. He used no bad language. "Cheer up, my lads, " he cried. "Inwid the dirt. Look alive, look alive, look alive. Whirroo! Shove itup, my lads, shove it up. Away ye go. Look out for that fall of earth. There she goes. Whirroo!" English navvies would have preferredsilence, would have requested him to hold his condemned jaw, wouldhave spent some breath in applying an explosive mining term to hiseyes, but these Irish labourers seemed to understand their superiorofficer, and to cheerfully accept the situation. Mr. Sullivan wascivil and good-humoured. "These are a picked lot. Splendid set offellows, and good workers. No, they do not walk for miles before theyreach their work. The engine runs along the line to pick them up inthe morning, and to drop them again in the evening. They havehalf-an-hour for dinner, and half-an-hour for tea. They get aboutfifteen shillings a week. Boys get less, but thirteen shillings andsixpence is the very bottom. Rubbish about low wages. Nine bob a weekis the regular farmer's wage, and these men would have been glad towork for six bob. All have some land, every man of them. They havejust come back from planting it. We have been very short of men. Theywent away at the beginning of April, and they were away for afortnight or three weeks. Small blame to them. Half or three-quartersof them went to look after their bits of ground. But, barrin' that, they turn up very regularly. They get fifteen shillings a week, wherethey got nothing. And every man knows the convenience the line will beto him to get his bit of stuff to Galway market, and also that it willbring money into a country where there was none. They are as contentedas can be, and we never hear a word of complaint. We have not heard agrumble since the line was started a year or two ago. These HomeRulers will say anything but their prayers, and them they whistle. Since the work came from the Tories it must be bad. There must be acurse on it. Now, my lads, shove it up, shove it up! (Excuse me, Sir. )Whirroo, my boys. Look out! In wid it, thin! Whirroo!" A big tank for engine water was being filled by an old man in shirtand trousers, his naked chest shining a hundred yards away. LukeWhelan was his name; a vigorous pumper, he. "'Tis hard work it is, yemay say it. I have another tank or two to fill, an' keep filled, but Ihave long rests, and time for a grain o' baccy, glory be to God!Thirteen-an'-sixpence it is, but I lost my place at Palmer's flourmills, the work gave out, an' but for this I'd have nothin' at all. Was in the Fifth Fusiliers, but lost me sight (partly) in Injee. Wasin the army long enough to get a pension of ninepence a day. Me rintis two pounds a year, and I've only the owld woman to kape. Ah, butBalfour was a blessin' to us altogether! They talk about Home Rule, but what good will that do us? Can we ate it, can we dhrink it, can weshmoke it? The small farmers thinks they'll have the land for nothin', but what about the labourers? Everything that's done is done for thefarmers, an' the workin' men gets nothin' at all. In England 'tis theworkin' men gets all the consideration; but in this counthry 'tis thefarmers, an' the workin' men that have no land may hang themselves. When the big farms is all done away who'll employ the labourers? Thegintry that spint money an' made things a bit better is all driven outof the counthry by the Land League. Ye see all around ye the chimneysof places that once was bits of manufactories. All tumblin' down, alltumblin' down. Nobody dares invest money for fear he'd be robbed ofhis property, the same as the landlords was robbed, an' will berobbed, till the end of the chapther. 'Tis nothin' but robbery ye hearof, an' gettin' other people's property for nothin'. The Home RuleBill would dhrive all the workin' men out of the counthry to Englandand America. They must have employment, an' they must go where it isto be had. Engineers have been threatenin' this line for forty years, first one route an' then another, but divil a spade was put in it. England found us the money to build the line, an' the labourers getwork. Where will we get work whin nobody would lend us money to buildlines? An Irish Parlimint wouldn't build a line in a thousand years. For nobody would thrust thim wid the cash. Yes, wid ninepence a dayand thirteen shillings and sixpence a week, I'm comfortable enough. But begorra, the pump leaks, an' I have to pump a quarther more than Ishould. Av the pump worked right 'tis little grumblin' ye'd hear fromLuke Whelan. " Mr. George William Wood, contractors' agent, said:--"The men work aswell as they can, but they do not get over the ground like Englishnavvies. They are very regular, very quiet, very sober, and never givethe least trouble. Of course, they had to be taught, and they did notlike the big navvy shovels. They were used to the six-foot spades withno cross-bar. Yes, you might think it harder work with such tools, butthen the Irish labourer dislikes to bend his back. The long handlelets him keep his back straight, there's the difference. However, weinsist on the big, short shovels, and they have taken to them allright. These men are not so strong as they seem, and they are notworth nearly so much as English navvies. They may be willing, but theyhave not the same stamina. The English navvy eats about two pounds ofbeef for his dinner and washes it down with about two quarts of ale. These men never see meat from one year's end to another. They live onpotatoes, and bits of dry bread and water. At three in the afternoonthey are not worth much, clean pumped out--might almost as well gohome. No, they don't live in hovels. Those who go home but once aweek are housed in good wooden sheds, or corrugated iron buildings, with good beds and bedclothes. There are about forty of them in a hut, with a hut-keeper to look after them and to keep order. For thisexcellent lodging they are charged sixpence a week, and all their progis supplied at wholesale prices. We buy largely in Dublin, bring itdown, of course, carriage free, and both the men and their wives andfamilies are supplied to any amount. They effect a saving of at leasttwenty per cent. , but probably much more, as village stores areterribly dear. The whole district has found out this advantage, andthey flock to the hut-store from all parts. So Balfour is a boon tothe country at large. " Next day I went down sixteen miles of line to a spot about a mile fromOughterard. It was pay-day, and I clung to the engine along with theengineer, Mr. Wood, and a pay-clerk, armed with several yards ofpay-sheet, and a couple of black tin cash-boxes. A wild and stonycountry, a range of high mountains on the left, wide, flat plains onthe right, through which the Corrib serpentined, with big rocks risingfrom the channel brilliantly white. "They whitewash the rocks, so thatthey can be seen by the boats and the Cong steamer. Englishmen wouldblow them up and have done with them, but Irishmen prefer to whitewashthem and sail round them. More exciting I suppose, matter of taste. "This from the engineer, a Saxon of the usual type. On through bogs, past nameless lakes, and a chaos of limestone rocks and huge graniteboulders, lakes, bogs, rocks, in endless succession, with the longmountain reek beside us, and a still higher range in the purpledistance. Now and then a green patch sternly walled in, a few cowsgrazing, a lonely donkey, a few long-tailed black sheep, or a coupleof goats. Here and there acres of white blossom, looking like asnowfall. This was the bog bean, growing on a stem a foot high, asilvery tuft of silky bloom hanging downward, two inches long and thebigness of a finger. Sometimes we dashed past walled enclosures sofull of stone that they looked like abandoned graveyards, and the onlyuse of the fences, so far as I could see, was to keep thoughtlesscattle out. Very little tillage. Just a few ridges of potatoes, butthe people who had planted them seemed to have vanished for ever. Atlong intervals a diminutive white cot, but nothing else to break thesuccession of lake, rock, and bog. Moycullen, six miles from Galway, is to have a station; another will be built at Ross, ten miles, athird at Oughterard, sixteen and a half miles. Not a stone laid asyet. At Ross a great excavation. The men had just laid bare a hugeboulder of granite, weighing some thirty tons, and Mr. Wood, observingmy interest in this relic of the ice-age, gave it to me on the spot. "No granite _in situ_ hereabouts, the living rock is mountainlimestone, but no end of granite boulders, which are blasted to thetune of half-a-ton of tonite per week. " Ten miles from Galway acutting was being regularly quarried for building purposes, and mostof the sixteen or seventeen miles of line I saw was fenced with aGalway wall of uncemented stone four feet six inches high andeighteen inches thick. "The men build stone walls with great skill, "said Mr. Wood, "but half the number of English navvies would do moreexcavating. " The pay-clerk stopped the engine at every gang, and the men cameforward for their money. All had the same well-nourished sturdy look, and all seemed well satisfied with their wages. They conversed inIrish, but they mostly understood English, even if they could notspeak it themselves. Whole villages were there seemingly of the samename, and strange were the distinctive appellations. There was JohnToole and John Toole Pat, John Pat Toole and Pat Toole John. Permutation was the order of the day. There was Tom Joyce Pat and PatTom Joyce, Tom Joyce Sally and Tom Joyce boy. Besides this changeringing a little colour was thrown in, and we had Pat Tom Joyce Redand Pat Tom Joyce Black, Red Pat Tom Joyce and Black Tom Joyce Pat. This is called Joyce's country, before Balfour's time depopulating todesolation, now thriving and filling up, re-Joyceing in fact. Nearlyseventeen hundred men are at work here and at the other end, and in1894 the great civiliser will steam from Galway to Clifden, inaugurating (let us hope) a new era of prosperity. In Oughterard I met an American tourist who said, "I should think HomeRule would about settle Old England. The Irish people show a mostunfriendly spirit, and I have come to the conclusion that there is nosuch word as gratitude in the Irish language. There is some change inthis district, and the people seem willing to work, but wherever theagitators have been everything is going to the bad. Nothing butdistrust and suspicion. No Irishman would invest in Irish securities. They prefer South Americans! That startled me. I am told that TimHealy is worth £30, 000, all got out of Home Rule, and my informantsays that Tim would not risk a penny in his own country. Tim is ablackguardly kind of politician, but he is mighty cute, and shirksIrish securities. Where are the business managers of the Irish nationcoming from? That's what I want to know. " I told him of the Galway Harbour Commissioners, who, having beenforgiven a Government debt of nearly £10, 000, conceived the idea ofbuilding a new, grand, splindid, iligant, deep dock, which shouldincrease the trade of the place by allowing ships of great draught tounload in the harbour. Let me repeat the story for the readers of the_Gazette_. The Harbour Board consulted an eminent engineer, who said the rightthing would cost £80, 000. They sent him to the right about, and calledin another man. "Now, " said they, "we can only raise £30, 000 by loansfrom the Board of Works. Will not that suffice? We give you 5 percent. On the outlay, &c. , &c. , &c. " The new man said £30, 000 wasample, took the job, and the work was commenced. Ultimately theyborrowed £40, 000, which they spent, along with the £10, 000 in hand. Then it was found that big ships could not get to the dock at all! Nouse in a deep dock unless you can swim up to it. To get the bigvessels in you required to hoist them out of the water, carry them afew hundred yards, and drop them into the dock. As the Galway menstill groan beneath the cruel English yoke, this operation was foundimpracticable. During some blasting operations a big rock was tumbledout of the dock in process of manufacture, dropping in front ofanother dock in full working order. The stone was just in the way ofthe vessels, but as there was no Parliament in College Green, theHarbour Board had not the heart to fish it up. So it crashed throughthe bottom of a Henderson collier, the owner of which sued the HarbourBoard for damages, and was awarded a thousand pounds. The money neverwas paid, and never will be. The fortunate winner of the suit willsell his claim for £5 in English gold. He was thought to have donewell in winning, and my informant, a typical Irishman, admired thecomplainant's successful attack on the Harbour Board. "But what goodcome of it at last, " I ventured to put in. "Nay, that I cannot tell, "said he, "But 'twas a glorious victory. " The Galway Harbour Board spent £50, 000 or so on a deep dock which theyhave not got, and the harbour is in pawn to the Board of Works, whichcollects the tolls, and otherwise endeavours to indemnify itself. TheHarbour Board meets as usual, but it has no powers, no money, nocredit, no anything. This is a fair specimen of the businessmanagement which characterises the breed of Irishmen who favour HomeRule. The party paper, once a fine property, has in their hands sunkbelow zero, and they built New Tipperary on land to which they had notitle; so that the money was completely thrown away. Almost everyBoard of Guardians in the country is insolvent, except in those caseswhere the Government has kicked out the Poor Law Guardians elected bythe Parish, and restored solvency by sending down paid men to run theconcern for a couple of years. This has been done in severalinstances, and in every case the paid men, drawing salaries of severalhundred a year, have in two years paid off debts, leaving all in goodworking order, with a balance in the bank. The inference is obvious. Would the Belfast folks have made such a fiasco of a dock? WouldEnglishmen have exposed themselves to the ridicule of a story which iscuriously remindful of Robinson Crusoe and his big canoe? Would theGalway folks ever have built the railway they wanted so badly; or sansEngland and Mr. Balfour, would not the Connemara men have proceeded tostarve until the end of time? A keen old railway man who hadthravelled, and who had done railway work in California, said to me, "Whin we get an Oirish Parlimint the labourers may jist put on theirhats and go over to England. Thank God, we'll know something besidesfarm work now, the whole of us. We can get railroad work in England. There'll be none in Oireland, for every mother's son that has moneywill cut the country. I could take ye fourteen Oirish miles fromGalway, along a road that was spotted wid great jintlemen's houses, an' ivery one of thim's in ruins. The owners that used to live inthem, and be a blessin' to the counthry, is all ruined by the landagitation. All are gone, an' their foin, splindid houses tumblin'down, an' the people worse off than iver. If the Bill becomes law theyoung men will all be off to England and America. There'll be no work, no money in the counthry. Did ye hear what the cyar-dhriver said toMr. Morley?" I confessed that the incident escaped my recollection. "Why the cyar-man was a dacent boy, an Mister Morley axed him how wasthrade, an' av he was busy. " "No, " says the dhriver, "things is quite, very quite, " says he. "Ye'll be busy when ye get Home Rule, " says Mister Morley. "But that'll only last a week, " says the cyar-man. "An' why so?" says the Irish Secretary, bein' curious an' lookin'round at the dhriver. "Och, " says Pat; "'twill only take a week to dhrive thim to theboats. " "Who d'ye mane, wid yer dhrivin' to the boats?" says owld Morley. "All the dacent folks that has any money to pay for dhrivin', " saysPat, "for bedad they'll be lavin' the counthry. " "That was a thriminjus rap for owld Morley, but 'twas thrue, an' theDivil himself couldn't deny it. " "An' can ye tell me why the farmers should have all the land an' notthe labourers? An' could ye say why them murdherin' Land Leaguers inParliament wasn't hung up, the rampagious ruffians?" I could throw no light on these points. My friend had much to sayabout the Land League M. P. 's, and a score of times asked me why theyhad not been hanged. A hard question to answer, when you come to think of it. Does anybodyknow? Oughterard (Connemara), May 23rd. No. 27. --CULTIVATING IRISH INDUSTRY. The city of kings. Pronounced Athen-rye, with a bang on the lastsyllable. A squalid town, standing amid splendid ruins of a bygonetime. "Look what English rule has brought us to, " said a villagepolitician, waving his hand from the ivy-covered gateway by which youenter the town to the mean-looking houses around. "That's what wecould build when we were left to ourselves, an' this is what we can doafther sivin hundhred years of the Saxon. " The ruins in question arethe remains of fortifications erected after the Norman Conquest ofIreland by the Normans, a great entrance gate, and a strong, oblongkeep. The ruins of the Dominican Friary, founded in 1241 by Meyler, ofBirmingham, have a thrilling interest of their own, which has itspendant in the story of a Mayence verger, who holds British visitorsto the cathedral of that city in breathless rapture as he tells how itis said that a Mayence bishop of eight hundred years ago was said tobe of English extraction, or like the Stratford mulberry tree, whichis said to be a cutting of a tree said to have grown on the spot wherea tree is said to have stood which is said to have been planted byShakespeare. Galway abounds in ruined fortalices, tumble-down abbeys, ivied towers and castles, none of which were built by the Irish race. The round towers which dot the country here and there, with a fewruined churches, are all that the native Irish can claim in the way ofarchitecture. The people here are full of interest. The fair at Athenry is somethingto remember. A very good time it was, cattle selling higher than ofyore. The men were queerly, quaintly dressed, speaking Irish, gettingextremely drunk on vilest whiskey, leaving the town in twos andthrees, tumbling in groups by the roadside, reeking heaps of imbrutedhumanity. The women were numerous, tall, decent, and modest. All worethe shawl as a hood, the shawls of strange pattern unknown in England. All tucked up the dress nearly to the waist, showing the invariablered kirtle. All, or nearly all, were shod with serviceable shoes, suchas would astonish the Parisian makers of bottines. But these shoeswere only for show. The ladies walked painfully about in theunaccustomed leather. They seemed to have innumerable corns, towrestle with bunions huge and dire, to suffer from unknown pedalinfirmities. Outside the town the ladies put on their shoes. Outsidethe town, after the fair, they took them off again, sitting on theroadside, stripping their shapely feet, bundling the obnoxious, crippling abominations into Isabella-colour handkerchiefs, which theytucked under their arms as they bounded away like deer. It waspleasant to watch their joy, their freedom, their long springy step astheir feet once more struck their native heath. They do not sparetheir shoes by reason of economy, but because they walk better withoutthem. Donned for propriety, doffed for convenience. The young lady whois "on the market" is expected to wear leather on high days andholidays, and she submits--another martyr to fashion. Yet even as thehart panteth for the water-brooks, so longeth her sole after hernative turf. It was at Athenry that I first obtained a precise legal definition ofthe term Congested District, to the effect that wherever the landvaluation amounts to less than 30s. Per head of the population thedistrict is held to be congested, and may receive assistance under theAct of 1891. The chief item of the Board's income is the sum of£41, 250 a year, being interest at 2-3/4 per cent. Per annum on the sumof £1, 500, 000 referred to in the Act as the Church Surplus Grant. TheBoard may, under certain conditions, use the principal, if needful. Two other smaller sums are also available, and the unexpended balanceof the Irish Distress Fund has been applied to the completion of theBealdangan Causeway in Connemara. This was Mr. Balfour's suggestion. There is a widespread idea that only the sea-board is touched, andthat only fishermen have reaped the benefit of the Act. This isentirely erroneous. The Board works unceasingly at the development ofagriculture, the planting of trees, the breeding of live stock andpoultry, the sale of seed potatoes and seed oats, the amalgamation ofsmall holdings, migration, emigration, weaving and spinning, and anyother suitable industries, as well as in aid of fishing and fishermen. Besides the innumerable direct and indirect methods by whichagriculture and industries are assisted in production, the Board haslaboured successfully in the establishment of such means ofcommunication, by railway, steamship, or otherwise, as will enablegoods to be imported and exported at rates sufficiently low to maketrade possible and profitable to producers and consumers in remotecongested districts. Another popular error arises from regarding thework of the Board as merely a means of relief during periods ofexceptional distress. Mr. Balfour would be the first to deprecate thisnotion. His scheme was constructed with a view to bringing about agradual and lasting improvement in the poor districts of Ireland, byputting the people in a way to help themselves, and not by doling outlarge sums in charity. The works, which are wrongly called "reliefworks, " are in every instance a well-considered effort to permanentlyand materially improve the trade and resources of a given area inconnection with agriculture and miscellaneous industries. Such was theinvariable principle of every action of the Board while under Mr. Balfour's administration. The people have been taught better methods, and helped to carry out the instruction they had received. The RoyalDublin Society has in some instances employed an instructor, whoseduty it has been to teach the people the best system of cultivatingportions or plots of their holdings, and to encourage them by gifts ofseed and by giving prizes to those who were most successful incarrying out the instructions of their teacher. It is conceded that byproper management, by the adoption of modern methods of farming suchas are well within the grasp of the smallest landowner, the produce ofIrish farms might be increased from one-third to one-half. Considerthe effect of this unassailable proposition on the eternal question ofrent. The question can hardly be over-estimated. Compare the solidity, the practicability, the substantial usefulness of this kind of help, with the weak pandering to sentiment displayed by the presentgovernment. The Board admits that no matter how vigorously andconstantly agricultural improvements are inculcated, the tenants ofIreland are tardy in their adoption. The small farmers dislike change, and at the present moment they are rapidly slipping back into theirold grooves. They believe that the old system will pay when they haveno rent-days to meet. The Balfour Administration encouraged honesty, industry, self-reliance. The Morley Government puts a premium onidleness, unthrift, retrogression, and dishonesty. It is easier tohalf-till the land, paying small rents or none at all, than to get theutmost out of the land with the object of paying the landlord hisdue. The Board is carrying on the afforestation of Ireland, which in manyparts is almost without trees. When the potato crop failed in 1890 Mr. Balfour commenced to plant trees on the western sea-board. In 1891 asum of £1, 970 was spent in draining, fencing, and roadmaking, and inplanting 90 acres of 960 acquired by the Tory Government for thepurpose. In 1892 a further sum of £1, 427 was spent in carrying on thework. It is said that a previous Liberal Government had rejected thescheme on the ground that trees would not grow in a situation exposedto the salt gales of the Atlantic, but Mr. Balfour's trees havethriven remarkably well. He tried all sorts, convinced that somethingshould be done, and that an ounce of experiment was worth a pound oftheory. Sycamore, ash, elm, beech, birch, poplar, alder, larch, Scotchfir, spruce, silver fir, sea buckthorn, elder, and willow--he gavethem all a chance, some as main plantations, some as shelter belts. All proved successful except the silver fir. Besides this, threehundred and fifty holdings have been planted with shelter belts, andabout six hundred and fifty more were being planted when Mr. Balfourloosed the reins. An eminent Irishman, a great authority on this subject, assures methat he could dictate similar facts for a week without stopping tosearch his memory. Mr. Gladstone proposes to place the poor people ofIreland under a Government utterly inexperienced in the administrationof great matters, utterly unreliable where the handling of money isconcerned, utterly ignorant of business methods and business routine. The fate of the destitute poor and the fortunes of the well-to-doclasses are to be at the mercy of men whose business ventures havebeen absurdly unsuccessful, who believe that to aid the poor you mustrob the rich, and that the No-rent Manifesto, the Plan of Campaign, and the Land League, with its story of outrage and murder, were theperfection of modern statesmanship. The Balfour system teaches men tohelp themselves. The Morley system teaches men to help themselves totheir neighbour's goods. My friend gave a few more instances of useful assistance rendered bywhat the poor folks call the Blessed Board. Special arrangements havebeen made to enable the farmers to improve the breed of horses. TheQueen presented an Arabian horse named Tirassan to the County Donegal. Bulls of superior breed have been sold to decent, honest farmers atone-third of their cost, and this small figure was payable in twoyearly instalments. About two hundred black-faced Scotch rams andCheviot rams have been located in Donegal and Galway free of charge, and young boars of the pure Yorkshire breed are sold to certainselected farmers at a nominal charge on certain conditions calculatedto prove useful to the neighbourhood. The breeding and rearing ofpoultry has received a world of attention, and the poor folks who makea little money by the sale of eggs have been supplied with the bestinformation and substantial assistance. In a former letter I described the Aran sea-fisheries, and before thatI adverted to the fact that the Shetland fishermen came to the IrishCoast, caught ling, and brought it back salted to sell to Irishfishermen. The Board has engaged an experienced fish-curer from Norwayto show Irishmen how the thing is done, and English and Scotchfish-curers have been sent to several stations to give instruction inmackerel and herring-curing. Fifteen fish-curing stations are now infull swing, and the poor Irish fishermen, instead of buying salt lingat 2d. A pound, are now selling it at £18 to £20 per ton. A bigsteamer has been chartered to carry the salt, the fish, and for otheruseful purposes. Contrast this work and these results with the work of the Irishagitators and with that of Messrs. Gladstone, Morley, and Co. Sentiment and starvation versus salt fish and satiety. A red-facedYorkshireman who knows all about fish-curing, said:--"When first Icame here I'm blest if the men wasn't transparent. You could seethrough 'em like lookin' through the rungs of a ladder. Now thebeggars are growin' double chins. Now they're a-gettin' cheeky. They're like a hoss as has had a feed of corn. They was meek an' mildenough when I come over. Now they're a-gettin' perky, an' a-talkin'politics. They usen't to see no agitators. They never had no meetin's;why? there was no chance of a collection. Sometimes I gets down on 'emproper. 'Tother day I says, 'You chaps, wi' yer Home Rule, I says, reminds me of a character in the Bible, I says. ' Bein' Catholics, theydon't read the Bible for theirselves. The priests read it for 'em. Butone of 'em cocks up his nose, an' he says, 'We're like a character inthe Bible, are we? Well, ' he says, 'who was he?' "'You're like the wild ass that sniffed up the wind instead of goin'in for sommat more substantial, ' I says. That's what I told 'em. Theydid look down their noses, I tell you. An' they fell to talkin' i'Irish. They couldn't answer me, do what they would. " Before leaving the Connemara district I paid a second visit toOughterard in order that I might see the progress made by Irishmen inthe art of railway making. A gang or two were engaged in thecomparatively skilled work of rail-laying, and the way they got overthe ground was truly surprising. Two trucks stood on the line alreadylaid, one bearing sleepers, the other loaded with steel rails. Four orfive couples of men shouldered sleepers and laid them on the track atspots marked by a club-footed Irishman, who swore at everything with avigour which spoke well for his wind. Several men lifted a thirty feetlength of rail, weighing nearly six hundred-weight, and laid it on thesleepers, when it was instantly bolted and secured. The same havingbeen done on the other side, the trucks were pushed along thenewly-laid ten yards, and the process was repeated, the Irish gangerabove-mentioned swearing till the surrounding bogs seemed to quake. Anunhappy Connemaran having dropped his end of the sleeper a few inchesfrom the right spot, was cursed through the entire dictionary, theganger winding up a solemn declaration that he had not seen anythingso Blankly and Double-Blankly and forty times Blankly idiotic since"the owld goat died. " An English ganger hard by never spoke at all, but no doubt his men felt lonely. A labourer who had hurt his foot, and was awaiting a friendly truck to take him home, said of theswearer:-- "He manes no harm, an' the Boys doesn't care a rap for his swearin'. These men want no elbowin' on, for they are paid by the piece, so thatthe harder they work the more they get. All Irish gangers swear likethat. An' Irish farm bailiffs is jist the same. Onless they're cussin'an' rippin' an' tearin' they don't think they're doin' the work forwhich they're paid, an' they don't think their masthers would becontint wid thim. Av an Irish landlord that kept a bailiff didn't hearhim swearin' three miles away, he'd discharge him for not workin'. English gangers an' bailiffs says very little, an' ye wouldn't thinkthey wor doin' anythin'. 'Tis quare at first, but ye get used to it intime. " Travelling in any country is always instructive, no matter how muchabout that country you previously knew. My lame friend may haveunconsciously suggested an explanation of the speeches and conduct ofthe Irish Nationalist Parliamentary contingent. Unless they kept upthe cursin' an' swearin', an' rippin' an' tearin', so that they can beheard across the Atlantic, their American paymasters might not becontint wid thim, and might withhold the sinews of war. Once it isunderstood that the Irish patriots must revile all and sundry to earntheir pay, the situation is to some extent explained. Few of them arelikely to fail in this supreme requirement. Six pounds a week forabusing the brutal Saxon is far better than the pound or thirtyshillings of their pre-political days. They have no inducement to earnan honest living. The story of the Galway Bag Factory may serve as a pendant to thestory of Mr. McMaster's effort to benefit the Catholic peasantry ofthe counties of Galway and Donegal. The concern had stopped for lackof funds, and Father Peter Dooley went round the town endeavouring toinduce people to take shares in the concern, in order that the poorfolks of the district might have employment. The mills were reopened, and at first, just at first, the people attended work with tolerableregularity. They then fell off, coming for half a day, coming not atall. The management actually instituted prizes for regularity ofattendance. The people, who professed to be dying for employment, hadto be bribed to come to work. Even this was ineffectual, and as acertain number of people were required to work a loom, the absence ofone or two made the loom and the other workpeople idle, and as, inorder to pay expenses, every loom required to be constantly worked, this skulking was not only annoying, but also a ruinous loss. Mr. Miller, the manager, was compelled to get people over from Scotland, after having long placarded the walls of Galway with notices ofvacancies which no Galway girls attempted to fill up. Father Peterremonstrated, and pointed out that as he had been instrumental inreopening the factory, he thought Mr. Miller should oblige him byengaging Galway girls. The manager showed him the placards, and saidthat if Father Peter would bring the people he would find thememployment. Father Peter Dooley went into the highways and hedges, butnot a soul could he bring in, although Mr. Miller seems to have beenso desperately beset that he would have jumped at the blind, themaimed, the halt, and the lame. The good Father was beaten, but thenhe had a reason--an excellent reason. When things go wrong in Ireland, it is always some other fellow's fault, just as when the French arebeaten in battle they always scream _Nous sommes trahis_! Badcharacters had been admitted to the looms. Manager was surprised. LetFather Peter point them out, and away they go--if Father Peter did nothesitate to cast them again on the streets of Galway. Two girls weredismissed. Some of the old workpeople returned to work intermittently, as before. Father Peter wanted the two girls reinstated. The managerdeclined to see-saw in this way, and sacrilegious Scotsman as he was, dared to say that nothing went well when bossed by priests! From thatmoment that manager was blighted. His sight grew dim, his hearingbecame dull, his liver got out of order, his corns grew more numerousand more painful, and a bald spot was seen on his crown. The peopleworked as before, by fits and starts, but more fitty and starty thanever. The factory was closed, and the manager died. They buried himabout a week ago, a sort of human jackdaw of Rheims without the cursetaken off. Protestants say the Galway workpeople wore him down, brokehis spirit and broke his heart, but Catholics know better. The onlywonder was that instead of being instantly consumed by fire fromheaven, Miller was permitted to waste away by slow degrees. But thatwas Father Dooley's good nature. The Galwegians say that a Belfast firm has taken the mill, and thattherefore its future success is assured. The cutest citizens say thatthis entirely depends on the manager's theory as to workpeople. If hebrings them with him, well and good. The work will be done althoughthe workpeople may be boycotted. And then the Irish will have anothergrievance. They will be able to point to the fact that of a largenumber of workpeople only a small proportion of Catholics areemployed. This is the trick of Nationalists when speaking of theintolerance of Belfast. The officials of that city, and indeed, ofevery city in Ireland, are mostly Protestants, not because of this, but because they are better men. The Belfast merchants and the BelfastCorporation have a keen eye to the main chance, as is abundantlyproved by their success, and in business matters they will have thebest men, whether Protestants, Catholics, Jews, Turks, or Infidels. Whatever the cause, it is certain that Protestantism turns out a farlarger proportion of able men, and in Ulster, at any rate, you rarelymeet a Catholic who is worth his salt. The Catholics of Ulster lack, not toleration, but brains, industry, and business capacity. Anyonewho compares the harbours of Cork and Galway with Belfast will at onceappreciate the situation. Wherefore let not the Keltic Irish wastetheir time in clamouring for the redress of non-existent grievances, but buckle to and make their own prosperity. The destinies of nations, like those of individuals, are in their own hands. Honest work isnever wasted work. Selah. Athenry, May 27th. No. 28. --COULD WE RECONQUER IRELAND? The country people call this place "the back of God-speed, " "the backof the world, " and "the divil's own hunting ground, " but why they doit nobody seems to know. The village is on the road to nowhere, and Idropped on it, as it were, accidentally, during a long drive to theremotest end of Galway Bay. Yet even here I found civilised people whoregard the proposed College Green Parliament with undisguisedaversion. Not the inhabitants, but Irish tourists, bent on exploringthe wildest and remotest nooks of their native land, among them aDublin barrister, whose critical analysis of the powers proposed to beentrusted to the unscrupulous and self-seeking promoters of the LandLeague may prove useful and interesting to non-legal English readers. A Galway gentleman having during the drive pointed out a large numberof desolate mansions rapidly falling into ruin, the conversationturned on the universal subject, and my legal friend embarked on adissertation on the iniquity of the Gladstone land laws, which havehad the effect of ruining a large number of the country gentry ofIreland, driving them from their native shores, impoverishing thelandlords without any perceptible benefit to the tenants, who appearto be no better off than ever. What surprised him most was the arrantnonsense talked by the English Gladstonians, and the blindness andapathy of the English people generally, who in his opinion were beinggradually led to the brink of a frightful abyss, which threatened toswallow up the prestige and prosperity of the British people. Hesaid:-- "Have Englishmen forgotten the previous history of the men she is nowon the point of entrusting with her future? Are Englishmenunacquainted with the traditional hatred of the Irish malcontents? Dothey not know the aspirations of the Catholic clergy, and are theyignorant of their immense influence with the masses? Surely they are, or they would rise in their might and instantly trample out thepresent agitation, which has for its aim and end, not the benefit ofIreland, not the pacification of the people, who are perfectlypeaceful if left alone, not the convenience of Ireland in matterswhich should be managed by local self-government, but the absoluteindependence of the country, the creation of a national army, and theaffiliation of Ireland with some foreign Power hostile to England, such as either America or France, as occasion might serve. America islargely in the hands of the Irish electorate, and American politicianswould not be particularly scrupulous how they purchased Irish support. No need to point out the embarrassing complications likely to resultfrom giving large powers to men who are essentially inimical toEngland. You can do justice without putting your own head on theblock. It has been my business to analyse the bill, in conjunctionwith other lawyers, Home Rule and otherwise in political colour, andwe are all agreed that the so-called safeguards amount to nothing, andit would be incomparably safer for England to throw over the countryaltogether. Because that is what it must ultimately come to, and wethink it would be better to avoid the inevitable agitation, theterrible difficulties foreshadowed by the measure, difficulties whichwould assuredly lead to the reconquest or the attempted reconquest ofthe country. "Gladstonians say this is an absurd idea, that Ireland could offer noresistance worth mentioning, that the British arms would proveinstantly victorious over any show of resistance. But would you haveIreland alone to reckon with? Once give her the prestige of a spuriousindependence, once give to your enemies control over the resources ofthe country, and you would find the task of reconquest much morearduous than you think. The fact that England's distress would beIreland's opportunity has been so often insisted upon, both byUnionists and the Nationalists themselves, that I need say nothing onthis point, which, besides, is so obvious as to be in itself asufficient answer to the Home Rule agitation under presentcircumstances. But even supposing that you had no Eastern and Europeandifficulty--and we know not from one moment to another when war maybreak out--supposing you only had Ireland to reconquer, do you thinkthis an agreeable prospect? Do you think that reconquest would settlethe Irish question? Do you believe that the shooting of a few hundredpatriots by the British Grenadiers would further what they call theUnion of Hearts? "These followers of Mr. Gladstone who say, 'Let them have Home Rule toquiet the country, to relieve the House from the endless discussion ofthe Irish Question so that we can proceed with the disestablishment ofthe Church, the Local Option Bill, and the thousand-and-one other fadsfor which English Home Rulers have sold themselves'--the men who saythis, and who also say 'If they kick over the traces we can instantlytighten the reins and reduce them to order, ' surely these folks cannotbe aware that the Gladstone-Morley Government is unable to giveStrachan, of Tuam, the land which he has bought and paid for in theLand Courts. The British Government cannot collect the rents ofColonel O'Callaghan, of Bodyke; nor can it prevent the daily cases ofmoonlighting and outrage which are so carefully hushed up, and whichhardly ever get into Irish newspapers. When the British Governmentcannot make a few farmers either pay their rent or leave the land, thesaid Government having control over the police and civil officers ofthe law, how is it going to collect the purchase money of the farms, in the form of rent, when it has not this control? "The new police will be in the hands of a Parliament, elected by thesevery farmers, who, so to speak, have tasted blood, have ceased to makeefforts to pay rent, have been encouraged in their refusal to pay bythe very men Mr. Gladstone proposes to entrust with the whole concern!Will these farmers suddenly turn round and say, 'We declined to paywhen English rule would have forced payment, we shall be delighted topay when nothing could make us do so?' I have been connected withIrish farmers and landowners for thirty years as a land specialist, and I tell you that the thing will work exactly as I have said. Putthe Rebel party in power, and see what will happen to you. It is hardto believe that Englishmen will act so stupidly in a matter so vitallyaffecting their own interests. That is why educated people both inIreland and England do not believe the bill will ever become law. Theycannot conceive the final acceptance of anything so utterlypreposterous. But call on me to-morrow, and I will go into the legalpossibilities of the question. " So I gathered posies of bog-bean bloom and walked round the bigboulders with which this sterile region is thickly strewn. The nativesknow nothing of Home or any other Rule, and you might as well speak tothem of the Darwinian theory, or the philosophy of Herbert Spencer, orthe Homeric studies of the Grand Old Man, or the origin of theSanskrit language. The only opinion I could glean was the leading ideaof simple Irish agriculturists everywhere. A young fellow who appearedto be in a state of intellectual advancement so far beyond that of theother Barnans as to be almost out of sight, said:-- "I'm towld that there's to be a Parlimint in Galway city that's tofind imploymint for the people, an' that ivery man is to have fiveacres of good land for nothin', and that if it isn't good land he isto have ten acres, and that there's to be an Oirish King in Dublin, an' that all the sojers an' pleecemen is to be put out o' thecounthry, an' all Protestants is to go to England, an' that's all verygood, but the Protestants might be allowed to stay, for they're dacentfolks, but thin they say that nobody's to howld land but theCatholics. " I met an old lady clad in the short skirt of the Connaught peasantry, walking bare-headed, bare-footed, and almost bare-legged from chapel, carrying a bottle of holy water, probably destined for some importantpurpose within the sacred precincts of the domestic circle. Perhapsthe old man was rheumatic, or it may be that the fairies had spoiltthe butther, or that the cow was bewitched, or that the shadow of ablack Protestant had fallen across the threshold. She was a promisingsubject for original conversation, but unhappily she could speak noEnglish. My Galway friend explained the bottle, and said "Here we havetrue religion. If you want the genuine, unadulterated article you mustcome to Galway, and especially to Barna. Look how she clings to it, how she holds it to her breast, how reverentially she looks down onit. Suppose she caught her foot on a stone, stumbled, and broke thebottle! Horrid thought, involving (perhaps) eternal damnation, (unlessshe were quickly absolved by the priest). There is piety for you! As agood Catholic I am ashamed of myself when I think how little religion(comparatively) there is in me. Education has been a curse. How happyI should be if I had that old woman's simple, strong belief in thevirtues of holy water, especially when carried home in a well-washedwhiskey bottle. But, somehow, the more we Catholics know the less webelieve. We go regularly to mass, at any rate I do (my wife is verydevout), but I fear that Catholics have less and less faith inproportion to their culture. But for the women Catholicism would nothold its ground among the higher classes of Irishmen for so much asfive-and-twenty minutes. " It seems to me that the belief of uncultured Irishmen as to theimmense benefits to be derived from Home Rule is exactly on a par withthe belief of uncultured Irishwomen as to the immense benefits to bederived from the sprinkling of holy water. No reasonable man, who hascarefully examined the subject, will for one moment assert that thereis a pin to choose between the two. The votes of these poor folks, admitted by thousands to the electorate, have sent to Westminster thehireling orators whose persistent clamour has turned a slipperystatesmen from the paths of patriotism and propriety, and whosesubterranean machinations--aided and abetted by men versed inJesuistic and Machiavellian strategy, and who believe that the endjustifies the means--threaten to undermine the British Empire, and toinvolve the citizens of England in political and financial ruin. Apretty pass for a respectable individual like John Bull. England to beworked by the wire-pulling of a few under-bred, half-educated priests!whose tincture of learning John himself has paid for--poor Bull, whoseems to pay for everything, and who would gladly have paid forgentility, too, if the Maynooth professors could have injected thecommodity by means of a hypodermic syringe, or even by hydraulicpressure. No use in attempting impossibilities. As well endeavour tocommunicate good manners or gratitude to a Nationalist M. P. My legal friend was full of matter, but many of his points were tootechnical for the general reader. He said:--"Absurd to ask what anIrish Parliament _will_ do, because we know the tendencies of thepresent men. We must ask what it _can_ do, for it is certain that itsmembers will from time to time be replaced by men of more 'advanced'opinions. Appetite grows by what it feeds on, and the Irish peoplewant to pose as an independent nation. Englishmen and Scotchmen sayIreland would never be so foolish, and I am not surprised that theyshould say this. But when did Irishmen act on the lines of Englishmenor Scotchmen? They never did; they never will. The peoples areactuated by entirely different motives. Englishmen look at what isgoing to pay. They act on whatever basis promises the mostsubstantial return. Irishmen are swayed by sentiment. " Here I remembered a remark of Father McPhilpin, parish priest ofKilronane, Aran Isles. He said:--"The Irish people act more for fancyand less for money than any nation on earth. The poorest classes haveless sentiment than the middle classes. They are too closely engagedin securing a livelihood. But the great difficulty of the English inmanaging the Irish lies in the fact that the English people work onstrictly business principles, and that the Irish do not. The Englishpeople do not at all understand the Irish; and the reason is perfectlyclear to me. They do not appreciate the extent to which mere sentimentwill move the Irish race, mere sentiment, as opposed to what you wouldcall business principles. " Returning to my barrister. He continued:--"The Dublin bar hasdecided--has formally decided--that so far as the action of theExecutive is concerned the Irish Parliament will be a supreme andirresponsible body. The action of its officers will not be in any waysubject to the review of the English Government. What does this mean?Simply that the life, the liberty, the property of every citizen willbe entirely in the hands of the Irish Government. Do the Englishpeople know this? I think not. For if they did know, surely they wouldthink twice before they committed decent people to the tender merciesof the inventors and supporters of the Land League, with its tenthousand stories of outrage and murder. " "Give instances of what they can do, say you? They can refuse policeprotection to persons whose lives are in danger from the NationalLeague. And, as you know, scores of persons are at this moment underprotection in Ireland. Mr. Blood, of Ennis, would be shot on sight;Mr. Strachan, of Tuam, would be torn to pieces, if without the three, or four policemen who watch over him day and night; the caretakers onthe Bodyke estate would get very short shrift, once the sixteenpolicemen who guard the two men were removed. Blood discharged alabourer, Strachan bought a farm. If, under the now _régime_, a farmerpaid rent against the orders of the National League; if a manpersisted in holding land from which someone had been evicted yearsago; if a man worked for a boycotted person or in any way supportedhim, although it were his own father, he would be in danger of hislife. Would the new Government give police protection to such people?To do so would be to stultify themselves. "Then again the Irish Executive can refuse police protection toSheriffs' officers who desire to execute writs for non-payment ofrent. No, I do _not_ think they would refuse a police escort toSheriffs' officers proceeding to distrain on the Belfastmanufacturers. I think they would order a strong force to proceed, fully armed, and I am of opinion that the police would require all theweapons they could carry. Not a stiver would they get in Belfast, until backed by the Queen's troops. Then the Ulstermen would pay--torefuse next year. So the process will go on and on, with bloodshedand slaughter every time, the British army enforcing the demands ofrebels, against loyalists who sing 'God save the Queen, ' Quite in theopera bouffe style of Gilbert and Sullivan, isn't it? Can't you getGilbert to do a Home Rule opera comique? The absurdities of thesituation are already there. No invention required. Immense hit. WishI knew Gilbert. Money in it. English people might see the thing in thetrue light, if presented in comic songs, with a rattling chorus. Friend of mine bringing out a Gladstone Suppression Company Unlimited, forty million shares at twopence-halfpenny each. At a premium already. Money subscribed ten times over. " "And won't the new Parliament have a high old time with the new LandCommission. Messrs. Healy and Co. Will have the appointment of theLand Commissioners, whose function will be to fix rent. Wouldn't youlike to be a landlord under such conditions? Don't you think that therents will be reduced until the landlords are used up? Remember thatthe total extinction of the landlords and their expulsion from thecountry have been over and over again promised by the very men inwhose hands you, or rather Mr. Gladstone will place them. No; Iexculpate the English people from returning him to power, I know thatthe brains of England as well as those of Ireland are against him. Butthe English people stand by and see the thing pressed forward, hopingfor the best. They rely on their immense wealth and energy to get themout of any hole they may get into. I am reminded of Captain Webb, whosaid, 'I am bound to have a go at the Niagara rapids. I know it'sinfernal risky and therefore infernally foolish, but I must have cash, and I expect I shall pull through somehow. ' And I once met a sailorwho said that his skipper had not his equal for getting the ship outof a scrape, nor yet his equal for getting into one. Same withEngland. Webb did not come up again. Might be the same with Bull. England is risking all for peace, just as Webb risked all for money. "The Irish Parliament may, after three years, break every contracthaving regard to land, no matter when or how made. Think of theferment during that three years of waiting. Think of the situation offarmers as well as that of landowners. Who will work the land and dothe best for the country without security? Then the College Greenfolks will have power to establish an armed and disciplined force. TheIrish Army of Independence is already recruiting all over the country. For what? Is it to assist England? Is it friendly to England? Why, thevery foundation of its sentiment is undying animosity to England. Andyour English Home Rulers say, 'Quite right, too, the Irish have goodreason for their hatred!' Gladstonians come over here, mingle withhaters of their native land, and earn a little cheap popularity byslanging John Bull. They get excellent receptions when they speak inthat vein, especially if they have any money to spend. But what do theIrish think of them? The poor fools make me sick, splashing their cashabout and vilifying England for the cheers of Fenians and thepatronage of Maynooth priests. A lady from Wolverhampton, a good, kindlady, was woefully imposed upon somewhere in Connemara. A priest toldme; a priest you have met. " Here the name was given. "He laughed atthe simplicity of this well-meaning benefactor, who was shown nineteenprocesses for rent, and who shelled out very liberally at the sight. " "Seventeen of them were old ones! The rent had already been paid. Butwhenever an English _gobemouche_ called around out came the old writsuntil they were clean worn out. They were a splendid source of incomewhile they lasted. " This reminded me of a Bodyker, who said:--"A man named Lancashire camehere from Manchester or Birmingham--I think it was Birmingham--andsaid he was going into the next Parliament, and that he was a greatfriend of Mr. Gladstone. He was very kind, and seemed made of money, and said he'd make England ring with our wrongs. My son had his nameon a card, but a lawyer in Limerick said the name hadn't got in. Iforget it now. D'ye know anybody, Sorr, of the name of Lancashirethat's a great friend o' Misther Gladstone, an' that lives inBirmingham, an' that didn't get in?" These Irish peasants ask more questions than anybody can answer. Theyhave a keen scent for cash, especially when the coin is in the keepingof English Gladstonians. They believe with the Claimant that "Sumfolks has branes, and sum folks has money, and them what has money ismade for them what has branes. " The Bodyke farmers and the peasantryof Connemara believe that English Home Rulers have money. Impossibleto escape the natural inference. Barna (Co. Galway), May 30th. No. 29. --WHAT RACK-RENT MEANS. I am disposed to call this quiet inland place a fishing village. Thepeople not only sell fish and eat fish, but they talk fish, read fish, think fish, dream fish. The fishing industry keeps the place going. Anglers swarm hither from every part of the three kingdoms. Last yearthere were five fishing Colonels at the Greville Arms all at once. Brown-faced people who live in the open air, and who are deeply versedin the mysteries of tackle, cunning in the ways of trout, pike, perch, and salmon, walk the streets clad in tweed suits, with strong shoesand knickerbockers. The Mullingar folks despise the dictum of theAmerican economist who said that every town without a river should buyone, as they are handy things to have. They boast of three magnificentlakes, and they look down on the Athlone people, thirty miles away, with their trumpery Shannon, of which they are so proud, but which theMullingar folks will tell you is not worth the paper it is writtenon. Lough Owel, five miles long by two or three wide; LoughDerravarra, six miles by three or four; and Lough Belvidere, eightmiles by three, all of which are in the immediate vicinity, may beconsidered a tolerable allowance of fishing water for one countrytown. Lough Belvidere, formerly called Lough Ennell, with itsthousands of acres of water, would perhaps meet with the approval ofthe Yankee who called the Mediterranean "a nice pond, " not for itssize, but for its exceeding beauty. And the most remarkable featureabout the fisher-enthusiasts of Mullingar, is the fact, the undoubted, well-attested fact, that they actually catch fish. English anglers, who in response to the inquiries of new arrivals at any Anglicanfishing resort state that they have caught nothing yet, having onlybeen fishing for a fortnight, will hardly believe that at Mullingartheir countrymen catch fish every day, and big fish too. The laketrout vary from five to twenty pounds in weight, but the latter arenot often seen. Nine-pounders are reckoned fairly good, but thisweight excites no remark. How big the pike may be I know not, but Mr. Herring, of London, on Monday last, fishing in Lough Derravarra, hauled out a specimen which looked more like a shark than a pike. Heweighed over thirty-six pounds, and measured four feet three inchesover all. _Hoc egomet oculis meis vidi. _ Birmingham anglers who winprizes with takes of four-and-a-half ounces would have recoiled inaffright from the monster, even as he lay dead in the entrance hall ofthe Greville Arms. Old women stand at the street corners with silvereels like boa-constrictors, for which they wish to smite the Saxon tothe tune of sixpence each. I vouch for the pike and eels, but confessto some dubiety _re_ the story of a fat old English gentleman, whosaid, "I don't care for fishing for the sake of catching fish. I goout in a boat, hook a big pike, lash the line to the bow, and let thebeggar tow me about all day. Boating is my delight. Towards evening Icut my charger loose, and we part with mutual regret. Inexpensiveamusement; more humane than ordinary fishing. " Mullingar is a thriving town situate in a fertile district. The landis very rich, and the rents are reasonable. The farmers are well off, and admit the soft impeachment. They are Home Rulers to a man, andthey boldly give their reasons. "Did ye ever know a man who wascontint wid a good bargain when he has a prospect of a better bargainstill?" said a prosperous agriculturist residing a mile outside thetown. The country around has a decidedly English appearance. Fat land, good roads, high hedges, daisied meadows, and decent houseseverywhere. The main street is long, wide, clean, well-paved, well-built. The shopkeepers who live in the surrounding district makemoney, and when they "go before, " cut up for surprising sums. Said Mr. Gordon, "Everybody here has money. The people are downright well off. Living in constant communication with Dublin, fifty miles away on themain line of the Midland and Western Railway, they have adopted theprevailing politics of the metropolis. They do not understand whatHome Rule means, and they blindly believe that they will do betterstill under a Dublin Parliament. I am quite certain of the contrary. Suppose we want £500 for some improvement, who will lend us the money?I am satisfied that the prosperity of the place would immediatelydecline. The priests influence the people to an extent Englishmen cannever understand. The Protestant clergy do not intervene in mundanematters, but the Catholic clergy consider it their duty to guide thepeople in politics as well as in religion. Given Home Rule, Protestantism and Protestants would be nowhere. There is no doubt inmy mind on this point. " Mr. Mason said:--"The whole agitation would be knocked on the head bythe introduction of a severe land measure, which would have the effectof further reducing the rents. No doubt all previous land legislationhas been very severe, and I do not say that a further measure would bejust and equitable. I merely say that the people do not want HomeRule, but they want the advantages which they are told will accruefrom Home Rule. If the measure is not to benefit them in a pecuniarysense, then they do not care two straws about it. Do the Englishpeople grasp the present position of landowner and tenantrespectively? Let me state it in a very few words. -- "Formerly the landowner was regarded as the owner of the land. At thepresent moment, and without a line of further legislation, the tenantis the real owner, and not the nominal landlord at all. For owing toreduction of rent, fixity of tenure, free sale, and the tenant-right, the tenant is actually more than two-thirds owner. This is a matter ofcash and not of theory, for the tenants' rights are at this momentworth more than double the fee-simple of the land itself. What willthe Gladstonian party who prate about Rack-rents say to this?" This seems a suitable opportunity for calling attention to the termRack-rents, which in England is almost universally misunderstood. Separatist speakers invariably use the term as denoting an excessiverent, an impossible rent--a rent, which is, as it were, extorted bymeans of the Rack. The term is purely legal, and denotes a rent paidby ALL yearly tenants, whether their rent, as a whole, be high or low. The lowest-rented yearly tenant in the country is paying Rack-rent. The whole case for the farmers has been obscured and a false issueraised by the constant use of this term, to which a new meaning hasbeen given. Another common term is found in the word Head-rent, ofwhich Gladstonians know no more than of Rack-rent. When Head-rentcomes to be discussed in England we shall have Home Rulers explainingthat the term refers to decapitation of tenants for non-payment ofRack-rent. This explanation will not present any appreciable departurefrom their usual vein. An English Home Ruler who supports Mr. Gladstone "because his father did, " and who first landed in Irelandyesterday, said, "I do not approve of ascendency. Hang the rights ofproperty! Give me the rights of intellect. Let us have equality. Treat the Irish fairly, even generously. They should have equal rightswith Englishmen. Why keep them down by force of bayonets? Live and letlive, that's what I say. Equal laws and equal rights for all. " That is the usual patter of the self-satisfied Separatist, who, havingdelivered himself, looks around him with an air which seems tosay--"What a fine fellow I am, how generous, fair, disinterested. HaveI not a noble soul? Did you ever see such magnanimity? Can anybody sayanything against such sentiments? Thank heaven that I am not as othermen, nor even as this Unionist. " He is plausible, but no more. The mobwhich applauds the hero and hisses the villain of a melodrama pats himon the back, while he looks upward with his hand on his heart and aheaven-is-my-home expression in his eye. Put him under themicroscope--he needs it, and you will see him as he is. The platitudesin which he lives, and moves, and has his being have no foundation infact. His talk is grand, but it lacks substance. It is magnificent, but it is not sense. Listen to what a statesman has said:-- "I have looked in vain for the setting forth of any practical schemeof policy which the Imperial Parliament is not equal to deal with, andwhich it refuses to deal with, and which is to be brought about byHome Rule. " "There is nothing Ireland has asked, and which this country and thisParliament has refused. This Parliament has done for Ireland what itwould have scrupled to do for England or Scotland. " "What are the inequalities of England and Ireland? I declare that Iknow none, except that there are certain taxes still remaining, whichare levied over Englishmen and Scotchmen, and which are not leviedover Irishmen; and, likewise, that there are certain purposes forwhich public money is freely and largely given in Ireland, and forwhich it is not given in England and Scotland. " I read this deliverance to my Gladstonian friend, who was staggered tolearn upon incontrovertible evidence, to wit, the printed report ofhis speech, that these were the publicly expressed opinions of theGrand Old Man, whose pandering to Irish opinion as expressed byoutrage dates from the time of the Clerkenwell explosion. That hisconversion to Home Rule is entirely attributable to the endlessmurders and atrocities of the Land League, the Invincibles, and otherFenian organisations, is universally admitted in Ireland by Unionistsand Nationalists alike. And once an Irish Parliament is granted, howwill he resist the demand for Irish independence, for the IrishRepublic affiliated with America? Query--if a given number of murderswere required to bring about Home Rule, how many murders will berequired to effect complete separation? A mere question in arithmetic. Concurrently with the compulsory withdrawal of the Union Jackdisplayed by my friend Mrs. Gibson, of Northern Hotel, Londonderry, another occurrence, this time in the South, will serve to attest theprogress made by the inventor and patentee of the Union of Hearts. During the progress of a cricket match on the Killarney AthleticGrounds, between the clubs of Limerick and Kerry, on Whit-Monday, aUnion Jack was hoisted, not as a political banner, but as an ornament, and the only banner available for the purpose. It was left flying whenthe cricketers went home, but in the morning it lay prone anddishonoured. The forty-foot spar had been sawn through, and in fallinghad smashed the palings. Let a chorus of musical Gladstonians marchthrough Ireland bearing the Union Jack and singing "God save theQueen, " let them do it, with or without police protection, and I willgladly watch their progress, record their prowess, and will have greatpleasure in writing their obituary notice. The people, as a whole, areenemies to England. They are filled with a blind, unreasoning, implacable resentment for injuries they have never received, theirdislike engendered and sustained by lying priests and selfishagitators, who are hastening to achieve their ends, alarmed at theprospect of popular enlightenment, which would for ever hurl them frompower. The opinions of Cardinal Logue have been quoted by LordRandolph Churchill. The _Freeman's Journal_ is still more absolute. Does this sound like the Union of Hearts? Does this give earnest offinal settlement, of unbroken peace and contentment, of eternalfraternity and friendship? The _Freeman_ says, "We contend that thegood government of Ireland by England is _impossible_, not so much byreason of natural obstacles, but because of the radical, essentialdifference in the public order of the two countries. This, consideredin the abstract, makes a gulf profound, impassible--_an obstacle nohuman ingenuity can remove or overcome_. " This promises well for the success of the Home Rule Bill; but why isthe thing "impossible"? Why is the gulf not only profound but also"impassible"? Why is the good government of Ireland by Englandprevented by an obstacle beyond human ability to remove, and which, asMr. Gladstone would say, "passes the wit of man. " The _Freeman_ has noobjection to tell us. The writer assumes a high moral standpoint, addressing the eminently respectable and religious Mr. Bull more insorrow than in anger, but notwithstanding this, in a style to whichthat highly moral and Twenty-shillings-in-the-pound-paying person isnot at all accustomed. The _Freeman_ goes on-- "We find ourselves bound by reason and logic to deny to Englishcivilisation the glorious title of Christian. " This is distinctly surprising. John always believed himself aChristian. The natural pain he may be expected to undergo after thisdisagreeable discovery is luckily to some extent mitigated by theinformation that although England is not Christian, Ireland isextremely so. The one people (the Irish) "has not only accepted butretained with inviolable constancy the Christian civilisation;" theother (the English) "has not only rejected it, but has been for threecenturies the leader of the great apostacy, and is at this day _theprincipal obstacle to the conversion of the world_. " Do the English Separatists see daylight now? Will they any longer denywhat all intelligent Irishmen of whatever creed readily admit, namely, that religion is at the bottom of the Home Rule question? And is notMr. Bull surprised to find that after all his missionary collections, he is without the right balm of Gilead, that his civilisation is notChristian, and that he is the principal obstacle to the salvation ofthe world? Is he not surprised to find that Ireland, with its thousandand ten thousand tales of horror, its brutal outrages on helplesswomen, its chronic incendiarism, its myriads of indecent anonymousletters addressed to young girls, such as I have seen filed by theream in Irish police-stations--Ireland with its moonlightingatrocities, its barbarous boycotting of helpless children, itspoisoning of wells and water supply, its mutilation of cattle, itsunnumbered foul and cowardly murders, its habitual sheltering andprotection of unspeakable felons--Ireland, one of the few remainingstrongholds of the Catholic faith, has the true Christianity? Irelandwould convert the world, but England stops her. The No-rent manifesto, the Plan of Campaign, and the Land League were sample productions ofthe genuine faith, to say nothing of Horsewhipped Healy, BreechesO'Brien, and T. D. Sullivan, who composed a eulogy on the murderers ofPolice-sergeant Brett, of Manchester (Allen, Larkin, and O'Brien), High upon the gallows tree Swung the noble-hearted three. That is all I can remember, but it may serve to show that IrishChristianity is the real stingo, and no mistake. A Mullingaringian who wishes to be nameless desires to knowparticulars of the gorging capacity of the average Gladstonianelector. The particular item that excites his wonder is the letter ofMr. J. W. Logan, M. P. , on Irish rents. Briefly stated, Mr. Logan'spoint is this: That notwithstanding the complaints of Irish landlordsthey are getting more rent than ever! And he proceeds to adducetestimony thus: Income-tax valuation in Ireland, on land, in threeyears selected by himself stands as follows:-- 1861 £8, 990, 830 1877 £9, 937, 681 1891 £9, 941, 368 Then, after showing the amount of increase, he says:--"Rents continueto rise in Ireland as far as is indicated by the income-tax. " My friend says:--"Mr. Logan is both culpably ignorant and flagrantlydishonest. He seems incapable of understanding the difference betweenan assessment, a mere valuation, and the actual payment of income-tax. He is dishonest, because he deliberately suppresses the explanation ofthe difference between the first and second row of figures. When I sawthe curiously-selected years, I said, why 1861, 1877, and 1891? I knewthere was some thimble-rigging. I looked at the twenty-eighth annualreport of her Majesty's Commissioners, that for 1885, the latest Ihave, and behold, the year 1877 had an asterisk! It was the onlystarred number on the page. It referred to a foot-note, and thatfoot-note read as follows:-- "'_The large difference as compared with prior years is due to thevalue of farmhouses having been previously included under the head ofmessuages. _' "The land up to '77 was called land, and the farm buildings werecalled messuages. But in '77 they began to reckon the buildings asland, shifting an amount from one column of figures to another. A merematter of book-keeping. Mr. Logan writes to the papers for anexplanation which is given in a footnote. He carries his point, forhundreds of people will follow his figures. Give a lie twenty-fourhours' start and you can never overtake it. Thrice is he armed whohath his quarrel just, But four times he who gets his blow in fust. Isuppose the Gladstonians claim that the Land Commission reduced rentsby 25 to 30 per cent. But here Mr. Logan is proving that the landlordsare drawing more money than ever! They wish they could believe it. Valuation is a queer thing. It fluctuates in the most unaccountableway. What an increase shows is the prosperity of the tenant who isputting up buildings and making other improvements. Mr. Logan's thirdfigures show a further increase. Look at the figures in the authorisedReport, not for '77 and '91, but between the two. What do you seethere?" I looked, and this is what I saw:-- 1880 £9, 980, 543 1881 £9, 980, 650 1882 £9, 980, 215 1883 £9, 981, 156 1884 £9, 982, 072 1885 £9, 982, 031 1886 £9, 954, 535 So that Mr. Logan might have shown from these figures that during theNo-Rent Campaign the landlords were enjoying an untold period ofprosperity, for his chosen year, 1891, shows a _decrease_ as comparedwith any one of the seven years above-mentioned. The truth is that thefigures prove nothing in support of Mr. Logan's case, which is basedon fallacy and suppression of material facts. His comparison of 1861with 1877, without reference to the explanatory footnote, is of itselfsufficient to shoulder him out of court, and stamps him as little morescrupulous than Father Humphreys, of venerated memory. Mr. Logan'sbelief that assessment and tax-paying are one and the same thing ishere regarded as ridiculous, and my friend thinks that if Mr. Gladstone should impose a tax on Brains, the Grand Old Man's followerswill escape with an easy assessment. Mullingar (Co. Westmeath), June 1st. No. 30. --THE "UNION OF HEARTS. " It was strange to hear the tune of "Rule Britannia" in the streets ofMullingar. The Irish madden at "God Save the Queen, " and would makeshort work of the performer. It was market day, and the singer wasselling printed sheets of poesy. The old tune was fairly correct, butthe words were strange and sad. "When Britain first at Hell's commandPrepared to cross the Irish main, Thus spake a prophet in our land, 'Mid traitors' scoff and fools' disdain, 'If Britannia cross thewaves, Irish ever shall be slaves. ' In vain the warning patriot spoke, In treach'rous guise Britannia came--Divided, bent us to her yoke, Till Ireland rose, in Freedom's name, and Britannia boldly braves!Irish are no longer slaves. " The people were too busily engaged inselling pigs to pay much attention to the minstrel who, however, wasplainly depending on disloyalty for custom. Westmeath was once thehome of Whiteboyism, Ribbonism, Fenianism, and all the other ismswhich have successively ruined the country by banishing security; anda spice of the old leaven still flavours the popular sentiment. "Theymay swear as they often did our wretchedness to cure, But we'll nevertrust John Bull again nor let his lies allure. No we won't Bull, wewon't Bull, for now nor ever more; For we've hopes on the ocean, we'vetrust on the shore. Oh! remember the days when their reign we diddisturb, At Limerick and Thurles, Blackwater and Benburb. And ask thisproud Saxon if our blows he did enjoy When we met him on thebattlefield of France, at Fontenoy. Then we'll up for the green, boys, and up for the green! Oh! 'tis still in the dust and a shame to beseen! But we've hearts and we've hands, boys, full strong enough, Iween, To rescue and to raise again our own unsullied green. " A groupof farmers standing hard by paid some attention to this chant, and oneof them, in answer to my inquiry as to how the Union of Hearts wasgetting on, chuckled vociferously and said, "Aye, aye, Union ivHearts, how are ye? How are ye, Union iv Hearts?" The group joined inthe laugh, and I saw that the joke was an old one. The Invincibles had a few recruits in Mullingar and district, and theLand Leaguers also made their mark. The stationmaster sued somebodyfor travelling without a ticket. He was shot dead in the streetimmediately afterwards. Miss Croughan did not meet popular opinion inthe matter of farm management. She was shot as she walked to churchone fine Sunday morning. Patrick Farrelly took land which somebodyelse wanted. Shot as he walked home from work. Mr. Dolan, of a flourmill in the neighbourhood, had some misunderstanding with his workmen. Shot, on the chance that his successor would take warning, andaccommodate himself to the public sentiment. Miss Ann Murphy, who withher two brothers lives at a small farm a mile or two away, supplied ajug of milk, and said that things were quiet for the moment, but therewas no telling what might happen. The house was roofed with corrugatediron. "Ah, " said Miss Murphy, "we were nearly burned to death, myselfan' my two brothers. An' this was the way iv it. Tramps and ruffianswould call here at nightfall, an' would ask for a shelter an' a liedown, an' I would lay a few bags or something on the flure overbeyant, an' they would sthretch themselves out till mornin', an' oftenand often I would wash their cheeks an' heads where they had beenfightin', an' would be all cut an' hacked. One fellow was often here, an' my brothers had reason to refuse him free lodgin's, an' so thenext mornin' we found the gate lifted off the hinges an' carried awaydown the lane. My brothers spoke to the police-sergeant about this, an' the very next thing was to try to burn us alive in our beds. Someruffian came in the night an' put a match in the thatch, an' I wokealmost suffocated. I ran out, an' there was the house on fire, and thecow-house, with a beautiful, lovely cow, all a solid piece of blazin'flames, till ye could see nothin' else. We saved the four walls an'some of the furniture, an' we got £50 from the County. That's the sortof people the Land League brought out all over the country. " A sturdy farmer living near said:--"An' that's what we'll have tosuffer again, once ye let Home Rulers have the upper hand. The onlyway ye can manage these scamps is to make them feel the lash. No goodtomfooling with these murdherin' ruffians. With Home Rule they expectto do as they like. If I go into a whiskey shop on a market day, whatdo I hear? Ever an' always the same things. There is to be nolandlords, no policemen, no means of enforcing the law. There ye haveit, now. The respectable people who work and make money will be a markfor every robber in the country. An' in Ireland ye can rob and murtherwidout fear of consequences. See that hill there? Mrs. Smith had herbrains blown out as she drove by the foot of it. They meant the shotfor her husband, who was with her. They don't make many mistakes. Theybide their time, avoid hurry, and do the work both nately an'complately. They track down their victims like sleuth hounds, an'there's one thing they never go in for, --that's executions. Mrs. Smith, Farrelly, Dolan, Miss Croughan, and the stationmaster, were allcomfortably shot without anyone incurring evil consequences. It'sdevilish hard to catch an Irishman, an' when ye've caught him it'sharder still to convict him. They're improvin' in their plannin', butthey are not so sure o' their shootin' as they used to be. They firedat Moloney from both sides of the road at once. That was a good idea. But they failed to kill him, and seven of them are arrested. Ofcourse, we'll have no convictions, but it looks better to arrest them, an' it ensures the man that's arrested a brass band an' a collection. So everybody's pleased an' nobody hurt. An' what would ye ask formore?" On Thursday last, at eleven in the morning, Mr. Weldon C. Moloney, solicitor, of Dublin, was driving near Milltown, on the Bodykeproperty, when he was wounded from the ankle to the thigh by severalsimultaneous shots from both sides of the road, and the horse so badlyinjured that it must probably be destroyed. Mr. Moloney believes thathe will be able to identify his assailants, and the police are surethey have the right men. Nothing, therefore, is now wanting to theformalities accompanying the Morley administration of Justice but themarch to Court, the cheers of the crowd, the twelve good men andtrue--who, having sworn to return a verdict in accordance with theevidence, will assuredly say Not Guilty--and the brass band toaccompany the marksmen home. If the heroes of this adventure beliberated in the evening a torchlight procession will make the thingcomplete, and will be handy for burning the haystacks of anyone whomay not have joined the promenade. Athlone is well built and beautifully situated. The Shannon windsround the town, and also cuts it in two, so that one-half is in CountyWestmeath, province of Leinster, the other in County Roscommon, province of Connaught. The people are fairly well clad, but dirt andsqualor such as can hardly be conceived are plentiful enough. TheShannon Saw Mills, which for twenty years have given employment to twohundred men, will shortly be removed to Liverpool, and the Athlonersare sad at heart and refuse to be comforted. The concern belongs toWilson, of Todmorden, Lancashire; and the manager, Mr. Lewis Jones, says that all the timber within reasonable distance is used up, besides which the place is not well fixed for business purposes. Theworkpeople are manageable enough, but somewhat uncertain in theirattendance. They require a half-hour extra at breakfast time every nowand then, perhaps twenty times a year or more, that they may attendmass, on the saints' days and such like occasions. This reminded me of my first entrance to Galway. All the bridges andother lounging places were covered with men who looked as if theyought to be at work. It was Ascension Day, and nobody struck a stroke. My invasion of Athlone afforded a similar experience. There weresixty-five able-bodied men lounging on the Shannon bridge at three inthe afternoon--all deeply anxious to know whence I came and whither Iwas going, all with an intense desire to learn my particular business. Other pauper factories were in full swing, and at the first blush itseemed that the Athloners lived by looking at the river and discussingthe affairs of other people. It was Corpus Christi Day, and none butheathen would work. The brutal Saxon with his ding-dong persistencymay be making money, but how about his future interests? When the lasttrump shall sound and the dead shall be raised, where will be theworkers on saints' days? Among the goats. But the men who spend theseholy seasons in smoking thick twist, with the Shannon for a spittoon, will reap the reward of their self-denial. Mr. Lewis Jones has always taken a strong interest in politics, andhis present opinion is remarkable. "I came to Ireland a Gladstonian, aHome Ruler, and, what is more, a bigoted Home Ruler. How the change tomy present opinion was brought about I hardly know. It was notrevolution, but rather evolution. No-one can remain a Home Ruler whenhe understands the subject. The change in myself came about throughmuch travelling all over the country and mixing with the people. I donot blame the English Home Rulers a bit. How can I do so, when Imyself was just as ignorant? Had I remained in Liverpool I should haveremained a Home Ruler. I am certain of that. Unless you actually livein the country you cannot gauge its feeling, and the Irish people arevery difficult to understand. I have always got along with themfamously, and I shall take ninety per cent. Of our workmen with me toEngland. No, Home Rule has nothing to do with the removal of theworks. "My cousin and I worked like horses to get in Mr. Neville for theExchange Division of Liverpool. We actually won, for by a piece ofadroit management we polled a number of votes which would certainlyhave remained unpolled, and we polled them all for our man, who won bya very small majority, eleven, I think. I would willingly go toLiverpool to undo that work, as I now see how completely I wasmistaken in my views of the Irish question. I was always a greatRadical, and such I shall always remain; but as a Radical I am boundto support what is best for the masses of the people, and I amconvinced that Home Rule would reduce the country to beggary. Bankruptcy must and will ensue, and with the flight of the landownersand the destruction of confidence, employment will be unobtainable. Who will embark capital in Ireland under present circumstances?" A financial authority told me that poor Ireland has thirty-sixmillions of uninvested money lying idle in the banks. The Irish notonly lack enterprise, but they will not trust each other. Greatopportunities are lying thickly around, but they seem unable to availthemselves of the finest openings. Mr. Smith, of Athlone, makes twelveand a half miles of Irish tweed every week, and sells it rather fasterthan he can make it. He commenced with two shillings a week wages, andnow he owns a factory and employs five hundred people. A BlackProtestant, of course. Mr. Samuel Heaton, of Bradford, is about to goand do likewise. I went over his place an hour ago, and this is whathe said:--"This was a flour mill which cost £10, 000 to build. Themachinery would cost £10, 000 more, I should think. It did well formany years, and then it was left to three brothers, who disputed aboutit until the concern was ruined as a paying business, and the placewas allowed to lie derelict. The water power alone cost them £100 ayear, and goodness knows what these splendid buildings would be worth. The Board of Works had got hold of it, and it was understood thatanybody might have it a bargain, but nobody came forward. I offeredthem £30 a year for the whole of the buildings, the waterpower, andthe dwelling house hard by, also that other immense building yonder, which might prove handy for a store-house; and my offer was accepted. I took all at that rent for sixty years, with six months' free tenancyto start with, and I was also to have a free gift of all machinery andfittings in the place. Here we are going nicely, only in a small way, but we shall do. We make blankets, tweeds for men's suits and ladies'dresses. When the Athlone people saw us knocking about they weresurprised they had never thought of it before. There are hundreds ofderelict flour mills going to ruin all over the country, and theowners would gladly let anyone have them and grand water power fornothing for two or three years, just to get a chance of obtaining rentat some future day. We work from morning till night, and neither I normy sons have ever tasted a spot of intoxicating liquor. Now there aremany small mills going in the country, the proprietors of which go onthe spree three days a week. If they can do, we can do. This is goingto be a big thing. The only difficulty I have is to turn out thestuff. Irish tweeds have such a reputation that we simply cannot meetthe demand. Mills and water power may be had for next to nothing, butthe Irish have no enterprise, and the English are afraid to put anymoney in the country under present circumstances. " The Lock Mills above mentioned are three or four stories high, withperhaps a hundred yards of front elevation, a grandly built series ofstone buildings close to the Shannon, which is here about a hundredand twenty yards wide, and carries tolerably large steamers andlighters. Six months' occupancy for nothing, the old machinery a freegift, water power and buildings for sixty years at £30 a year. I havepreviously mentioned the twelve big mills abandoned on the Boyne. Twelve openings for small capitalists--but Irishmen put their money instockings, under the flure, in the thatch. _They_ will not trustIrishmen, although they have no objection to John Bull's doing so. Abank manager of this district said:-- "Poor Connaught, as they call the province, is a great hoarder. Andwhen Irishmen invest they invest outside Ireland. Seventy-eightthousand pounds in the Post Office savings bank in Mayo, the mostpoverty-stricken district--as they will tell you. There is Connaughtmoney in Australia, in America, in England, and in all kinds offoreign bonds. Irishmen want to keep their hoardings secret. They liketo walk about barefoot and have money in their stocking. An old womanwho puts on and takes off her shoes outside the town has three sonshigh up in the Civil Service, and could lend you eight hundred pounds. You would take her for a beggar and might offer her a penny, and she'dtake it. Have you noticed the appalling mendicancy of Ireland? Haveyou reflected on the 'high spirit' of the Irish people? Have youremembered their pride, their repugnance to the Saxon? And have younoticed the everlastingly outstretched hands which meet you at everycorner? Beggary, lying, dirt, and laziness invariably accompanypriestly rule, and are never seen in Ireland in conjunction withProtestantism? I wish somebody would explain this. The Irish massesare the dirtiest and laziest in the world, but there are no dirty, lazy Protestants. Nobody ever heard of such a thing. And yet becausethere are more dirty, lazy Catholics than clean, industriousProtestants Mr. Gladstone would give the Catholic party the mastery, and England in future would be ruled from Rome. "Mr. Gladstone is not responsible for his actions. The Civil Servicewill not employ a man after sixty-five. The British Government forbidsa man to work in its service after that time. The consensus ofscientific opinion has fixed sixty-five as the limit at which thecontrol of an office or the execution of routine office work shouldcease. Slips of memory occur, and the brain has lost its keen edge, its firm grip, its rapid grasp of detail. At sixty-five you are notgood enough for the Civil Service, but at eighty-four, when you arenineteen years older, you may govern a vast empire. It is an anomaly. Even the Nationalists think Mr. Gladstone past his work. " This statement was fully borne out by a strong anti-Parnellite ofAthlone. He said:--"The bill is a hoax, but it is better than nothing. We'll take what we can get, an' we'll get what we can take--afterwards. Ye wouldn't be surprised that the people's bitter about the bill. Sure, 'tis no Home Rule it is at all, even if we got it as it first stood. 'Tis an insult to offer such a bill to the Irish nation. We wantcomplete independence. We have a sort of a yoke on us, an' we'll neverrest till we get it off. Ye say 'This'll happen ye, and That'll happenye, ' an' ye care the divil an' all about it. We don't care whathappens, once we get rid of that yoke. A friend of mine said yesterday, 'I never see an Englishman but I think I'd like to have him under myfeet, an' meself stickin' somethin' into him. ' There's murther in theirhearts, an' ye can't wonder at it. An' owld Gladstone's a madman, noless. I'm towld he ordhers a dozen top hats at once, an' his wife getsthe shop-keeper to take thim back. An' I'm towld he stales the spoonswhin he goes out to dine wid his frinds, an' that his wife takes thimback in a little basket nixt mornin'. And I thought that was allnonsinse till I seen the bill. An' thin I felt I could believe it; for, bedad, nobody but a madman could have drawn up sich a measure, tooffind everybody, an' plaze nobody. 'Tis what ye'd expect from alunatic asylum. But, thin, 'tis Home Rule. 'Tis the principle; an' asthe mimber for Roscommon says, ''Tis ourselves will apply it, an' 'tisourselves will explain it. That's where we'll rape the advantage, ' sayshe. " The Athlone market is "now on, " and several hundred cows and calvesare lowing in front of the Royal, Mrs. Haire's excellent caravanserai. Sheep are bleating, and excited farmers are yelling like pandemoniumor an Irish House of Commons. Athlone is a wonderful place fordonkeys, which swell the nine-fold harmony with incessant cacophonousbraying, so that the town might fairly claim the distinction of beingthe chosen home, if not the _fons et origo_, of Nationalist oratory. Athlone, June 3rd. No. 31. --THE "UNION OF HEARTS. " Once again the Atlantic stops me. The eighty-three miles of countrybetween here and Athlone have brought about no great change in theappearance of the people, who, on the whole, are better clad than theGalway folks. The difference in customs, dress, language, manners, andlooks between one part of Ireland and another close by is sometimesvery considerable. There is a lack of homogeneity, a want of fusion, an obvious need of some mixing process. The people do not travel, andin the rural districts many of them live and die without journeyingfive miles from home. The railways now projected or in process ofconstruction will shortly change all this, and the tourist, with moreconvenience, will no longer be able to see the Ireland of centuriesago. The language is rapidly dying out. Not a word of Irish did I hearin Athlone, even on market day. The Westporters know nothing about it. The tongue of the brutal Saxon is everywhere heard. The degenerateIrish of these latter days cannot speak their own language. Theypreach, teach, quarrel, pray, swear, mourn, sing, bargain, bless, curse, make love in English. They are sufficiently familiar with theBritish vernacular to lie with the easy grace of a person speaking hismother-tongue. They are a gifted people, and a patriotic--at leastthey tell us so, and the Irish, they say, is the queen of languages, the softest, the sweetest, the most poetical, the most sonorous, themost soul-satisfying. And yet the patriot members speak it not. William O'Brien is said to know a little, but only as you know aforeign language. He could not address the people on the woes ofIreland, could not lash the brutal Saxon, could not express in hisnative tongue the withering outpourings of his patriotic soul. Healways speaks in English, of which he thinks foul scorn. He is thebest Gaelic scholar of the rout, and yet he could not give you theIrish for breeches. Westport is splendidly situated in a lovely valley watered by anameless stream which empties itself into Clew Bay. A grand range ofmountains rises around, the pyramidal form of Croagh Patrickdominating the quay. It was from the summit of this magnificent heightthat Saint Patrick sent forth the command which banished from theGreen Isle the whole of the reptile tribe. "The Wicklow Hills are veryhigh, An' so's the hill of Howth, Sir; But there's a hill much higherstill, Aye, higher than them both, Sir! 'Twas from the top of thishigh hill Saint Patrick preached the sarmint, That drove the frogs outof the bogs An' bothered all the varmint. The toads went hop, thefrogs went flop, Slap-dash into the water, An' the snakes committedsuicide to save themselves from slaughter. " Pity there is no modernsuccessor of Saint Patrick to extirpate the reptilia of the presentday, the moonlighters and their Parliamentary supporters, to wit. The Westport people are very pious. As I have previously shown byquotations from Irish authorities, Ireland has the true Christianitywhich England so sadly needs. Unhindered by England, Ireland wouldevangelise the world, and that in double-quick time. Every town Ivisit is deeply engaged in religious exercises. In Limerick it was aTriduum with some reference to Saint Monica. In Cork it was somethingelse, which required much expenditure in blessed candles. In Galwaythe Confraternity of the Holy Girdle was making full time, and inWestport three priests are laying on day and night in a mission. A fewdays ago they carried the Corpus Christi round the place, six hundredchildren strewing flowers under the sacerdotal feet, and the crowds ofworshippers who flocked into the town necessitated the use of a tent, from which the money-box was stolen. On Sunday last the bridgeconvaynient to the chapel was covered with country folks who could notget into the building, and a big stall with sacred images in plasterof Paris and highly-coloured pictures in cheap frames was doing aroaring trade. Barefooted women were hurrying to chapel to getpictures blessed, or walking leisurely home with the sanctifiedtreasure under their shawls. A brace of scoffers on the bridgeexplained the surging crowd, and advised instant application, thatevening being the last. "Get inside, wid a candle in yer fist, an' yecan pray till yer teeth dhrop out iv yer head. " This irreverence isprobably one of the accursed fruits of contact with the sacrilegiousSaxon. "The people here are cowardly, knavish, and ignorant, " said anIrishman twenty years resident in Westport. "They believe anything thepriests tell them, and they will do anything the priests may order oreven hint at. They would consider it an honour if the priests toldthem to lie down that they might walk over them. Politically they areentirely in the hands of the Roman Catholic clergy. They are totallyunable to understand or to grasp the meaning of the change nowproposed, which would place the country entirely at the mercy of theclerical party. We see the result of popular election in the return ofPoor Law Guardians, who spend most of their time in calling each otherbeggars and liars. Patronage under the Home Rule Bill would mean theinstalment of the relatives of priests in all the best offices. Oncewe have an Irish Parliament, a man of capacity may leave the countryunless he have a priest for his uncle. "We want a liberal measure of Local Government, and a final settlementof the land question. The poor people are becoming poorer and poorerthrough this eternal agitation which drives away wealth and capital, and undermines the value of all Irish securities. Poor as we were, wewere much better off before the agitation commenced. The poorthemselves are becoming alive to the fact that continuous agitationmeans continuous poverty. We must now have some sort of Home Rule, butwe shall be ruined if we get it from a Liberal Government. If we getit from a Tory Government, the English will run to lend us money, butif from a Morley-Gladstone combination they won't advance us a stiver. The present Irish Parliamentary representatives have the confidenceof no single Irish party. They were well enough for their immediatepurpose, and no better men would come forward. To entrust them withlarge powers is the very acme of wild insanity. Admitting theirhonesty, which is doubtful, they have had no experience in businessaffairs, and their class is demonstratedly devoid of administrativecapacity. The Poor Law Guardians of Cork, Portumna, Ballinasloe, Swinford, Ballyvaughan, and many other towns and cities, have by theirmismanagement brought their respective districts to insolvency. Thatevery case was a case of mismanagement is clearly proved by the factthat the Government having superseded these Boards in each case by twopaid Guardians, a period of two years has sufficed to wipe off alldebts, to reduce expenses, and to leave a balance in hand. They thenbegin to drift again into insolvency. And where the guardians have notbeen superseded, where they have not yet become bankrupt, they stillhave a bank balance against them. You will scarcely hear of a solventparish, even if you offer a reward. And that is the class of personsMr. Gladstone would entrust with the administration of Irish finance. The result would be the country's bankruptcy, and England would haveto pay the damage. Serve England right for her stupidity. " What my friend said anent the class of men who compose the ranks ofthe Irish Parliamentary party reminds me of something I heard inAthlone. A great anti-Parnellite said:--"Poor Mat Harris was thesplindid spaker, in throth! Parnell it was that sent him to the Houseof Commons. Many's the time I seen him on the roof of the Royal Hotel, fixin the tiles, an' puttin things sthraight, that the rain wouldn'trun in. 'Tis a slater he was, an' an iligant slater, at that. An' whenhe came down for a big dhrink, the way he'd stand at the bar anddiscoorse about Ireland would brake yer heart. Many's the time I seenthe ould waiter listenin' to him till the wather would pour out iv histwo good-lookin' eyes. An, thin, 'twas Mat Harris had the gab, resthis sowl! Ye haven't anybody could come up to him barrin' owldGladstone, divil a one. " Another Athloner, speaking of an IrishNationalist M. P. , who luckily still lives, said:--"Mr. Parnell tookhim up because he was a wonderful fellow to talk, and so was popularwith the mob of these parts. I think he was a blacksmith by trade. Parnell got him made M. P. , and set him up with a blue pilot coat, butforgot to give him a handkerchief. So he used the tail of his coatalternately with his coat sleeve. He never had a pocket-handkerchiefin his life, but he was a born legislator, and the people believed hecould do much to restore the vaunted ancient prestige and prosperityof Ireland. He came to Athlone, and went to the Royal, but the waiter, who did not know he was speaking to a member of Parliament, andmoreover one of his own kidney, declined to take him in, andrecommended a place where he could get a bed for Thruppence! And theM. P. Actually had to take it. This was only inconsistent with his newdignity, and not with his previous experiences. This is the kind ofperson who is to direct Irish legislation more efficiently than theeducated class, who unanimously object to Home Rule as detrimental tothe interests of both countries, and as likely to further impoverishpoor Ireland. The men who now represent the 'patriotic' party willfeather their own nests. They care for nothing more. " The Westport folks may not deserve the strictures of their friend oftwenty years, but two things are plainly visible. They are dirty, andthey have no enterprise. The island-dotted Clew Bay and the sublimepanorama of mountain scenery, the sylvan demesne of the Earl of Sligo, and the forest-bordered inlets of Westport Bay, form a scene ofsurpassing loveliness and magnificence such as England and Walestogether cannot show. The town is well laid out, the streets are broadand straight, and Lord Sligo's splendid range of lake and woodland, free to all, adjoins the very centre. And yet the shops are small andmean, the houses are dirty and uninviting, and dunghills front thecottages first seen by the visitor. A breezy street leads upward tothe heights, and all along it are dustheaps, with cocks and hensgalore, scratching for buried treasure. At the top a stone railwaybridge, the interstices facing the sea full of parsley fern, wildmaidenhair, hart's-tongue, and a beautiful species unknown to me. Thebracing air of the Atlantic sweeps the town, which is sheltered withalby miles of well-grown woods. The houses are dazzling white, and likethe Rhine villages look well from a distance. Beware the interiors, orat least look before you leap. Then you will probably leap like thestricken hart, and in the opposite direction. You will be surprised atyour own agility. Flee from the "Lodgings and Entertainment" announcedin the windows. Your "Entertainment" is likely to be livelier than youexpected, and you will wish that your Lodgings were on the cold, coldground. The Westporters are too pious to wash themselves or theirhouses. "They wash the middle of their faces once a month, " said aBlack Methodist. For there are Methodists here, likewise Presbyteriansand Plymouth Brethren--besides the Church of Ireland folks, who onlyare called Protestants. All these must be exempted from the charge ofdirtiness. Cleanliness, neatness, prosperity, and Protestantism seemto go together. Father Humphreys himself would not deny this dictum. For the other clause of the indictment--lack of enterprise--theWestporters are no worse and no better than their neighbours. TheCorkers make nothing of their harbour, spending most of their time intalking politics and cursing England. Commercial men speak of thedifficulty of doing business at Cork, which does not keep itsappointments, is slippery, and requires much spirituous lubrication. Cork ruins more young commercial men than any city in Britain, andowing to the unreliability of its citizens, is more difficult to work. Galway has scores of ruined warehouses and factories, and has beendiscussing the advisability of building a Town Hall for forty yearsat least. Limerick has a noble river, with an elaborate system ofquays, on which no business is done. The estuary of the Shannon, someten miles wide, lies just below, opening on the Atlantic; and a littleenterprise would make the city the Irish head-quarters for grain. Thequays are peopled by loafers, barefooted gossiping women, and dirty, ragged children playing at marbles. Great buildings erected to holdthe stores that never come, or to manufacture Irish productions whichnobody makes, are falling into ruin. I saw the wild birds of the airflying through them, while the people were emigrating or complaining, and nothing seemed to flourish but religious services andfowl-stealing. It was during my sojourn in Limerick that somebodycomplained to the Town Council of poultry depredations, whichcomplaint drew from that august body a counter-complaint to the effectthat the same complainant had complained before, and that he alwaysdid it during a Retreat, that is, when the town was full of peopleengaged in special religious services--so that the heretic observer, and especially the representative of the _Gazette_, referred to byname, might couple the salvation of souls with the perdition of hens, to the great discredit of the faith. But this is a digression. Westport should brush itself up, cleanse its streets, tidy up itsshops, sanitate its surroundings, and offer decent accommodation totourists. The latter does exist, but is scarce and hard to find. Thepeople of Cork, Limerick, and Galway blame England and English rulefor the poverty which is their own fault alone. They hate theNortherners as idle unsuccessful men hate successful industrious men. Belfast is a standing reproach. The people of Leinster, Munster, andConnaught have had the same government under which Ulster hasflourished, with incomparably greater advantages of soil and climatethan Ulster, with better harbours and a better trading position. Butinstead of working they stand with folded hands complaining. Insteadof putting their own shoulders to the wheel they wait for somebody tolift them out of the rut. Instead of modern methods of agriculture, fishing, or what not, they cling to the ancient ways, and resentadvice. The women will not take service; the men will not dig, chop, hammer. They are essentially bone-idle--laziness is in their blood. They will not exert themselves. As Father McPhilpin says, "They willnot move. You cannot stir them if you take them by the shoulders andhaul at them. " What will Home Rule do for such people? Will it servethem instead of work? Will it content the grumblers? Will it silencethe agitators? Will it convert the people to industry? Will it imbuethem with enterprise? Will it make them dig, chop, fish, hammer? Willit make the factory hands regular day by day? Will it cause the womento wash themselves and cleanse their houses? Will it change theiringrained sluttishness to tidiness and neatness and decency? FatherMahony, of Cork, said that the Irish fisherman turned his back on theteeming treasures of the deep, because he groaned beneath the cruelEnglish yoke. Since then I have seen him fishing, but I did not hearhim groan. He wanted boats, nets, and to be taught their use. Mr. Balfour supplied him with plant and instructions. Father Mahony andhis tribe of wind-bags feed the people on empty air. The starving poorask for bread, and they get a speech. They are told to go ongrumbling, and things will come all right. Nobody ever tells them towork. Murder and robbery, outrage and spoliation, landlord-shootingand moonlighting, are easier ways of getting what they want. The Planof Campaign, the No Rent combination, the Land League brotherhood whenrightly considered, were just so many substitutes for honest work. Ireland will be happy when Ireland is industrious, and not a momentbefore. No need to say that the Westporters are Home Rulers. The clean andtidy folks, the Protestant minority, are heart and soul against thebill, but the respectable voters are swamped all over Ireland, bydevotees of the priests. "We think the franchise much too low, " said aPresbyterian. "We think illiterate Ireland, with its abject servilityto the Catholic clergy, quite unfit to exercise the privilege ofsending men to Parliament. We think the intelligent minority shouldrule, and that the principles which obtain in other matters might wellbe applied to Parliamentary elections. These ignorant people are nomore fit to elect M. P. 's than to elect the President of the RoyalSociety or the President of the Royal Academy. And yet if mere numbersmust decide, if the counting of heads is to make things right orwrong, why not let the people decide these distinctions? The West ofIreland folks know quite as much of art or science as of Home Rule, orany other political question. They have returned, and will in futurereturn, the nominees of the priests. " One of the highest legal authorities in Ireland, himself a RomanCatholic, said to me:-- "You saw the elections voided by reason of undue priestly influence. That was because, in the cases so examined, money was available to paythe costs of appeal. If there had been money enough to contest everycase where a Nationalist was returned, you would have seen every suchelection proved equally illegal, and every one would have beenadjudicated void. " The Westport folks are looking for great things from the greatParliament in College Green. A Sligo man who has lived in Dublin wasyesterday holding forth on these prospective benefits, his onlyauditor being one Michael, an ancient waiter of the finest Irishbrand. Michael is both pious and excitable, and must have an abnormalbump of wonder. He is a small man with a big head, and is verydemonstrative with his hands. He abounds with pious (and other)ejaculations, and belongs to that popular class which is profuse inexpressions of surprise and admiration. The most commonplaceobservation evokes a "D'ye see that, now?" a "D'ye tell me so, thin?"or a "Whillaloo! but that bates all!" As will be seen, Michaelartistically suits his exclamations to the tone and matter of theprincipal narrator, mixing up Christianity and Paganism in a quaintlycomposite style, but always keeping in harmony with the subject. TheSligo man said:-- "I seen the mails go on the boat at Kingstown, an' there was hundhredsof bags, no less. " "Heavenly Fa-a-ther!" said Michael, throwing up eyes and hands. "Divil a lie in it. 'Twas six hundhred, I believe. " "Holy Moses preserve us!" "An' the rivinue is millions an' millions o' pounds. " "The saints in glory!" "An' wid Home Rule we'd have all that for Oireland. " "Julius Saysar an' Nibuchadnizzar!" "Forty millions o' goolden sovereigns, divil a less. " "Thunder an' ouns, but ye startle me!" "An' we're losin' all that"-- "Save _an'_ deliver us!" "Becase the English takes it"-- "Holy Virgin undefiled!" "To pay peelers an' sojers"-- "Bloody end to thim!" "To murther and evict us"-- "Lord help us!" "An' collect taxes an' rint. " "Hell's blazes!" Ten minutes after this conversation under my window Michael adroitlyintroduced the subject of postal profits in Ireland. I told him therewas an ascertained loss of £50, 000 a year, which the new Legislaturewould have to make up somehow. Michael bore the change with fortitude. The loss of forty millions plus fifty thousand would have upset many aman, but Michael only threw up his eyes and said very softly-- "Heavenly Fa-a-ther!" Westport, June 6th. No. 32. --HOME RULE AND IRISH IMMIGRATION. A bright country town with a big green square called The Mall, bordered by rows of great elm trees and brilliantly whitewashedhouses. The town is about a mile from the station, and the way ispleasant enough. Plenty of trees and pleasant pastures with thrivingcattle, mansions with umbrageous carriage-drives, and the immense massof Croagh Patrick fifteen miles away towering over all. The famousmountain when seen from Castlebar, is as exactly triangular as anEgyptian pyramid, or the famous mound of Waterloo. Few British heightshave the striking outline of Croagh Patrick, which may be called theMatterhorn of Ireland. Castlebar is always dotted with soldiers, TheBuffs are now marching through the town, on their way to the exerciseground, but the sight is so familiar that the street urchins hardlyturn their heads. The Protestant Church, square-towered, fills acorner of The Mall, and there stands a statue of General O'Malley, with a drawn sword of white marble. Lord Lucan, of the BalaklavaCharge, hailed from Castlebar. The town and its precincts belong tothe Lucans. There is a convent with a big statue of the Virgin Mary, and the usual high wall. The shops are better than those of Westport, and the streets are far above the Irish average in order andcleanliness. The country around is rich in antiquities. BurrishooleAbbey and Aughnagower Tower, with the splendid Round Tower ofTurlough, are within easy distance, the last a brisk hour's walk fromCastlebar. There in the graveyard I met a Catholic priest of more thanaverage breadth and culture, who discussed Home Rule with apparentsincerity, and with a keener insight than is possessed by most of hisprofession. He said:-- "When the last explosion took place at Dublin, the first to apprise meof the affair was the Bishop of my diocese, whose comment was summedup in the two words 'Castle job!' Now that riled me. I am tired ofthat kind of criticism. " Here I may interpolate the critique of Colonel Nolan, who was thefirst to apprise me of the occurrence. --"I do not say that the IrishGovernment officials are responsible for the explosion. That would notbe fair, as there is no evidence against them. But I do say that ifthey did arrange the blow-up they could not have selected a bettertime, and if some mistaken Irish Nationalist be the guilty person hecould not have selected a worse time from a patriotic point of view. "Thus spake the Colonel, who has an excellent reputation in his owndistrict. The stoutest Conservatives of Tuam speak well of him. "Allthe Nolans are good, " said a staunch Unionist; and another said, "TheNolans are a good breed. The Colonel is good, and Sebastian Nolan isjust as good. Nobody can find fault with the Nolans apart frompolitics. " The Colonel is one of the nine Parnellites accursed of thepriests. Perhaps he was present at the Parnellite meeting at Athenry, regarding which Canon Canton, parish priest of Athenry, declared fromthe altar that every person attending it would be guilty of mortalsin. English readers will note that the Parnellites resent priestlydictation. Another interpolation anent "the Castle job. " I thought to corner agreat Athlone politician by questions _re_ the recent moonlighting, incendiarism, and attempted murders in Limerick and Clare. He said-- "All these things are concocted and paid for by the Tories of England. The reason Balfour seemed to be so successful was simple enough whenyou know the explanation. Balfour and his friends kept themoonlighters and such like people going. They paid regular gangs ofmarauders to disturb the country while the Liberals were in power. When the Tories get in, these same gangs are paid to be quiet. Thenthe Tories go about saying, 'Look at the order we can keep. ' Everyshot fired in County Clare is paid for by the English Tories. Sure, Ihave it from them that knows. Ye might talk for a month an' ye'd neverchange my opinion. There's betther heads than mine to undershtandthese things, men that has the larnin', an' is the thrue frinds ofIreland. When I hear them spake from the altar 'tis enough for me. Ilave it to them. Ye couldn't turn me in politics or religion, an' Iwouldn't listen to anybody but my insthructors since I was twelveinches high. " Well might Colonel Winter, who knows the speakerabove-mentioned, say to me, "He has read a good deal, but his readingseems to have done him no good. " It is time I went back to Turlough's Tower and my phoenix priest whowas riled to hear his Bishop speak of the Dublin explosion as a"Castle job. " He claimed that "the clergy are unwilling instruments inthe hands of the Irish people, who are unconquerable even after sevenhundred years of English rule. The Irish priesthood is so powerful anelement of Irish life, not because it leads, but because it follows. Powerful popular movements coerce the clergy, who are bound to jointhe stream, or be for ever left behind. No doubt at all that, beingonce in, they endeavour to direct the current of opinion in the coursemost favourable to the Catholic religion. To do otherwise would be todeny their profession, to be traitors to the Church. They did notcommence the agitation. The Church instinctively sticks to what isestablished, and opposes violent revolutionary action. History willbear me out. The clergy stamped out the Smith-O'Brien insurrection. The Catholic clergy of the present day, mostly the sons of farmers, are perhaps more ardently political than the clergy of a former day, alittle less broad in view, a little more hot-headed; yet in the mainare subject to the invariable law I laid down at first--that is, theyonly follow and direct, they do not lead, or at any rate they onlyplace themselves in the front when the safety of the Church demandsit. The bulk of the clergy believe that the time to lead has now come. My own opinion, in which I am supported by a very few, --but I am happyto say a very distinguished few, --is this: The Roman Catholic Churchis making immense progress in England; a closer and closer connectionwith England will ultimately do far more for the Church than can behoped from revolutionary and republican Ireland. We should by a HomeRule Bill gain much ground at first, but we should as rapidly lose it, while our hold on England would be altogether gone. Many of theso-called Catholic Nationalists are atheists at heart, and thetendency of modern education is decidedly materialistic. So thatinstead of progressive conquest the Church would experienceprogressive decline, which would be all the more striking after thegreat but momentary accession of prestige conferred by the Home RuleBill. My theory is--Let well alone. The popular idea is to achievecommanding and lasting success at a blow. " The Castlebar folks have diverse opinions, the decent minority, theintelligence of the place, being Unionist, as in every other Irishtown. A steady, well-clad yeoman said:--"I've looked at the thing in ahundred ways, and although I confess that I voted for Home Rule, yetwhen we have time to consider it, and to watch the debate on everypoint, we may be excused if we become doubtful as to the good it willdo. The people round here are so ignorant, that talking sense to themis waste of time. They will put their trust in coal mines and the likeof that. Now, I have gone into the subject of Irish mines. I have readthe subject up from beginning to end. Wicklow gold would cost us apound for ten shillings' worth. The silver mines wouldn't pay, and thelead mines are a fraud; while the copper mines would ruin anybody whoput their money into them. I know something about Irish coal. LordRanfurly did his best for Irish coal at Dungannon. Mines were sunk andcoal was found, but it was worthless. Well, it fetched half a crown aton, and people on the spot went on paying a guinea a ton forNewcastle coal because it was cheaper in the end. We may have iron, but what's the good when we have no coal to smelt it? The Irishforests which formerly were used for this purpose are all gone. Thenthe people put their trust in wool and cotton manufactures. They maydo something with the wool, because England is waking up to thesuperior quality of Irish woollen productions; but in the cottonEngland is here, there and everywhere before us. 'Oh, ' say some whoshould know better, 'put a duty on English goods, and make the Irishbuy their own productions. ' What rubbish! when England buys almostevery yard of Irish woollen stuff, and could choke us off in a momentby counter-tariffs. Without English custom the Irish tweed mills wouldnot run a single day. "As an Irishman, I should like to have a Parliament of my own. Isuppose that is a respectable ambition. At the same time, I cannot seewhere it would do us any substantial good. No, I do not think thepresent Nationalist members loyal to the English Crown. Nor are theytraitors. A priest explained that very well. There's a distinction. 'Aman may not be loyal and yet not be a traitor, for how can a man be atraitor to a foreign government?' said he. That sounded like thetruth. I thought that a reasonable statement. For, after all, we _are_under foreign rule, and we have a perfect right to revolt against itand throw off the English yoke if we could do it, and if it suited usto do it. How to do it has been the talk since my childhood, and manya year before. It is the leading idea of all secret societies, andhardly any young man in Kerry and Clare but belongs to one or other ofthem. The idea is to get rid of the landlords who hold the country forEngland. There it is, now. We'll never be a contented conqueredprovince like Scotland. We'd be all right if we could only makeourselves content. But the Divil is in us. That's what ye'll say. TheDivil himself is in Irishmen. " The Mayo folks are great temporary migrants. From the County Mayo andits neighbour Roscommon come the bands of Irish harvesters whichannually invade England. Latterly they are going more than ever, andthe women also are joining in large numbers. The unsettled state ofthe country and the threat of a College Green Parliament have madework scarcer and scarcer, and the prevailing belief among the betterclasses that the bill is too absurd to become law, is not sufficientto counteract the chronic want of confidence inspired by the presenceof Mr. Gladstone at the helm of state. Five hundred workers went fromWestport Quay to Glasgow the other evening. More than two-thirds werewomen from Achil Island, sturdy and sun-burnt, quaintly dressed inshort red kirtle, brilliant striped shawl, and enormous lace-up boots, of fearful crushing power. Though not forbidding, the women were veryplain, ethnologically of low type, with small turn-up noses, smalleyes, large jaws, and large flat cheekbones. The men were ugly as sinand coarse as young bulls, of which their movements were remindful. Apiper struck up a jig and couples of men danced wildly about, thewomen looking on. Five shillings only for forty hours' sea-sickness, with permission to stand about the deck all the time. Berths were, ofcourse, out of the question, and the boat moved slowly into theAtlantic with hundreds of bareheaded women leaning over the sides. Another boat-load will land at Liverpool, to return in September andOctober. The best-informed people of these parts think that under theproposed change the young female population of Mayo would be compelledto stay in England altogether, and that their competition in theEnglish labour market would materially lower the rate of factory wage. "They live hard and work like slaves when away from Ireland, " said anexperienced sergeant of the Royal Irish Constabulary. "And yet theyare lazy, for on their return they will live somehow on the money theybring back until the time comes to go again, and during the intervalthey will hardly wash themselves. They will not work in their owndistricts, nor for their friends, the small farmers. Partly pride, partly laziness; you cannot understand them. The man who attempts toexplain the inconsistencies of the Irish character will have all hiswork before him. Make the country a peasant-proprietary to suit thesmall farmers, and the labouring class will go to England and Scotlandto live. The abolition of the big farmers will cut the ground fromunder their feet. You will have Ireland bossing your elections, as inAmerica, and cutting the legs from under your artisans. For let metell you that once Paddy learns mechanical work he is a heap smarterthan any Englishman. " If Home Rule should become law, and if England should be over-run bythe charming people of Connaught, the brutal Saxon will be interestedto observe some of the ancient customs to which they cling with atouching tenacity. Marriage with the Connaught folks is entirely amatter of pecuniary bargain. The young folks have no act or part inthe arrangements. The seniors meet and form a committee of ways andmeans. How much money has your son? How much has your daughter? Thedetails once understood, the parties agree or disagree, or leave thematter pending while they respectively look about for a betterbargain. And even if the bargain be ostensibly agreed to, either partyis at liberty to at once break the match, on hearing of somethingbetter. The prospective bride and bridegroom have nothing to say inthe negotiations, and may never have seen each other in their lives. Previous acquaintance is not considered necessary, and the highcontracting parties are frequently married without having met beforethey meet at the altar. This was hard to believe, but careful inquiryestablished the fact. Never was a case of rebellion recorded. The ladytakes the goods the gods provide her, and the gentleman believes thatthe custom yields all prizes and no blanks. Marriage is indeed alottery in Connaught. The system works well, for unfaithfulness issaid to be unknown. The Connaught funerals are impressive. One ofthese I have seen, and one contents me well. The coffin arrived on acountry cart, the wife and family of the deceased sitting on the body, after the fashion attributed to English juries. To sit elsewhere thanon the coffin would in Connaught be considered a mark of disrespect. The children sit on the head and feet, the wife jumps on the chest ofthe dear departed, and away goes the donkey. The party dismount at thechurchyard gates, and as the coffin enters they raise the Irish cry, ablood-curdling wail that makes your muscles creep, while a cold chillruns down your spine, and you sternly make for home. You may as wellsee it out, for you can hear the "Keen" two miles away against thewind. The mourners clasp their hands and move them quickly up anddown, recounting the deceased's good deeds, and exclaiming, in Irishand English, "Why did ye die? Ah, thin, why did ye die?" To which veryreasonable query no satisfactory answer is obtainable. The widow isexpected to tear her hair, if any, and to be perfectly inconsolableuntil the churchyard wall is cleared on leaving. Then, and not before, she may address herself to mundane things. Good "Keeners" are in muchrequest, and a really efficient howler is sure of regular employment. The Connaught folks are somewhat rough-and-ready with their dead. Colonel Winter, of the Buffs, told me that he came across adonkey-cart in charge of two men, who were waiting at a cross-road. Acoffin had been removed from the cart, and stood on its end hard by. "I thought it was an empty coffin, " said the Colonel, "but it wasn't. The men were waiting, by appointment, for the mourners, and meanwhilethe old lady in the coffin was standing on her head. Wonderful countryis Ireland. "An old woman died in the workhouse of typhus fever, or some othercontagious disorder. The corpse was placed in a parish coffin, andwas about to be buried, when a relative came forward and offered totake charge of the funeral, declining to accept the workhouse coffin. The authorities consented, on condition that the proposed coffinshould be large enough to enclose the first one, explaining that thebody was dangerously contagious. The relative, a stout farmer, dulyarrived at the workhouse with the new coffin, which was found to betoo small to include the first one, and the authorities thereuponrefused to have the coffins changed. So the mourner knocked down twomen, and, making his way into the dead-room, burst open the receptaclecontaining his revered grandmother, whipped her out of the parochialbox, planked her into the family coffin, and triumphantly walked heroff on his shoulder. There was filial piety for you! They arrestedthat man, locked him up, and, for aught I know, left the old lady tobury herself, which must have been a great hardship. What Englishmanwould have done as much for his grandmother? And yet they say thatConnaught men have no enterprise!" A Protestant of Castlebar said:--"If the English people fail tocorrectly estimate the supreme importance of the present crisis it isall over with us, and, I think, with England. If the Unionist partypersevere they must ultimately win. The facts are all with them. Enlightenment is spreading, and if time to spread the truth can begained Home Rule will be as dead as a door-nail. If, on the otherhand, the English people fail to see the true meaning of Home Rule, which is revolution and disintegration, England, from the moment anIrish Parliament is established, must be classed with those countriesfrom which power has dwindled away; her glory will have commenced towane, her enemies will rejoice, and she will present to the world theaspect of a nation in its decadence. The Irish leaders and the Irishpeople alike, who support Home Rule, are ninety-nine hundredthsdisloyal. Already the leaders are cursing England more deeply thanbefore, this time for deceiving them about the Home Rule Bill. Theirmost respectable paper is already preparing the ground for furtheragitation. The _Irish Independent_ says that the Irish people arebeing marched from one prison to another, and told that is theirliberty. Such is the latest criticism of the Home Rule Bill, aspronounced by the Nationalist party. The same paper ordered the LordMayor of Dublin and the City Council to refuse an address ofcongratulation on the marriage of the Duke of York and Princess May, and they refused by more than four to one. They refused when it wasthe Duke of Clarence. We could understand that, but why refuse now, when Home Rule is adopted as the principal measure of the Governmentwhose only aim is the Union of Hearts? The English people must indeedbe fools if they cannot gauge the feeling that dictated a vote so meanas this. Surely the English will at the eleventh hour draw back andsave us and our country, and themselves and their country from unknowndisaster. If they allow this ruinous measure to become law I shallalmost doubt the Bible where it says, 'Surely the net is set in vainin the sight of any bird. '" I met a very savage Separatist in Castlebar. They are numerous in Mayoand Galway. The more uncivilised the district, the more ignorant thepeople, the more decided the leaning to Home Rule. My friend was notof the peasant class, but rather of the small commercial travellerbreed, such as, with the clerks and counterskippers of the countrystores, make up the membership of the Gaelic clubs by which theexpulsion of the Saxon is confidently expected. He said, "I am forcomplete Independence, and I do not believe in what is calledconstitutional agitation. Who would be free, themselves must strikethe blow. Every country that has its freedom has fought for it. Iwould not waste a word with England, which has always deceived us andis about to deceive us once again. England has always wronged us, always robbed us. England has used her vast resources to ruin ourtrade that her own might flourish. The weakest must go to thewall--that is the doctrine of England--which thrives by our beggaryand lives by our death. You have heaps of speakers in England whoadmit this. Gladstone knows it is true. The Irish people have let theEnglish eat their bread for generations. The Irish people have seenthe English spending their money for centuries. This must be stoppedas soon as possible, and Ireland grows stronger every day. Everyconcession we have obtained has been the result of compulsion, and Iam for armed combination. Every Irishman should be armed, and know theuse of arms. The day will come when we shall dictate to England, andwhen we may, if we choose, retaliate on her. We shall have an army andnavy of our own; all that will come with time. We must creep before wewalk, and walk before we run. The clubs already know their comrades;each man knows his right and left shoulder man, and the man whoseorders he is to obey. Merely a question of athletic sports, atpresent. But when we get Home Rule the enthusiasm of the people willbe whetted to such an extent that we shall soon enroll the whole ofthe able-bodied population, and after then, when we get the WORD, youwill see what will happen. Where would be your isolated handfuls ofsoldiery and police, with roads torn up, bridges destroyed, and anentire population rising against them? Yes, you might put us down, butwe'd first have some fun. In a week we'd not leave a red coat in theisland. " The gratitude, the warm generosity of the Irish people is verybeautiful. The Union of Hearts, however, as a paying investment seemsto have fallen considerably below par. Castlebar, June 8th. No. 33. --TUAM'S INDIGNATION MEETING. Here I am, after two hours' journey by the Midland and Great WesternRailway, which leads to most of the good things in Ireland, and isuncommonly well managed, and with much enterprise. By the Midland andGreat Western Railway you may cover the best tourist districts inquick time and with great comfort. By it you may tackle Connemaraeither from Galway or Westport, and the company, subsidised by Mr. Balfour, will shortly open fifty miles of line between Galway andClifden. Then we want a thirty-mile continuation from Clifden byLetterfrack and Leenane to Westport, and the circle will be complete. For that, Paddy must wait until the Tories are again in office. As hewill tell you, the Liberals spend their strength in sympathetic talk. Mr. Hastings, of Westport, said:--"I care not who hears me say thatthe Tories have instituted the public works which have so muchbenefited the country. The Liberals have always been illiberal in thisrespect. Mr. Balfour did Ireland more good than any Liberal IrishSecretary. " Mr. Hastings is as good a Catholic Home Ruler as FatherMcPhilpin, who said substantially the same thing. Ballina is on theMoy--every self-respecting town in Ireland has a salmon river--and theMidland and Great Western Railway gives fishing tickets to tourists, who anywhere on this line should find themselves in Paradise. From thethree lakes of Mullingar to the Shannon at Athlone, from the Moy atBallina to the Corrib at Galway, the waters swarm with fish. Thesalmon weir at Galway is worth a long journey to see. The fishliterally jostle each other in the water. They positively elbow eachother about. Sometimes you may stand against the salmon ladder in themiddle of the town, and although the water is clear as crystal youcannot see the bottom for fish--great, silvery salmon, upon whosebacks you think you might walk across the river. The Moy at Ballina isperhaps fifty yards wide, and the town boasts two fine bridges, one ofwhich is flanked by a big Catholic church. The streets are nothandsome, nor yet mean. Whiskey shops abound, though they are notquite so numerous as in some parts of Ennis, where, in Mill Street, about three-fourths of the shops sell liquor. Castleisland in Kerrywould also beat Ballina. Mr. Reid, of Aldershot, said:--"Thepopulation of Castleisland is only one thousand two hundred, but Icounted forty-eight whiskey-shops on one side of the street. " Of a rowof eleven houses near the main bridge of Ballina I counted sevenwhiskey-shops, and one of the remaining four was void. There wereseveral drink-shops opposite, so that the people are adequatelysupplied with the means of festivity. The place has no strikingfeatures, and seems to vegetate in the way common to Irish countrytowns. It probably lives on the markets, waking up once a week, andimmediately going to sleep again. The Post Office counter had twobottles of ink and no pen, and the young man in charge was whistling"The Minstrel Boy. " The shop-keepers were mostly standing at theirdoors, congratulating each other on the fine weather. A long, longstreet leading uphill promised a view of the surrounding country, butthe result was not worth the trouble. It led in the direction ofArdnaree, which my Irish scholarship translates "King's Hill, " but Istopped short at the ruins of the old workhouse, and after a glanceover the domain of Captain Jones went back through the double row offairly good cottages, and the numerous clans of cocks and hens whichscratched for a precarious living on the King's highway. The peopleturned out _en masse_ to look at me, and to discuss my country, race, business, appearance, and probable income. The Connaught folks have solittle change, are so wedded to one dull round, that when I observethe interest my passage evokes I feel like a public benefactor. A bellrings at the Catholic church. Three strokes and a pause. Then threemore and another pause. A lounger on the bridge reverently raises hishat, and seeing himself observed starts like a guilty wretch upon afearful summons. I ask him what the ringing means, and with adeprecatory wag of his head he says:-- "Deed an' deed thin, I couldn't tell ye. " The Town Crier unconsciously launched me into business, and soon I wasfloating on a high tide of political declamation. What the crier criedI could not at all make out, for the accent of the Ballina folks isexceedingly full-flavoured. When he stopped I turned to a well-dressedyoung man near me and said, "He does not finish, as in England, withGod save the Queen. " "No, " said my friend with a laugh, "he has too much regard for hisskin. " "What would happen if he expressed his loyalty?" "He would be instantly rolled in the gutter. The people would be onhim in a moment. He'd be like a daisy in a bull's mouth. He might say"God save Ireland, " just to round the thing off, but "God save theQueen"! My friend was a Home Ruler, and yet unlike the rest. He said: "I am aHome Ruler because I think Home Rule inevitable now the English peoplehave given way so far. Give Paddy an inch and you may trust him totake an ell. We must have something like Home Rule to put an end tothe agitation which is destroying the country. It is now our onlychance, and in my opinion a very poor chance, but we are reduced solow that we think the bottom is touched. The various politicalagencies which have frightened away capital and entirely abolishedenterprise will continue their work until some measure of Home Rule isgiven to the country, and then things will come to a head at once. Itis barely possible that good might ultimately result, but young menwould be gray-headed before things would work smoothly. The posture ofthe poorer classes is simply absurd. They will have a dreadfulawakening, and that will also do good. They are doing nothing nowexcept waiting for the wonderful things they have been told will takeplace when Irishmen get into power. You must have heard theextraordinary things they say about the mines and factories that willbe everywhere opened. Some of their popular orators tell them of theprosperity of Ireland before the Union. That is true enough, but theconditions are totally changed. We did something in the way ofmanufacturing, but we could not do it now. We had no Germany, noAmerica to compete against. Those who tell us to revive that period ofprosperity by the same means might just as well tell us to revive thesystem of tribal lands or the chieftainship of Brian Boru. "The people need some tremendous shock to bring them to their senses. They used to work much better, to stand, as it were, on their ownfeet. Now they make little or no exertion. They know they will neverbe allowed to starve. They know that at the cry of their distressEngland and America will rush to their succour. And they have tastedthe delights of not paying. First it was the rent, the impossiblerent. In this they had a world-wide sympathy, and a very large numberof undeserving persons well able to pay chummed in with the deservingpeople who were really unable to meet their engagements. And at themeetings of farmers to decide on united action, the men who could paybut would not were always the most resolute in their opposition to thelandlord. This was natural enough, for they had most to gain bywithholding payment. The landlords always knew which was which, andwould issue ejectment processes against those able to pay, but whatcould be done against a whole county of No-rent folks? And never havethese people been without aid and sympathy from English politicians. We have had them in Ireland by the dozen, going round the farmers andencouraging them to persevere. "The great advantage of Home Rule in the eyes of the farmers is thisand this only--that an Irish House would settle the land question forever. The people would take a good bill from the House of Commons atWestminster if they could get it, but they can't. They believe thattheir only hope is with an Irish Parliament. The most intelligent arenow somewhat doubtful as to the substantial benefits to come. Theyfear heavy taxation. They say that everything must come out of theland, and they wonder whether the change would pay them after all. Onthe whole, they will risk it, and under the advice of the clergy, whohave their own little ideas, they will continue to vote for Home Rule. Throw out this bill, let Mr. Balfour settle the land question, and theagitators will not have a leg left to stand on. " All this I steadfastly believe. No farmer wants Home Rule for anythingbeyond his personal interests. Mr. Patrick Gibbons, of Carnalurgan, isone of the smartest small farmers I have met, and he confirms thestatements of his fellows. "Give the farmers the land for a reasonablerent, " said he, "and they would not care two straws for Home Rule. "The small traders admit that they would like it, as a mere matter offancy, and because they have been from time to time assured that theEnglish Parliament is the sole cause of Ireland's decadence. They areassured that an Irish Parliament by instituting immense public workswould prevent emigration, and that the people staying at home andearning money would bring custom to their shops. Nearly everybodyinsists on an exclusive system of protective tariffs. England, theysay, competes too strongly. Ireland cannot stand up to her. She mustbe kept out at any cost. According to a Ballina Nationalist this is where the "shock" will comein. He said:-- "The bill is being whittled down to nothing. Gladstone is betrayingus. It is doubtful if he ever was in earnest. 'Twould be no Home RuleBill at all, if even it was passed. An' what d'ye mane by refusing usthe right to put on whatever harbour dues we choose? An' what d'yemane by sayin' we're not to impose protective tariffs to help Irishindustries? Ye wish to say, 'Here's yer Parlimint. Ye're responsiblefor the government of the counthry, for the advancement of thecounthry, for the prosperity of the counthry; but ye mustn't do whatye think best to bring about all this. When we have a Parlimint we'lldo as _we_ choose, an' not as _you_ choose, Ye have no right todictate what we shall do, nor what we shan't do. We'll do what wethink proper, an' England must make the best of it. England has alwaysconsidered herself: now we'll consider ourselves. If we're not togovern the counthry in every way that _we_ think best, why on earthwould we want a Parlimint at all? Tell me that, now. If Ireland is tobe governed from England, if we are to have any interference, whatbetther off will we be? An' Protection is the very first cry we shallraise. " The good folks at Tuam have held an indignation meeting to protestagainst the statements contained in my Tuam letter, which theycharacterise as "vile slanders" which they wish to "hurl back in myteeth" (if any). The meeting took place in the Town Hall on Sunday, which day is usually selected by the Tuamites to protest against thebrutal Saxon, and to hold meetings of the National League, acolourable successor to the Land League. All these meetings areconvened by priests, addressed by priests, governed by priests. TheTuamites are among the most priest-ridden people in Ireland, and, after having seen Galway and Limerick, this is saying a good deal. Themeeting was from beginning to end a screaming farce, wherein languagewas used fit only for an Irish House of Commons. The vocabulary ofIrish Town Commissioners and Irish Poor Law Guardians was laid underheavy contribution. The speakers hurled at the _Gazette_ the pet termsthey usually and properly reserve for each other. The too flatteringterms which in a moment of weakness I applied to Tuam and its peopleare described as "lying, hellish, mendacious misrepresentations. "Misther MacCormack said the English people would know there was "nota wurrud of thruth in these miserable lies. " The report of the _TuamHerald_ reads like a faction fight in a whiskey-shop. You can hear thetrailing of coats, the crack of shillelaghs on thick Irish skulls, theyells of hurroosh, whirroo, and O'Donnell aboo! Towards the end yourhigh-wrought imagination can almost smell the sticking plaister, sovivid is the picture. "The bare-faced slanders of this hireling scribefrom the slums of Birmingham" were hotly denounced, but nobody saidwhat they were. The clergy and their serfs were equally silent on thispoint. I steadfastly adhere to every syllable of my Tuam letter. Ichallenge the clergy and laity combined to put their fingers on asingle assertion which is untrue, or even overstated. Let them pointout a single inaccuracy, if they can. To make sweeping statements, tosay that this "gutter-snipe, " this "hireling calumniator, " this"blackguard Birmingham man" has made a series of "reckless calumnies, ""devoid of one particle of truth, " is not sufficiently precise. Istand by every word I have uttered; I am prepared to hold my ground onevery single point. Most of my information was obtained from Catholicswho are heart-weary of priestly tyranny and priestly intimidation; whoare sufficiently enlightened to see that priestly power is based onthe ignorance of priestly dupes, that priestly influence is the realslavery of Ireland, the abject condition of the poor is itsunmistakable result, and that where there are priests in Ireland thereare ignorance and dirt in exact proportion. They have compared theclean cottages of the North with the filthy hovels of the South, andthey have drawn their own conclusions. But to descend to detail. Whatdo the Tuamites deny? "Not a particle of truth in the whole letter!"Father Humphreys said my Tipperary letter was "a pure invention, "without a syllable of truth. Since then Father Humphreys has beencompelled to admit, in writing, that all I said was true, and that he"could not have believed it possible. " That was his apology. Turning to the Tuam letter, I find these words-- "The educated Catholics are excellent people--none better anywhere, none more tolerant. " This is construed into "a gross insult on ourholy priests, and particularly on our Archbishop, " who, by the way, was not mentioned or made the subject of any allusion, however remote. Do the Tuamites deny that "many of the streets are wretchedly built, "and "the Galway road shows how easily the Catholic poor aresatisfied?" Do they deny that the cabins in this district are"aboriginal in build, and also indescribably filthy, " and that "thecondition of the inmates is not one whit higher than that obtaining inthe wigwams of the native Americans?" Do they deny that "the hoodedwomen, barefooted, bronzed, and tanned by constant exposure, arewonderfully like the squaws brought from the Far West by BuffaloBill?" All this I reiterate and firmly maintain, with the addition of thestatement that the squaws were in a condition of compulsorycleanliness the like of which seems never to be attained by the ladiesof the Galway Road, Tuam. The meeting is called a "monster" meeting. How many people does the Tuam Town Hall hold? The fact is that theTown Hall of Tuam, with the entire population of Tuam thrown in, couldbe put into the Town Hall of Birmingham. Do the Tuamites deny that Mr. Strachan, one of their most worthy citizens, is unable to walk thestreets of the town wherein live the people he has benefited, withouta guard of policemen to protect him from the cut-throat emissaries ofthe Land League? So it was when I visited Tuam, Mr. Strachan's crimesbeing the purchase of a farm in the Land Court and his Protestantcreed. Do they deny the scenes of persecution I described as havingtaken place in former days? All this I had from a source more reliablethan the whole Papist hierarchy. The Tuamites can deny nothing of whatI have written. The tumbledown town is there, the filthy cabins anddegraded squaws of the Galway Road are still festering in their ownputridity, and probably the police are still preserving Strachan fromthe fate of the poor fellow so brutally murdered near Tuam a few weeksago. The priests called a town meeting to protest against insult tothe Church. Great is Diana of the Ephesians! When the tenants refusedto pay their lawful dues the priests called no meeting. When thecountry from end to end echoed with the lamentations of widows and thewailing of helpless children whose natural protectors had beenmurdered by the Land League, the Tuamites suppressed theirindignation, the Tuam priests made no protest. When scores of men werebutchered at their own firesides, shot in their beds, battered topieces at their own thresholds, these virtuous sacerdotalists neversaid a word, called no town's meeting, used no bad language, spoke notof "hirelings, " "calumniators, " "blackguards, " and "liars. " Two of thespeakers threatened personal injury should I again visit the town. That is their usual form, --kicking, bludgeoning, outraging, orshooting from behind a wall. When they do not shoot they come on inherds, like wild buffaloes, to trample on and mutilate their victim. From the strong or armed they run like hares. Their fleetness of footis astonishing. The _Tuam News_, owned and edited by the brother of apriest, exhibits the intellectual status of the Tuam people. Let usquote it once again:-- TO THE EDITOR OF THE "TUAM NEWS. " Sir--Permit me a little space in the next issue of the _Tuam News_, relative to my father being killed by the fairies which appeared in the _Tuam News_ of the 8th of April last. I beg to say that he was not killed by the fairies, but I say he was killed by some person or persons unknown as yet. Hoping very soon that the perpetrators of this dastardly outrage will be soon brought to light, I am, Mr. Editor, yours obediently, DAVID REDINGTON. Kilcreevanty, May 8th, '93. After this I need add nothing to what I have said except apronouncement of Father Curran, who said that "Tuam could boast asfine schools as Birmingham, and that he would then and there throwout a challenge that they boast more intelligence in Tuam thanBirmingham could afford. " Poor Father Curran! Poor Tuam! Poor Tuamiteswith their rags, pigs, filth, priests, fairies, and Intelligence! Ishall visit them once more. A few photographs from the Galway Roadwould settle the dispute, and render null and void all future Town'smeetings. They have sworn to slay me, but in visiting their town Ifear nothing but vermin and typhoid fever. Their threats affect menot. As one of their own townsmen remarked, -- "You cannot believe a word they say. They never speak the truth exceptwhen they call each other liars. And when they are in fear, althoughtoo lazy to work, they are never too lazy to run. They have noindependence of thought or action. Their religion crushes all manhoodout of them. They are the obedient servants of the priests, and no mandare say his soul's his own. Any one who did not attend that meetingwould be a marked man, but if it had been limited to people who knowthe use of soap it would necessarily have been small, even for theTuam Town Hall. " Everywhere in Connaught I hear the people saying, "When you want toroast an Irishman you can always find another Irishman to turn thespit. " Thrue for ye, ma bouchal! Ballina, June 10th. No. 34. --WHY IRELAND DOES NOT PROSPER. A community of small farmers with a sprinkling of resident gentry. Allsorts of land within a small compass, rock, bog, tillage, andexcellent grazing. The churchyard is a striking feature. A ruinedoratory covered with ivy is surrounded by tombstones and othermortuary memorials strange to the Saxon eye. The graves are dug eastand west on a rugged mound hardly deserving to be called a hill, although here and there steep enough. Huge masses of sterile mountainform the background, and from the ruin the Atlantic is seen, gleamingin the sun. Patches of bog with diggers of turf, are close by theuntouched portions covered with white bog-bean blooms, which at ashort distance look like a snowfall. On a neighbouring hill is a fineold Danish earthwork, a fort, called by the natives "The Rath, " fiftyyards in diameter, the grassy walls, some ten feet high and four yardsthick, reared in a perfect circle, on which grow gorse and brambles. The graveyard is sadly neglected. Costly Irish crosses with elaboratecarving stand in a wilderness of nettles and long grass. Not asemblance of a path anywhere. To walk about is positively dangerous. Ruined tombstones, and broken slabs which appear to cover familyvaults, trip you up at every step. Every yard of progress is made withdifficulty, and you move nervously among the tall rank nettles inmomentary fear of dislocating your ankle, or of being suddenlyprecipitated into the reeking charnel house of some defunct Mayofamily. The Connaught dead seem to be very exclusive. Most of theground is enclosed in small squares, each having a low stone wall, half-a-yard thick, with what looks like the gable-end of a stonecottage at the west end. Seen from a distance the churchyard lookslike a ruined village. At first sight you think the place a relic ofsome former age, tenanted by the long-forgotten dead, but a closerinspection proves interments almost up to date. Weird memorials of theolden time stand cheek by jowl with modern monuments of marble; andtwo of suspiciously Black Country physiognomy are of cast-iron, withI. H. S. And a crucifix all correctly moulded, the outlines paintedvermilion, with an invitation to pray for the souls of the dead in thesame effective colour. The graveyard shows no end of prayer, butabsolutely no work. No tidiness, order, reverence, decency, orconvenience. Nothing but ruin, neglect, disorder, untidiness, irreverence, and inconvenience. _Ora et labora_ is an excellentproverb which the Irish people have not yet mastered in its entirety. To pray _and_ work is as yet a little too much for them. They stop atthe first word, look round, and think they have done all. Thisgraveyard displays the national character. Heaps of piety, but noexertion. Any amount of talk, but no work. More than any people, theIrish affect respect for their dead. You leave the graveyard ofOughewall smarting with nettle stings, and thankful that you have notbroken your neck. The place will doubtless be tidied, the nettlesmowed down and pathways made, when the people get Home Rule. They areclearly waiting for something. They wish to be freed from the cruelEnglish yoke. When this operation is happily effected, they will cleantheir houses, move the dunghills from their doors, wash themselves, and go to work in earnest. The Spanish Queen vowed she would neverwash herself till Gibraltar was retaken from the English. Sevenhundred years ago the Irish nation must have made a similar vow--andkept it. A passing shower drove me to the shelter of a neighbouring farmhouse, where lived a farmer, his wife, and their son and daughter. The placewas poor but tolerable, the wife being far above the Irish average. Theliving room, about ten feet square, was paved with irregularly-shapedstones of all sizes, not particularly flat, but in places decidedlyhumpy; the interstices were of earth, the whole swept fairly clean, butcertainly not scrubbed. The rafters, of rough wood, were painted black, and a rough ladder-like stair, open at the sides, led to the upperregions. To have an upstairs is to be an aristocrat. The standard ofluxury is much lower than in England, for almost any Englishagricultural labourer would have better furniture than that possessedby this well-to-do but discontented farmer. An oak cupboard like awardrobe, a round deal table, and four rough rush-bottomed chairs ofunstained wood comprised the paraphernalia. The kitchen dresser, thatindispensable requisite of English farm kitchens, with its rows ofplates and dishes, was nowhere to be seen. The turf fire on the hearthneeded no stove nor grate, nor was there any in the house. A secondroom on the ground floor, used as a bed room, had a boarded floor, andalthough to English notions bare and bald, having no carpet, pictures, dressing table, or washstand, it was clean and inoffensive. Thechurning and dairy operations are carried on in the room firstdescribed, where also the ducks and hens do feed. The farmer holdsfifty acres of good land, for which he pays fifty pounds a year. Hisfather, who died thirty years ago, paid twenty-four pounds, which hethinks a fair rent to-day. Has not made application to the Court, although he _might_ benefit by twenty-five to thirty-five per cent. Isaware that the Judicial Rent is sometimes fixed at a sum above what thetenant had been paying, and admits that this might happen to him. "Yes, the land round the house is very good, very good indeed, but what canbe seen from here is by far the best of it. That is always the way inthis world, the best at the front. " From this and other remarks of like tendency I gather that the noblelandlord is in the habit of placing all the best land of his estatealong the high read, concealing the boggy, rocky portions in theremote interior, fraudulently imposing on the public, and alienatingsympathy from the tenant, thereby inflicting another injustice onIreland. "The English laws are right enough, as far as they go, " said thefarmer, "but the English will not do the right thing about the land. Now we know that an Irish Parliament will settle the matterforth-with. That's why we support Home Rule. We know the opinions ofthe men who now represent us, and we can trust them in this matter ifin no other. The land is the whole of it. If that were once put on anunchangeable bottom I would rather be without Home Rule. Some say thateven if our rents are reduced by one-half, the increased taxes we mustpay would make us nearly as poor as ever, and that all this bother anddisturbance would not really save us a penny piece. And I think thismight be true. So that if something could be done by the EnglishParliament I should prefer it to come that way. And so would we all, ahundred times. For with the English Parliament we know where we are, and what we're doing. I'm not one to believe that the land will behanded over to us without payment. Plenty of them are ignorant enoughto believe even that. My view is just this: If the English Parliamentwould settle the land question, I would prefer to do without an IrishParliament. That's what all the best farmers say, and nothing else. No, I wouldn't invest money in Ireland. No, I wouldn't trust the bulkof the present members for Ireland. Yes, I would prefer a morerespectable class of men who had a stake in the country. But we had totake what we could catch, for people who have a stake in the countryare all against Home Rule. What could we do? We had no choice. We sentHome Rulers because an Irish Parliament is pledged to meet our viewsabout the land. We know they will fulfil their pledges, not becausethey have promised, nor because they wish to benefit us, but becausethey wish to abolish landlordism and landlords from the country. Thelandlord interest is English interest, and that they want to get ridof. Their reasons for settling the land question are not the farmers'reasons, but so long as it _is_ settled the farmer will reap thebenefit, and will not care _why_ it was settled. Give us compulsorysale and compulsory purchase, at a fair price, and you will find thefarmers nearly all voting against Home Rule. No, the priests would notbe able to stir us once we were comfortably settled. Why, we'd allbecome Conservatives at once. Sure anybody with half-an-eye could seethat in a pitch-dark night in a bog-hole. " My friend assured me that secret societies are unknown in Mayo, or atany rate, in the Westport district. The young men of Clare, hethought, were Fenians to a man. "They are queer, blood-thirsty folks, enemies to Ireland. Why, they object to other Irishmen. They will notallow a poor fellow from another county to work among them as aharvest-man. They would warn him off, and if he would not go, they'dbeat him with sticks, and when once they begin, you never know wherethey'll stop. They should be put down with a strong hand. " But where is the strong hand? Mr. Morley, recently replying to Mr. Arnold Forster, said that "it was admitted that the police wereworking as faithfully and as energetically under the present as underthe late Government, and added that the authorities concerned weretaking all the steps which experience and responsibility suggested. "Mr. Morley is right in attributing faithfulness to the police, andtheir energy is doubtless all that can be reasonably expected undervery discouraging auspices. Mr. Morley speaks more highly of thepolice than the police speak of Mr. Morley. From Donegal to BantryBay, from Dublin to Galway and Westport, north, south, east, west, right, left, and centre, the police of Ireland condemn Mr. Morley'sadministration as feeble, vacillating, and as likely to encouragecrime. They speak of their duties in despondent tones. I have fromtime to time given their sentiments, which are unvarying. They knownot what to do, and complain that while they continue to be heldresponsible they dare not follow up their duties with the requisiteenergy. Only yesterday an experienced officer said:--"The men aredisheartened because they do not know how their action will be taken, and because they feel that anything in the nature of enterprise isvery likely to injure themselves individually. They feel that in thematter of arrests it is better to be on the safe side, and then theyknow how unavailing all their efforts must be in the disturbeddistricts of Kerry, Clare, and Limerick, where the arm of the law hasbeen paralysed by Mr. Morley's rescision of the salutary provisions sonecessary in those counties. Outrages and shooting are every-dayoccurrences, for many cases are never reported to the police at all. If the police caught the criminals in the act there would be noresult, for the juries of those three counties would not convict, andthe venue cannot now be changed to Cork. "Some of the Nationalist members were the other day asking in theHouse whether the Cork magistrates had not been presented with whitegloves, and so on, to bring out the fact that there was no crime topunish on a recent occasion; but what does this prove? Merely that Mr. Balfour's action in changing the venue of three counties to the cityof Cork, where moonlighters are tried by a jury of independent tradersof Patrick Street was wise and sagacious. The white gloves of Corkwere a tribute to Tory administration. The Cork juries convicted theirmen, and stood by the consequences. They have escaped so far, as allbold men escape. If the Limerick moonlighters must have been tried inCork there would have been no moonlighting. The police can alwayscatch them, when there is any use in catching them. In countrydistricts the movements of people are pretty well known, and thesefellows are always ready to betray each other. Mr. Morley may talkfine, and may mean well, but the people who have been riddled withshot have Mr. Morley to thank. Of course he is under compulsion. Hehas to please the Irish Separatists. Old women and children areoutraged and shot in the legs because of Mr. Morley's politicalnecessities. " I think my friend was right as to the effect of boldness in action. There is too much truckling to the ruffian element, not only by Mr. Morley, but by most Unionists resident in Ireland. Opinions on thispoint vary with varying circumstances. Several shopkeepers in a Mayotown were utterly ruined for expressing their political opinions, orfor being suspected of harbouring opinions contrary to the feeling ofthe majority. They were boycotted, and had to shut up shop. Others, older-established, or in possession of a monopoly, weathered thestorm, but their opinions cost them something. These are the mildercases. Yet shooting or bludgeoning are likely enough to follow overtpolitical action, such as refusing to join a procession or toilluminate. It was hard to find a Protestant farmer in this district, but Isucceeded at last. His notions were strange, very strange indeed. Hethought his rent fair enough, and was of opinion that the tenant mustbe prepared to take the good years with the bad years. "Thesecountrymen of mine, like somebody I've read of, never learn anythingand never forget anything. They do not half farm the land. They don'tunderstand any but the most elementary methods. They do not put theland to its best use. When they had prosperous years, and many a onethey had, they put nothing by for a rainy day. They are veryimprovident. I have been in both England and Scotland, and I know thedifference in the people. They have more self-reliance, and they arekeen after improvements. They are not satisfied to have just enough, to live from hand to mouth. They must have comfort, and they like tobe independent. Now, Paddy is content to just scrape along. If he canbarely exist he's quite satisfied. He's always on the edge of thenest, but he feels sure that when the worst comes to the worst, somebody or something will step in and save him from starvation. "Nearly every man in this county has been in England, many of themtwenty times or more, working for months and months in the best farmeddistricts. Have they got any wrinkles? Divil a one. They have notplanted a gooseberry or currant tree, they have no pot-herbs, nocarrots or parsnips--nothing at all but potatoes and turnips. Thefarmers have no system of winter feeding, and they won't learn one. There is a great and growing demand in England for Irish butter, which, properly put up in a tasty way, would fetch fine figures, butthe lack of system in winter feeding and winter calving prevents thesupply from being kept up. The farmers will make no change in theirhabits, and they don't work as if they meant it. They lounge about allday, waiting for the crops to grow and the cattle to get fat, and thenthey wonder they are so poor. The only hope of the Irish people istheir absorption in America. They work well enough when surrounded bynew influences. Once get them away from the priests, and away they go;you can't stop them. They have great natural abilities, but somehowthey won't bloom in Ireland. If they put forth the same energy inIreland as in America they would do well. But they never will. Theirreligion keeps them down, and they can't get out of their old habits. " I observed that the Earl of Sligo had obtained eighty-two decrees ofpossession against tenants for non-payment of rent, and that the _MayoNews_, while censuring his action, admitted that most of the tenantsowed two years' rent at least. My Black Protestant friend might tellme whether the heading "Another Batch of Death Sentences" was a fairdescription of this legal action, and whether the tenants were, in hisopinion, totally unable to pay the rent. "To call them sentences of death is absurd, The people are not evictedand left homeless, but merely deprived of their rights as tenants. InEngland, if a man does not pay his rent, he is thrown out, and nobodysays Nay. In Ireland a man may pay no rent for seven years, and yet, when he is evicted, the people cry Shame on the landlord, who, in mostcases, has been patient to the limit of human endurance. The landlordhas watched the tenant neglecting the land, and living moreexpensively on the money he ought to have paid as rent. Now, let mesubmit a point which never seems to strike the English Unionistspeakers. And yet it is plain enough. The Separatists say evictionsare cruel and tyrannical because the people cannot pay the awful, exorbitant rents. Now notice my point! "A rent may be too high, but the land must be worth _something_. Nowthese people have paid _nothing at all for two years or more_. "Talk to these defaulters, and they will usually say 'The land isworth just one-half. ' "Why don't they pay that half? "Then they would be only one year behind, instead of two, and theywould get no notice to quit. "But instead of paying the one-half which they themselves say the landis worth, they pay nothing at all. Does that look honest? Does it lookgenuine? Don't you think anybody could see that they are takingadvantage of the unsettled state of things to avoid any paymentwhatever? They await Home Rule, which is to give them the land, andthey are anticipating its advantages. "They all know Hennessy's brandy, and can tell you the differencebetween the one-star and the three-star brands. "In England everybody is at work. In Ireland most are at play. A manwho has been taught to work in England feels inclined to follow themup here with a whip, they look so idle even when at work. They moveabout as if half-dead. They are as lazy as Lambert's dog, that leanedhis head against the wall to bark. The young women won't work either. My sister in Athlone is obliged to give her servants three nights aweek off from five to ten, or she could have nobody. Then they arealways going to mass or keeping some festival of the Church. Speak aword of reproof and away they go. They are as proud as Lambert's otherdog, that took the wall of a muck-cart and got squelched for hispains. "Home Rule would never do Ireland any good. Quite the contrary. Whatcan do a man good who tries to get his dinner by standing about andsaying how hungry he is? "As to the agitators, they will always agitate. When one source isdried up they'll invent another. They have their living to get, andagitation is their trade. And a paying trade it is. Are they disloyalto England? I believe them Fenians at heart--that is, Fenians in thematter of loyalty. They would use any power they might get to damageEngland, and if England gives them power she'll bitterly rue the day. Paddy may be lazy, but put your finger in his mouth and he'll bite. The English Separatists don't see this, but when I see the fox in thehen-roost I can guess what brought him there. If I put the cat in thedairy I should expect her to taste the cream. Trust the IrishNationalist members! I'd as soon trust a pack of wolves with mylambs. " My friend is a scientific gardener, and descanted on the wonderfulclimate of Ireland, where plants that will not grow in England nourishluxuriously. I told him I had seen bamboo growing in the open air atDundalk, and asked him if the Bonds of Brotherhood (_HumbugisMorleyensis_) or the Union of Hearts (_Gladstonia gammonicagigantica_) would come to perfection in Hibernia. He thought the soiland climate unsuitable, and was sure they would never take root. The_gammonica_ had been tried, but it withered and died. It could not be"budded" for want of an Irish "stock. " A scrap-book, fifty years old, revealed a condition of things sostrangely like that of the present day that I obtained permission tocopy the following skit, which, but for the mention of the old convictcolony, might have been written last week. It is headed "Extract fromthe forthcoming history of the Irish Parliament. " The Home Ruleproject is therefore ancient enough:-- One blow and Ireland sprang from the head of her Saxon enslaver like a new Minerva! Proudly and solemnly she then sat down to frame a Republic worthy of Plato and Pat. Her first President had been a workhouse porter, who was also a night watchman. He was, therefore, eminently fitted for both civil and military administration. The speech of President Pat on opening Congress developes his policy and his well-digested plans of legislative reform. Here are a few quotations:-- The Key-stone of Government is the Blarney-stone. Political progress may always be accelerated by a bludgeon. Our institutions must be consolidated by soft-soap and whacks. The People's will is made known by manifesto, and by many fists too. Every man shall be qualified to sit in Congress that is a ten-pound pig-holder, provided that the pig and the member sleep under the same roof. Members of Congress will be paid for their services. Gentlemen wearing gloves only to have the privilege of shaking the President's hand. The unwashed members to be paid at the door. Pipes will not be allowed on the Opposition benches, nor may any member take whiskey until challenged by the President. Under no circumstances will a member be suffered to sit with his blunderbuss at full cock, nor pointed at the President's ear. Our Ambassadors will be chosen from our most meritorious postmen, so that they may have no difficulty in reading their letters. The Foreign Office will be presided over by a patriotic editor who has travelled in New South Wales and is thoroughly conversant with the language. Instead of bulwarks, the island will be fortified with Irish Bulls, our engineers being of opinion that no other horn-works are so efficient. To prevent heartburnings between Landlord and Tenant, a Government collector of rents shall be appointed, and Tenant-right shall include a power to shoot over the land and at anyone on it. And this was written half-a-century ago. It reads like yesterday! Oughewall, June 10th. No. 35. --IN A CONGESTED DISTRICT. This is the first station on the Balfour line which is to run fromWestport to Achil Sound--now in process of construction by Mr. RobertWorthington, the great Dublin contractor, who has built about amillion pounds' worth of Irish railway, and who is of opinion thatHome Rule means the bankruptcy of Ireland, and that the labouringpopulation of the country would by it be compelled to emigrate toEngland, bringing their newly-acquired skill as railway workers intocompetition with the navvies and general working population. The sevenmiles of line between here and Westport are not yet packed andballasted, and the ride hither on an engine kindly placed at thedisposal of the _Gazette_, was not lacking in pleasurable excitement. The bogey engine kicked and winced and bucked and cavorted in afashion unique in my experience. She seemed to be exhilarated by thepure mountain air, charged with ozone from the Atlantic main. Watchingher little eccentricities, it was hard to believe her not endued withanimal vitality. She walked the railway like a thing of life. Sheducked and dived and plunged and snorted and reared and jibbed like averitable cocktailed nag of the true old Irish breed. Sometimes sheseemed to go from under you as she suddenly dipped into a slightdepression. Sometimes she rolled like a ship at sea, and you began towonder if sea-sickness were possible on land. The scenery is notstriking, and the surrounding country, though poor and desolate, is byno means sterile. No tracts of black bog, no impassable morasses, nomiles of rocks and boulders, but a fairly good grazing country, withhere and there, at long intervals, a white cottage. The engine slowsat one point, where the rails are twisted into serpentine convolutionsby yesterday's tropical heat. Both sides are considerably displaced, but they still bear the right relation to each other, and the faithfulmachine, sniffing and picking her way carefully, glides safely overthe contorted path. A short tunnel, with sides of solid masonry androof-arch of brick, again demands extra care, and it is well that thepace is slowed, for half-way through, a man becomes dimly visiblerunning a trolley off the line. Mountains arise on the left and infront, and my old friend Croagh Patrick puts in his Nationalistappearance. Then Newport heaves in sight, a cemetery on high groundopposite the site of the station, and overhanging the line, kept inits place by an immense retaining wall, without which the "rudeforefathers of the hamlet" would fall from their narrow cells andblock the progress of the civilising train. A handsome viaduct endsthe run, _finis coronat opus_, and I walk a hundred yards to see theawkward spot which at first seemed to have no bottom, but which energyand industry have conquered, as they conquer everything. The line wasgoing on happily until this point was reached, when a soft bog wasbroached, which threatened to swallow everything, opening itscavernous jaws with appetite which long seemed insatiable. Theengineer choked it off with a hundred thousand cubic yards of earth, aquantity which to the untechnical ear sounds like a little kingdom, orat least like a decent farm, and the bog cried, Hold! enough. Thetotal length of the line will be twenty-six-and-a-half miles, thecost, exclusive of the permanent way, which is an extra of some £1, 800a mile, being £110, 000, most of which is dispensed among the labourersof the district, who thank the Balfour Administration for a great workwhich would never have been undertaken as a merely commercialspeculation. The congested areas here, as elsewhere, have beenpowerfully assisted and benefited by the sagacity which at onceafforded relief, improved the country, and opened the way to greatmarkets. Temporary assistance is succeeded by a solid and permanentbenefaction. And still the people are not happy. Most of them are rather below theIrish average. Their isolated position in the extreme west, and theirwant of means of communication, may partly account for this. Few eversee a newspaper, and when they do they only read stuff concocted forthem by unscrupulous people who write down to their level, anddeliberately endeavour to keep them in total darkness. The menemployed on the line work well, and Mr. William Ross, civil engineer, tells me they are even better workers than the Galway men, to whom Igave due credit for industry. The townsfolk are great politicians. That is, they echo the absurdities they hear, and are ready to believeanything, provided it is unlikely enough. The country papers ofIreland are poor and illiterate beyond belief, but their assumption ofknowledge and superior information is amazing. One of the Galway ragsrecently treated its readers to a confidential communication havingreference to the real sentiments of Lord Salisbury and Mr. Balfour asopposed to those ostensibly affected by those statesmen and to thosewith which they are popularly credited. Lord Salisbury is really dyingfor Home Rule, and Mr. Balfour would depart in peace if he could oncebehold a Dublin Parliament bossed by Tim Healy and William O'Brien. Lord Salisbury is not so bad as he seems, nor is Balfour altogetherbeyond hope of salvation. Both are under a kind of Tory terrorismwhich makes them say the thing that is not, compels them against theirwishes to fight, forces them reluctantly to make a show of opposition. But both of them wink the other eye and have doubtless unbosomedthemselves--in strict confidence--to the editor of the Galway paper. The poor folks of Ireland swallow this stuff, and will quote itgravely in argument. The _Irish Catholic_ has a large circulation, anda glance over its columns, particularly its advertising columns, ishighly suggestive at the present juncture. People offer to swopprayers, just as in _Exchange and Mart_ people wish to barter a pethedgehog for a lop-eared rabbit, or a cracked china cup for a goldwatch and chain. Gentleman wishes someone to say fifteen Hail Marysevery morning at eight o'clock for a week, while he, in return, willknock off a similar number of some other good things. The trade inmasses is surprising. For a certain sum you get one mass a week for ayear, for a higher figure you get two masses a week _and_ anoleograph, for a trifle more you get mentioned in special prayers forbenefactors, with a rosary that has touched the relics ofThomas-a-Becket or has been laid on the shrine of Blessed Thomas More. One advertisement sets forth the proviso that unless the payment isregular the supplications will be stopped. No pay, no prayer. _Pointd'argent, point de prêtre. _ Prayers and advice, political orotherwise, at lowest terms for cash. No discount allowed. A reductionon taking a quantity. A very knowing Newport man explained the present political position. "'Tis as simple as Ah, Bay, Say. Parnell wint over to France an'Amerikay, an' explained to thim how the English was oppressin' andruinin' the poor Irish people; an' whin the Saxon seen he was foundout, an' whin the Americans sent thousands an' thousands of pounds topay the cliverist men in Ireland to fight the English in Parlimint, thin the English begun to give us back part of what they robbed us of. Every bite ye get in England manes that much less in an Irish mouth, an' the counthry is all starvin' becase England is fattenin'. All theyoung folks is gone out of the counthry; an' why did they go? BecaseEngland makes the laws, an' becase she makes the laws to suit herself, an' to ruin us. Sure nine-tenths of the land is owned by Englishmen, who make us pay twice, aye, an' four times the rint the land is worth;an' that's what England thinks us good for, an' nothin' else. We'rejust slaves to the Saxon, as many's the time I heard the priest sayin'it. An' it was thrue for him. Sure, the counthry is full of coal, an'if we wor allowed to get it we'd be as rich as England in five years. Sure, Lord Sligo's estate is made of coal, an' although he's aConservative, an' a Unionist, an' a Protestant, the English Parlimintwouldn't allow him to get it because it was in Ireland, an' they worafraid the Irish would get betther off. An' sure they want to keep uspaupers, so that we'll be compelled to 'list for sojers, an' fight forEngland against Rooshia and Prooshia, an' Injy, an' foreign parts, that the English is afraid to do for themselves. " His opinions are not below the intellectual average of those held bythe majority of the Irish electorate. The ignorance of the rank andfile of the Irish voters is exasperating to Englishmen, who are quiteunable to understand their credulity, to combat their bitterprejudices, or to make headway against their preconceived notions. English Gladstonians who believe that Home Rule ought to be a goodthing will stagger with dismay when confronted with the people whowill rule the roost. For the intelligent are nowhere in point ofnumbers. The thick-witted believers in charms, in fairies, in thecurative and preservative virtues of holy water, will have the countryin their hands. The poor benighted peasants, who firmly believe thatMr. Balfour has the moonlighters in his pay, and that the murders ofthe Land League were ordered by Lord Salisbury to cast discredit onthe national cause--these are the people who, voting as they are toldby the priests, would govern the action of the Irish Parliament. Theybelieve that Home Rule by some magic process will supply the place ofindustry and enterprise, will open up innumerable sources of boundlesswealth, and will bring about Mr. Gladstone's "chronic plethora" ofmoney. But, above all, the people are to be for ever delivered fromthe "English yoke. " What the phrase means they know not. They onlyrepeat what they have heard. The dogs around Newport are muzzled. Itwould be well for the people if their advisers were muzzled too. Public feeling is well organised in Ireland. Although the people arenot readers of daily news, the kind of sentiment ordered athead-quarters is immediately entertained. How it spreads nobody knows, unless it is spread from the altar. A change has come over the publicsentiment. Among the more intelligent farmers there is a revoltagainst Home Rule. At a Unionist meeting held the other day atAthenry, all the speakers agreed on this point. One said that thechange might be inoperative, because the farmers dare not avow theirtrue opinions, because they have little or no faith in the secrecy ofthe ballot, and because they dread the unknown consequences of ruffianvengeance. The ignorant masses have also experienced a change. Theyhave been undergoing a process of preparation for the next agitation. The poor folks at first believed that when they got Home Rule allwould be well. That consummation devoutly to be wished, was to enrichthem all. The agitators have to guard against the resentment of thedisappointed people. They are hedging industriously. If Home Ruleshould come it will do no good, because it is not the right brand. John Bull has spoilt it all, as he spoils everything. Home Rule wouldhave done all they promised, but this is not the Home Rule they meant!They took it at first as a small instalment of what they wouldafterwards kick out of the Saxon, but those outrageous Unionists haveshaved it down to almost nothing. It is not worth having, and the onlything to do, say some Newport politicians, is for the IrishNationalist party to rise in a body an' lave the House, an' not put afut back into it till they get what they want. I wish my Newportfriends could make their counsel prevail. The latest phase of feeling, then, is an affected indignation at thissupreme treachery of the English people. Over and over again I havequoted the opinions of people who said Mr. Gladstone meant to hoaxIreland again. This was when all seemed to be going quite smoothly. The Government concessions and the moderate use of the closure haveconvinced the doubters that they were right, and they breathe battleand slaughter. Irishmen like fighting debates, decided measures, tremendously hard hitting. As a people they do not believe inconstitutional agitation. They would prefer sudden revolutions, cannons roaring, blood and thunder. They openly avow their preference, and say that this would have been their method, but that England haselaborately disarmed the country, which declaration clashes with thepopular opinion, often exultantly expressed, that Ireland is full ofarms. The truth is with the revolutionaries, who would certainlyprefer battle but for its well-known danger. If Ireland could be freedby moonlighters firing at long ranges from behind stone walls, with aninaccessible retreat within easy reach, the English yoke would havebut a short shrift. A frantic Newporter said:--"We never got anything by love, but alwaysby fear, and compulsion should be our motto. I've no patience wid thimthat'll stand hat in hand, or be going down on their knees to Englandfor every bit an' sup. John Mitchel an' James Stephens was the onlymen of modern times who properly understood how to manage the English. Of coorse, Parnell did something to advance the cause, an' 'tis thruethat he had no revolution nor insurrection of the old sort. But theLand League was arranged to include all the secret associations and tomake use of thim all. Ye had Whiteboys, an' Fenians an' Ribbonmen aginye, an' ye can't say but what the secret societies did the business, an' not what they call the constitutional agitation. Ye might havetalked to the English Parlimint till doomsday an' ye'd not make itmove a hair's-breadth for Ireland. But follow up yer talk wid a bit ofshootin' an' then ye'll see what ye will see. 'Twas very bad, an' noman could agree wid it; but it did what no talkin' would ever havedone. Compulsion is the right idea. An' what about dynamite? If yelook properly at the thing, why wouldn't we use dynamite? Haven't we aright to do as _we_ choose in Ireland? Ought not the Irish people tobe masters of Ireland? We say clear out--lave us to ourselves, takeaway yer landlords, yer sojers, yer police, an' _thin_ we'll not haverecoorse to dynamite. We have a right to free ourselves by any meansthat comes handy. All's fair in love an' war. No, I'm not sayin' thatI'd do it meself personally. But whin ye come to look into it, whywouldn't we be justified in usin' dynamite? Ye pitched shells intoAlexandria whin it suited ye. Why wouldn't we blow up London widdynamite, if it suited us?" The Newport people have not heard of the Union of Hearts. A decent oldman who was trying to sell home-spun tweed of his own making, said:--"The English has been hittin' us for many a year, but whin wegit Home Rule we'll be able to hit thim back. God spare me to see thatday!" And he raised his hat, just as the people mentioned by Mr. A. M. Sullivan, M. P. , "raised their hats reverentially" when they heard thata landlord or agent was shot. Whenever I hear a friendly sentiment, afriendly wish, a friendly aspiration in connection with England fromthe lips of any Nationalist I will gladly record it, if possible, inletters of gold. I do not expect this to happen. Speakers who attackEngland are most popular. The more unscrupulous and violent they are, the better their reception. Nationalist M. P. 's who in England havespoken well of Mr. Gladstone or of the English people are sharplyhauled over the coals. The fighting men are the patriot's glory. TheIrish people believe that the introduction of a Home Rule Bill is dueto the action of their bullies, rather than to the persuasive argumentof their civilised men. A very small minority desire to give John Bullsome credit for fair play, an opinion hotly resented by the mob. "Ah, now, listen to me, thin. " "Sure, I'm lookin' at ye. " "Don't I know we bate the Bill out of Bull. " "An' how would ye know, at all, at all?" "How would I know, is it? D'ye take me for a fool?" "Arrah, thin, sure I would not judge ye by yer looks!" That is a model bar spar, the combatants drinking dog's-nose, sometimes called "powdher an' ball"--a drink of neat whiskey washeddown by a pot of porter. The Connaught folk drink whiskey neat, butusually follow the spirit with water. They take up both glasses atonce, and after a loving sniff at the poteen they pour it slowly down, the shebeen stuff tasting like a torchlight procession. Then theyhastily toss off the water, making a wry face, and mostly addressingto the despised fluid the remark-- "Ye'll find IT gone on before!" The desperate appeal of the Parnellite party for funds has evoked muchmerriment among Irish Unionists, and much burning scorn fromanti-Parnellites--who themselves have much need of the money. A youngfriend has sent me the following parody, adapted from an old andwell-known, melody:-- The patriot came down like a wolf on the fold, And all that he asked was their silver and gold; And he pocketed all that he got, as his fee, From the shores of the Liffey to rocky Tralee. Tho' Pat looked as naked and bleak as his soil, Yet there stood the patriot to sack up the spoil. And from parish to parish the box went its rounds-- If we give you our speeches you must give us your pounds. The coming golden time is neatly hinted at. Home Rule will pay forall:-- When it comes, you no longer shall lie in a ditch, Every beggar among you at once shall be rich; The hedger and ditcher shall have an estate, And drive his four horses, and dine off his plate. What! you won't? And your champion in want of a meal, With his coat out at elbows, his shoes down at heel; With his heart all as black as his speeches in print! Boys, I know what you'll do: you'll just keep back the Rint. Now down with your cash, never think of the jail, For Erin's true patriots the Virgin is bail; She'll rain down bank notes till the bailiff is blind-- Still you're slack! Then I'll tell you a piece of my mind. The priest is invoked to compel unwilling subscribers:-- Would you like to be sent, in the shape of a ghost, To be pokered by demons and browned like a toast? Or be hung in a blaze with a hook in your backs, Till you all melt away like a cake of bees'-wax? Would you like to be pitchforked down headlong to Limbo, With the Pope standing by with his two arms akimbo? No matter who starves, plank down on the spot, Pounds, shillings, and pence; we'll take all that you've got. The poem breathes the true spirit of Separatism-cum-Sacerdotalism. Newport (Co. Mayo), June 15th. No. 36. --IRISH IMPROVIDENCE THE STUMBLING BLOCK. The further journey from Newport to Mulranney on the _Gazette_ specialengine was yesterday delayed for a few hours by the announcement thatduring the night part of the line had sunk into a bog--a circumstancewhich might have seemed unusual and ominous to English engineers, butwhich Mr. Lionel Vaughan Bennett regarded as a mere matter of dailyroutine, hardly worth more than a passing mention. There was nothingfor it but to take another walk round Newport, and after furtheradmiring the great wall holding up the embankment opposite thestation--a colossal work executed under great difficulties--to look atthe surrounding landscape. Those who are interested in engineering maylike to know the dimensions of this wall, which is two hundred feetlong, thirty-five feet high, and ten feet thick at the base, taperingoff to a thickness of five feet at the top, and is built of a finelimestone quarried from the railway cutting a little further out. Theview from either of the ridges between which the town is built, ismagnificent, mountain, valley, sea, and river contributing to theeffect. From one ridge you see Clew Bay and the Croagh Patrick range, with an immense tract of country of varied appearance. From the other, immediately above the station, an enormous valley stretches away tothe Bogagh mountain in front and the peaked summit of Lettermoughra onthe left. At the latter point of view are some wooden cabins which theSaxon might mistake for pigsties or small cowsheds until he discoveredthey were inhabited by patriots, keen on Home Rule and charitablecoppers. Beware of civility in these parts. From casual passers-by itnearly always means an appeal for alms, and after a few days'experience you are apt to fall into misanthropy. Some of these beggarshave a fine dramatic way of opening the conversation. A hale andseemingly able-bodied man of fifty or thereabouts came up carrying awheel, which he dropped when about ten yards away with the ferventlyuttered exclamation-- "God help the poor--owld--man!" This adjuration falling short of its aim, he came up and asked for "afew coppers, " at the same time invoking about sixpennyworth ofblessings in advance, a sort of sprat to catch a mackerel. "Got no coppers, " I said, rather impatiently. "May ye never have one till the day of yer death, " said the good oldman, this time with an unmistakable accent of sincerity. He hobbledoff with the wheel, muttering something which may have been blessings, and a fine healthy young fellow came up. "Good mornin', an' 'tis afoin bit of scenery, but we can't ate it, an' we'd die afore we'd gointo the poorhouse, an' a thrifle of money for a dhraw at the pipewould be as welkim as the flowers of May, an' 'tis England is thegrate counthry, and thim that was in it says that Englishmen is tinper cint. Betther than Irishmen, aye, twinty per cint. "--and soforth, and so forth. There were six more applications in a hundredyards, one of them from a well-dressed boy of fourteen or fifteen, whogracefully reclined on a bank with his legs crossed, his arms underhis head. Begging to the Irish race is as natural as breathing. Theyhave an innate affinity for blessing and begging, and they beg withoutneed. Anything to avoid work. They are for the most part entirelydestitute of a spirit of independence. They will not dig, and to begthey are not ashamed. According to a Newport authority they aregrowing worse than ever. While I awaited the fishing up of the line hesaid:-- "The conduct of the poorer classes is becoming more and more adisgrace to the country. There is poverty, of course, but not so much, nor in so great a proportion, as in England. This line has been inprogress for two years and a half, and the people of this districthave received many thousands of pounds without any perceptibleimprovement of position, either as to solvency or personal appearance. They are as ragged as ever, as dirty as ever, and decidedly moredishonest than ever. They are more extravagant in their eating anddrinking, and the women spend more in ridiculous finery; but in spiteof the wages they have earned, they have not paid their way one bitbetter than before. They usually sow the land and live on the crops, selling the surplus to pay the rent, which is usually very moderate, and well within what the land will pay. For thirty months manyhundreds of them, thanks to Mr. Balfour, have enjoyed an additionalincome of fifteen shillings a week, but they have not paid their rentsany better than before. They have so many people agitating for them, both here and in England, that whatever they do or fail to do, theyknow they are sure of substantial support. While Irishmen only wereworking for them, they felt less secure, but now Mr. Gladstone and hisfollowing have taken their cause in hand, they feel more sure of theirground, and accordingly they have lapsed into confirmed laziness anddishonesty. They have found out the strength of combination, and thepossibility of withholding payment of rent, and year by year they arefalling lower and lower. Their morality is sapped at the root. Theyhave the utmost confidence in their clergy, and their conduct beingsupported, and even advised from the altar, they spend all their moneyquite comfortably, sure that in case of eviction the country will beup in arms for their assistance, and that weak but well-meaningEnglish tourists, seeing their apparent condition, will help themliberally. The English tourist has much to answer for. He couples dirtand nakedness with misfortune and poverty, and nine times out of tenhe is altogether wrong. People with five hundred pounds in the bankwill go about barefoot, unwashed, and in rags. No Englishman canpossibly know his way about until he has lived for some time in thecountry, remaining in one spot long enough to find out the real stateof things. He runs about hurriedly from place to place, observingcertain symptoms which in England mean undeserved poverty andsuffering. His diagnosis would be right for England, but for Irelandit is hopelessly wrong. What he sees is not so often symptomatic ofundeserved misfortune, as of laziness, improvidence, and rankdishonesty. The Irish are a complaining people. Self-help ispractically unknown among them, at any rate, among the Catholicpopulation. They have reduced complaining to a system, or, if youwill, they have elevated it to the level of a fine art. The recentagitations have demolished any rudimentary backbone they ever had, andthe No-rent Campaign, with its pleas of poverty and financialinability, has done more to pauperise the people than all the faminesIreland ever saw. "You can do nothing for them. One great argument for Home Rule is thefact that the people are leaving the country. Best thing they can do. Let them get to some country where they must work or starve. Then theywill do well enough. They work like horses in America, and theirnative cuteness conies out in trade with surprising results. The Irishrace make a splendid mixture, but you must not take them neat. I amlooked upon as a monster when I say, Let them go. I think it would bebest. Let them clear out of the country, and leave it to people whocan make it pay. Let Ireland be populated by Englishmen or Scotsmen, or both, and in twenty years the country would be one of the mostprosperous in the world. Those are my opinions, and few Irishmen willgainsay them. They think them cruel, but their truth is generallyadmitted. Mr. Balfour has helped the people, and in a way which wasbest calculated to put them permanently on their feet. All to nopurpose. You can't go on making lines that will not pay. You can't goon doling out charity for ever. Take the boats, nets, and so on, givento the congested districts. When those are gone you may give themmore. The people will be exactly where they were. A few have beentaught fishing, you say. But it will not spread. Those who havelearned the art have been taught almost by compulsion, and at thefirst opportunity they will fall back into their own ways. The farmerswill not change their methods. If one among them did so he would be amark for derision. No Irish villager has the pluck to say, I will dothis or that because it is the best thing to do. He must do as theothers do, even to planting his farm, selling the produce, and also indisposing of the proceeds. Nowhere is public opinion so powerful, sotyrannical, or so injuriously conservative as in Ireland. I challengecontradiction. Any intelligent Irishman who has lived in anagricultural and Roman Catholic neighbourhood will admit everystatement I have made. " Later in the day I laid these observations before three Irishgentlemen dining at the Mulranney Hotel. All three readily and fullyconcurred, and there can be no doubt that these sentiments will beunanimously confirmed by any competent tribunal in or out of Ireland, Such being the case, the absurdity of the Home Rule agitation becomesevident at once. At last the sportive young engine whose playfulness and prankishnesswere mentioned in my last, came whinnying up, harnessed to an emptytruck in which was a bench with a green cloth, emblematic of Ireland. This was better than convulsively clinging to the engine while shemadly careered along narrow and dizzy precipices, every kickthreatening to be your last, and emerging from the fiery ordeal, begrimed and swarthy, your knees half cooked by the engine fire. Allthis happened on my journey from Westport to Newport, but now thetruck promised Sybaritic luxury, and if the rail should again giveway, if the bog-hole, "still gaping to devour me, opened wide, " Ishould at least disappear with dignity, should take my _holium cumdignitatis_ in a truck, on a green-covered seat, and with theconsciousness that I was doing something to fill up the gap, to solacethe aching void in Ireland's bosom. Away we went, thundering alongbetween the quivering bogs, as through a land of brown-blackcalves'-foot jelly. The line itself is sound, well-made and firm. Ihad this from Mr. Hare, engineer of the Board of Works, who said thatMr. Worthington's railways have an excellent name for solidity andthorough, conscientious work. Mr. Hare was formally taking over thelast bit of line, that between Mulranney and Achil Sound, with whichthe Midland and Great Western Company will at present have nought todo. The company will work from Westport to Mulranney, although someportions of the line have a gradient of one in sixty, and thedirectors are shy of anything steeper than one in a hundred by reasonof the wear and tear involved to rolling stock and permanent way bygradients requiring so much brake power. But the last seven miles theydecline to touch on the terms offered by the Government at present. Nodoubt the line will be worked, and by the company aforesaid, but thecontracting parties are for the moment at a deadlock. No line betweenMulranney and the Sound could possibly pay. England is building Irishrailways to give the people a chance, as the splendid quays ofNewport, Limerick, and Galway were built. Nothing, or next to nothing, is done on these quays. The Channel, asit is called at Newport, is a fine expanse of water about one hundredand twenty yards wide, leading through Newport Bay directly into theAtlantic. Only one boat, I was told, comes into the port. I saw itthere, unloading a hundred and eighty tons of Indian corn--a Glasgowvessel, the Harmony, a sailer, which had taken three weeks to thevoyage, which a steamer easily runs in thirty six to forty hours. Galway was busier, but not by Irish enterprise, and Limerick wasmostly fast asleep. The people cry aloud and shout for quays, harbours, piers, and railways; and when they are built they ask forsomething else. They are without the faculty of industrial enterprise. They are always waiting for weather, wind, and tide. They lackresourcefulness, energy, invention. When the flour mills ceased to paythey had no notion of using the buildings and water-power for someother purpose. When the Coventry ribbon trade went to the dogs thepeople found salvation in bicycles. If Coventry had been in Irelandthe people would have starved and murmured to the end of time. Two miles out we came to Deradda, where eighty men were at work. Nextcame Shellogah and the squeamish bit of bog. A number of men were busyon the line, and right in front of us was a gap in the rails, theplatelayers laying the steel for dear life while the engine came up. We slackened speed, but made no stop, and the last rail was finallybolted as we ran upon it. Carefully and gingerly we pushed along, mytriumphal chariot in front of the engine, over the shiveringembankment, on each side of which were deep-cut channels which seemedto have been hewn through acres of Day and Martin's blacking, so jettyand oily seemed this Irish bog. The subsidence of yesterday had forcedthe boundary walls of the line into wide semicircles, and it seemedlikely to be touch-and-go with the engine, truck, and your humblecommissioner. I took a last look at the landscape, and made a finalnote, but, while inly wondering whether I should be ultimatelyconsumed in the form of peat or dug up and exhibited to future ages asa bog-preserved brutal Saxon, with a concluding squash we passed therotten spot, and it was permissible to breathe again. "We prefer it tosink at once, " said Mr. Bennett. "Then we know the 'hard' is not faroff, and we can fill up till the line becomes solid as a rock. When itgoes down by degrees, sinking a foot to-day and a foot to-morrow, wefind our work more difficult. We never leave a bad bit till we areassured, by careful examination and severe and repeated tests, thatall is solid and secure. " He told me how much earth had been dumped onthis spot, which, like the soft place mentioned in my last, has givenMr. Balfour's _protégés_ a world of employment. I forget the quantity, but it sounded like an island or a small range of mountains. Soon onthe left we saw the great expanse of Clew Bay, with its three hundredand sixty-five considerable islands, nearly all with cottages, cattle, and pasture, but without a tree. The Yankee breezes blew refreshingly, and the scenery around became of wildest grandeur. High mountainshemmed us in on every side, rising one over another, huge masses ofrock impending over untrodden passes, unknown to any guide-book, andleading no man knows whither. Some mountain sheep on the line scaledthe embankment and leaped the five-foot wall like squirrels. Then agroup of obstinate black cattle, one of which narrowly escaped suddentransformation into beef. Then the station of Mulranney, or rather itssite, for the foundations are not yet dug out. Some neat woodencottages attested the contractor's care for his workmen, and thebeautiful bay with its extensive sands and lovely surroundings cameinto view far below. A steep descent brought us to the hotel, anunlicensed house kept by a Northern Protestant. A quaint and charmingplace, known and prized by a select few. The Board of Works gaveMulrannoy a pier, but the whole bay boasted only a single boat. Thepeople make no use of their pier. It stretches into the sea in alonely, melancholy way, and, so far as I could see, without a boatnear it, without a soul upon it or within half-a-mile. The Mulranianscannot do anything with the pier until they get Home Rule. In Limerickone day I saw a dead cat before a cottage door, in a crowded part ofIrishtown. A week later pussy was diffusing an aromatic fragrance fromthe self-same spot. The denizens of this locality are waiting for HomeRule. They cannot move their dead cats while smarting 'neath the cruelEnglish yoke. The Home Rulers of Mulranney are not original. They say the samethings over and over again, merely echoing what they have been told byothers. They believe that their country has unlimited good coal, andthat the English Parliament prevents the mines being sunk for fear oflosing Irish custom. "We wish it were trap, " said Mr. Bennett. "We arealways looking for it, but although we have made a million's worth ofrailway, we have never seen a vestige of coal. It is safe to say thatthere is no coal in Ireland, except in one or two well-known spots, where it exists, and is mined, in small quantities. " Anotherenlightened Irishman, of wide experience in many lands, expressed theconviction of the majority of his countrymen that the proposedParliamentary change will never take place. "The thing is too ridiculous to be possible. The respectable portionof the community were alarmed at first, as well they might be, knowingas they do precisely what it means. But as time went on that alarm hasto a great extent subsided, not, as some will say, because the peopleare in any degree reconciled to the idea, but purely and simplybecause they see that the bill must perish when exposed to the lightof criticism. The people as a whole do not want the bill. The poorerclasses do not know in the least what it means, nor what all thebother is about. They are told that they will be hugely benefited, butnobody can tell them how. Of course they vote for Home Rule, becausein these parts the priest stands at the door of the polling booth andtells them as they go in how they are to vote. He also questions themas they come out, and they know beforehand that he will do so, and actaccordingly. They dare not tell him a lie, for fear of spiritualtrouble. They believe that the priest has their eternal future in hishands, and this belief is encouraged by the well-known argument usedby the Roman Catholic clergy, a very familiar phrase in Ireland, "Youmust do as I tell you, for _I_ am responsible. God will require yoursoul of _me_ at the day of judgement!" What can the poor folks do?Even the higher classes are not exempt from this superstitious fear. They may be more or less freethinkers--freethinking is common amongeducated Catholics who are yet compelled by custom to conform to theoutward observances of their faith--but yet, when the pinch comes, they are influenced by the prepossessions of their childhood andenvironments, and they mostly vote as they are told. They dread tooffend the priest, though not to the same extent as the poorpeasantry, who believe that confession of a wrong vote would entailthe refusal of extreme unction, and that this would mean untold andendless torture in the world to come. And the priests preach politicsevery Sunday. The people like it better than the old style ofInstruction. They call their sermons Instructions, you know, and theyinstruct the people to some tune. No doubt they have a right topersuade their flocks to follow a certain course. The temptation topreach something which at once catches the people's attention andfurthers their own views is very great, and perhaps excusable. But istheir teaching designed or calculated to suit England? The English maynot understand the Irish question, but they may be sure that whateversuits the Papal power does not suit them. The modern Irish priest is asworn foe to England. It cannot be otherwise. He springs from thesmall farmer class, which has sworn to extirpate landlordism, which, to their minds, is synonymous with British rule. The EnglishParliament, hoping to win over the farmers, who are the strength ofIreland, has made one concession after another, with what result?Absolutely none. The property of the landlord has been sacrificed bitby bit, in fruitless endeavour to please these people, who are morediscontented than ever. And so they will continue to be as long asdiscontent pays. In Ireland the landlord is nothing, the tenant iseverything. The policy of England with regard to Irish landlordsreminds me of the man who, having to dock a dog's tail, cut offhalf-an-inch every day to gradually accustom him to the loss, and tominimise the 'suffering of the baste. '" You can go nowhere in Ireland without meeting an Ulsterman. There wasone at Mulranney. You may know them by their accent, by their size, bya general effect of weight, decision, and determination. They aremostly big men, large-boned and large-limbed, of ruthless energy, ofinexhaustible vitality. They are demons in argument, tenacious andcrushing. They bowl straight over-hand and dead on the middle stump. The lithe and sinuous Celt is no match for them. No matter how hetwists and turns they grab him up, and, will he, nill he, fix him infront of the argument. They are adepts in cornering an opponent bykeeping him to the point. You cannot catch them napping, and youcannot turn their flank. They are contented enough, except that theysigh for more worlds to conquer. They delight in difficulties, anddemolish Home Rulers with a kind of contempt as if the work were onlyfit for children. They seem to be fighting with one hand, with greatreserve of power, and, after doubling up an opponent, they chuck himover the ropes, and look around, as if, like Oliver, asking for"more. " My Mulranney friend said:-- "Bull confessedly does not know what to do, and he calls in two setsof Irish experts (we'll say) and asks for their opinions. One set ofIrishmen never quarrel with anybody and always pay their debts. Theother set quarrel with everybody and don't pay what they owe. One setare successful in everything, the other set are successful in nothing. One set have always been friendly and helpful to Bull, the other sethave always been unfriendly and obstructive to him. He proposes toreject the advice of the successful, amicable, helpful men, who havealways stuck up for him, and to follow the advice of the quarrelsome, unsuccessful, unfriendly men, who have always spoken ill of him andhave spent their energies in trying to damage him. Bull must be afool--or rather he would be if he meant to act in this foolish way. Hewill not do so; that can never be. But why waste so much time?" I submitted that this waste was due to Mr. Gladstone, and not toEngland at all. He said-- "There is no England now. There's nothing left but Gladstone. " Of course he was wrong, but the mistake is one that under presentcircumstances any loyal Irishman might easily make. Mulranney (Co. Mayo), June 17th. No. 37. --ON ACHIL ISLAND. The final spurt from Mulranney to Achil Sound was pleasant, but devoidof striking incident. This part of the line is packed and ballasted, and the _Gazette_ engine sobered down to the merely commonplace, dropping her prancing and curveting, with other deplorable excesses ofthe first two runs, and pushing my comfortable truck with thesteadiness of a well-broken steed. No holding on was required, as weran between the two ranges of mountains which guard the Sound, andalong the edge of a salt-water creek, which seemed to be pushing itsinvestigations inland. Barring the scenery the ride becameuninteresting by its very safety. The line for the most part is basedupon the living rock, and there were no exciting skims overtreacherous bogs, no reasonable chance of running off the line, no upsand downs such as on our first flight were remindful of the switchbackrailway, no hopping, jumping, or skipping. Anybody could have riddenfrom Mulranney to Achil. There was no merit in the achievement. Allyou had to do was to sit still and look about. You could no longerwitch the world with noble truckmanship. We ran over a bridge built toreplace one washed away by a mountain torrent. The engineer whoconstructed the first had failed to realise that the tinkling rivuletof summer became in winter a fiercely surging cataract. The AchilMountains loomed in full view, Croaghaun to the left, Sliebhmor(pronounced Slievemore) the Great Mountain, in front, with many othersstranger still of name. Then the Sound came in sight, with the ironviaduct-bridge which has turned the island into a peninsula. Then thefinal dismount, and a scramble among rusty rails, embankments, sleepers, and big boulders strewn about in hopeless chaos. Then thelittle inn, with a stuffed fox and a swan in the porch. A glance atthe day-before-yesterday's paper, which has just arrived, and isconsidered to serve up news red-hot; and then invasion of the island. A few hookers are anchored near the swivel-bridge of the viaduct, inreadiness for their cargoes of harvesters for England and Scotland, and now and then big trout and salmon throw themselves in air to seewhat is going on in the world around them. A group of men who arebusily engaged in doing nothing, with a grace and ease which tells oflong experience, manifest great interest in the stranger, whom theygreet civilly and with much politeness. Men, women, and children aredigging turf in a bog beside the road. All suspend operations and lookearnestly in my direction. This is one of the amenities of Irish life. Driving along a country road you see men at work in a field. They stopat the first rumble of the car, and leaning on their spades they watchyou out of sight. Then they resume in leisurely style, for work theywill tell you is scarce, and, to their credit be it observed, theyshow no disposition to make it scarcer still. They husband it, hoardit up, are not too greedy, leave some for another day. They digeasily, with a straight back, and take a long time to turn round. Thesavage energy of the Saxon is to them unknown. Why wear themselvesout? "Sweet bad luck to the man that would bur-rst himself as if thewuruld wouldn't be afther him. Divil sweep the omadhaun that wouldmake his two elbows into a windmill that niver shtops, but is alwaysgoing. Fair an' aisy goes far in a day. Walkin' is betther thanrunnin', an' standin' is betther than walkin', an' sittin' is bettherthan standin', an' lyin' is betther than any o' thim. Twas me owldfather said it, an' a thrue wurud he shpoke, rest his sowl in glory. " The Achil folks are ardent politicians. They have been visited byMichael Davitt, Dr. Tanner, and others, and most of the population, all the Catholics in fact, became members of the Land League. The areaof the island is about forty thousand acres, a vast moorland, withmiles of bog, and hills and mountains in every direction. There arealso several large lakes, which abound with white trout. Thecultivated portions of the land only seem to dot the great waste, which nevertheless supports a population of some five thousandpersons. The houses are mostly filthy, the people having cattle whichlive with the family. I approached a house to make inquiries, and wasdriven from the open door by the smell issuing from the interior. Thenext was sweeter, having perhaps been more recently cleaned out. Onlyone room, with a big turf fire, creating an intolerable atmosphere. Abed filled one-third of the floor, most of the remainder beingoccupied by two cows. A rough deal table near the bed comprised thefurniture, and visitors, therefore, must sit on the sleepingarrangement. A civilised Irishman said:--"Two cows, two clean cowsonly, and you're surprised at that! Where have you been? Where haveyou been brought up? Let me tell you something, and when you get toDugort ask the doctor there whether I am correct. A family not faraway were stricken down with typhus fever. The people are mostlyhealthy and strong, although living under circumstances which wouldsoon kill people not used to them, or not enjoying the same splendidlypure air. Well, the poor folks, eight of them, were all down at once, and no wonder, for when I visited them I never saw such a sight in mylife. There were three in one bed in one corner, three in one bed inanother corner, and two in shake-down beds on the floor. In the sameroom were a mare and foal, three cows, one pig under a bed, and ahenroost above, on the ceiling. What would the sanitary authorities ofBirmingham say to that menagerie in a sick room? Somebody wrote to theLocal Government Board, and the Board referred the matter to the PoorLaw Guardians. But the Guardians themselves kept cattle in theirhouses. It is the prevailing custom. Wherever you go in Achil, youwill find cattle in the houses, along with the family, sharing thesame room. The people cannot be moved from this custom. A largelandowner built some good cottages for them, and offered them rentfree, on condition that they would not live with the cattle. Thepeople would not accept, so they got the houses at last on their ownterms, and took the cows with them as before. They say that the cowsenjoy the warmth and give better milk. They also say that the big turffire stands them in lieu of feed to some extent. The Achil folks arehopeless in the direction of improvements. They have had theProtestant Colony at Dugort before them for more than sixty years--awell-housed, well-clad community, living clearly and respectably, paying their way, and keeping at peace with all men, but they have notmoved an inch in the same direction. They bury their dead in the oldsavage way, without any funeral rites, except such as the relativesmay have in their minds. The priest says no prayer, reads no service, does not attend in his official character, unless specially engagedand paid. Usually he does not attend funerals at all, although he maysometimes join the procession as a mark of respect. And the weddingsare arranged in a way you might think barbarous. A young man fancies agirl he sees at mass, or at a funeral. He gets a bottle of whiskey andgoes to see the father, who nearly always wishes to get the daughteroff his hands, without any regard whatever for the poor girl'sfeelings. I was present at one of these negotiations. 'What will yougive with her?' said the young fellow, a boy of eighteen or so. 'Threecows and a calf, ' said the father. 'So-and-so got three cows and acalf and a sheep. ' said the suitor. The father pondered a bit, buteventually, not to be behind, conceded the sheep. The lover tried abit further. Somebody else had three cows and a calf and a sheep and alamb, but the old man stood firm, and the bargain was struck, withmutual esteem, after several hours' haggling and a second bottle ofwhiskey. I called in the evening to learn the girl's fate. She hadbeen two years in service and had got unorthodox notions. Shescreamed with affright when the father brought the fellow forward andtold her what was arranged. She had seen him before, but had neverspoken to him, and the sight of him had always been most repugnant toher. She ran away into the bogs, but the country was up, and she wassoon found. Then after a sound beating she was handed over to theardent swain along with the cows, and so forth, nominated in the bond. "They marry early or go to America. The boy is usually seventeen oreighteen, the girl fifteen or sixteen. I have known girls marry atthirteen. Not long ago a boy I knew well, a mere weakling, unable todo even a boy's work, got married. He was seventeen, or nearlyseventeen, but he didn't look it. They believe that their poverty, such as it is, is due to the predominance of England. Their hatred ofthe English is very pronounced, but a casual visitor will not see it. He has money to spend, and they flock round him in a friendly way. Butlet him live among them! They tried to boycott the Protestantsettlement, and if their priests had ruled on that occasion they wouldhave starved us out or would have made things so unpleasant that wemust have left the field. That was during the Land League agitation. The Protestants declined to join and vengeance was declared, butBonaventure, head of the monastery, forbade it. He is a splendidfellow, not like the ordinary priests at all. So they were saved. Butlet this change come about, once let that bill become law, and allProtestants must leave the island, must give up the land they havetilled and tended until it is like a garden, and seek their fortuneselsewhere. That is a certainty. Ask everyone you meet, and you willfind that each will say just the same thing. " A smart car driver, named Matthew Henay, was dubious as to thebenefits accruing from Home Rule. His driving was a study, and hisconversations with Maggie, his little mare, were both varied andvigorous. "Now me little daughter, away ye go. That's the girl now. Melittle duck, ye go sweetly. There's the beauty, now. Maggie me love, me darlint, me pride; ye know ivery word I spake. Yes, she does, Sorr. She ondhershtands both English an' Irish. I can dhrive her in both, but I have an owld woman o' me own that can only dhrive her in Irish. Home Rule will do no good at all. Twinty years I wint to England toharvest, an' eighteen iv it to the same masther an' on the same farm. An' ye don't get me to belave all I hear widout thinkin' a bit. An' Isay, get out o' that wid yer talk o' mines an' factories, an' rubbish. Where's the money to come from? says I. That's what nobody knows. Sure, we'd be nothin' widout England. A thousand goes from this partevery year, an' even the girls brings back ten to fifteen pounds each. That's all the circulation of money we have. An' as all we get's fromEngland, I say, let us stick to England, but nobody agrees wid me. There's the girl, now. Away ye go, me little duck, me daughter, mebeauty, me--bad luck to ye, _will_ ye go? What are ye standin' therefor? Will ye get out o' that, ye lazy brute? Take that, an' that, an'_that_, ye idle, good-for-nothin', desavin', durty daughter of a pig. _Now_ d'ye ondhershtand who's masther, ye idle, skulkin', schamin', disrespictable baste?" Misther Henay was favourably disposed towards the Protestant settlersof Dugort, but another Sounder was very bitter indeed. "A set ofSoupers an' Jumpers an' Double-Jumpers. What's the manin' iv it yeask? Soupers is Catholics that's turned Protestants for the sake ofsmall pickin's sich as soup. That's what they are at Dugort. An'Jumpers is worse than Soupers. For Soupers only changed once, butJumpers is thim that turned once an' then turned back again, jumpin'about from one religion to another. Ye can have Jumpers in anythin'. Ye can have thim in politics. Owld Gladstone is a Jumper and aDouble-Jumper an' a Double-Thribble Jumper. An' if we get a Parlimintfor ourselves, 'tis because he daren't for the life of him say No--an'divil thank him. Yes, we'll take the bill; what else will we do? Wecan amend it whin once we get it. But afther so much jumpin', owldGladstone's a man I wouldn't thrust. A man that would make so manychanges isn't to be thrusted. I wouldn't be surprised if he wouldn'tbring in a coercion bill at any minute. Ah, the thricks an' the dodgesiv him! An' the silver tongue he has in his head! Begorra, I wouldn'tlave him out o' me sight. 'Tis himself would stale the cross off adonkey's back. " The Achil ditches are full of ferns, and a hundred yards from the seaare clumps of _Osmunda regalis_--otherwise known as the Royalfern--spreading out palm-like fronds four feet long. Other ferns, usually regarded as rare, abound in every direction, and potatoes andcabbages grow at the very water's edge. The vast plains are treelesssave for the plantations round the house of Major Pike, who has shownwhat can be done to reclaim the land, but his excellent example hasattracted no imitators. Except in the Major's grounds there is not atree on the island, unless we count the hedges of fuchsias, twelve tofifteen feet high, which fence in some of the gardens. The PostOffice, engineered by Mr. Robins, of Devonshire, an oldcoastguardsman, is surrounded by fuchsia bloom, and every evidence ofcareful culture. Here I met some Achil folks who did not understandEnglish, and a mainland man who does not believe in the future of therace. He said:-- "I think their civilisation has stood still for at least fivecenturies. They are so wedded to their ancient customs that nothingcan be done for them. They are not so poor as they look, and thestarvation of which you hear in England is totally unknown. As anobject of charity Achil is a gigantic swindle. When the seed potatoeswere brought here in Her Majesty's gunboats the people were too lazyto fetch them ashore. I was there and heard an Irish bluejacketcursing them as a disgrace to his country. They do just what thepriests tell them from week to week. Every Sunday they get theirinstructions. They keep up the cry of distress when there is nodistress, for fear of breaking through the custom. They have beenhelped on all sides, but they will not utilise their advantages. Thesea is before them, swarming with fish, which they will not catch. They said, we have no pier, no quay. They were set up with these andeverything they needed. What did they do with them? Nothing at all. The work is falling to pieces and they let it go. They sometimes goout in coraghs, and catch enough fish for the day's food, but that isall. They don't pay their rents, and their rents would amuse you. Twenty-five shillings a year for a decent house and a good piece ofland is reckoned a heavy responsibility. One man I know named McGrealhas twenty acres of good land and a house for seventeen shillings andsixpence a year. They will not sell you butter, they will not sell youmilk. They say they want it for themselves. None of them has ever paida cent for fuel. All have turf for the digging, and much of the Achilturf is equal to coal. The sea is in front of them, and all roundthem, and the lakes are full of fish. And yet the hat is sent roundevery other year. "They used to pay their debts. Now they will pay nothing, and theiraudacity is something wonderful. A gentleman over there has boughtsome land, and the people turn their cattle on it to graze. Heremonstrates, and they say, 'What business have you here? Keep in yourown country. ' He sued them for damages. They had nothing but thecattle aforesaid, and, as he could not find heart to seize, he had noremedy. They keep their cattle on his land, although he has, sincethen, processed them for trespass. They have already divided thespoils of the Protestants; that is, in theory. They are anticipatingthe Home Rule Bill in their disposal of the land. They have marked outthe patches they will severally claim, and are already disputing thefuture possession of certain desirable fields. "English Gladstonians ridicule the fears of Irish Protestants, whodeclare unanimously their conviction that Home Rule means oppression. This ridicule is absurd in face of the fact that every Protestantsect, without exception, has publicly and formally announced itsadherence to this opinion. The Church of Ireland believes in Catholicintolerance; the Methodists believe it; the Baptists believe it; thePlymouth Brethren believe it; the Presbyterians believe it; theUnitarians, the most radical of all the sects, believe it; theQuakers, who never before made a public deliverance of opinion in anypolitical matter, believe it; and all these have issued printeddeclarations of their belief. The Roman Catholic laity, the best ofthem, believe it; but the Catholic Bishops say No, they will not admitthe soft impeachment. And Englishmen who are Gladstonians believethese Bishops in preference to all the sects I have enumerated. Couldanything be more unreasonable? But it is of a piece with the wholeconception of the bill, which seems to contain every possibleabsurdity, and is based on extravagant assumptions of amity on thepart of Irish Catholics, of which there is not one particle ofevidence in existence. All the evidence points the other way, andIrish Protestants know that under Home Rule their fate is sealed. There would be no open persecution, but we should be gently elbowedout of the country. All who could leave Ireland would do so at once, and England would lose her most powerful allies in the enemy's camp. For it is the enemy's camp, and this fact should be borne in mind. Mr. Gladstone and his followers would be horrified to hear such astatement, which they would regard as rank blasphemy. But everyIrishman knows it, and every Englishman knows it who lives here longenough to know anything. Irish Nationalists have two leading ideas--toget as much out of England as possible, and to damage her as much aspossible by way of repayment. Mr. Gladstone wants to put England'shead on the block, to hand an axe to her sworn enemy, and to say, 'I'msure you won't chop. ' People who have common sense stand amazed, dumbfounded at so much stupidity. " A pious Catholic bore out the statements of my first Achil friend withreference to the comparative comfort of the Islanders. He said:--"Welive mostly on bread and tea. Of course we have plenty of butter andeggs, and now and then we go out and get some fish. I had a go at afive-pound white trout to-day, with plenty of butter and potatoes. AtDugort people who live in cabins have money in the bank, aye, some ofthem have several hundred pounds. And yet they took the seed potatoessent by England. Well, they wanted a change of seed, and they must dothe same as their neighbours. It would not do to pretend to be anybetter off than the rest. They are compelled to do as the majority doin everything, or they would be boycotted at once. They cease workwhen a death occurs in the parish. If an infant three days old shouldgive up the ghost, every man shoulders his spade and leaves the field. And he does not return till after the funeral. If another deathoccurred on the funeral day, he would leave off again, and so on. Nomatter how urgent the state of the crop, he must leave it to its fate, or leave the country, for no one would know a person who would workwhile a corpse lay in the parish. They would look upon him as aninfidel, and, if possible, worse than a Protestant. Luckily we don'toften die hereabouts, or we'd never get the praties set or the turfcut. Sometimes they won't go to work because someone is expected todie, and they say it isn't worth while to begin. I have known alingering case to throw the crops back a fortnight or more. Oh, theydon't grumble; any excuse for laziness is warmly welcomed. Theycomplain when people die at inconvenient times, and will say the actmight have been delayed till a more convenient season, or might havebeen done a little earlier. The whole population turn out for thefuneral, but they don't dig the grave until the procession reaches thegraveyard. Then the mourners sit around smoking, both men and women, while a couple of young chaps make a shallow hole, and cover thecoffin with four to six inches of earth. No, it is not severelysanitary, but we are not too particular in Achil. " These unsophisticated islanders are decidedly interesting. Theircustoms, politics, manners, morals, odours seem to be stronglymarked--to have character, originality, individuality. I fear they aremostly Home Rulers, for in Ireland Home Rule and strong smells nearlyalways go together. Achil Sound, June 20th. No. 38. --THE ACHIL ISLANDERS. Dugort, the capital city of Achil, is twelve miles from the Sound, aterrible drive in winter, when the Atlantic storms blow with suchviolence as to stop a horse and cart, and to render pedestrianismwell-nigh impossible; but pleasant enough in fine weather, notwithstanding the seemingly interminable wastes of bog and rockymountain, dotted at infrequent intervals with white cottages, singleor in small clusters of three or four. After Major Pike's plantations, near the Sound, not a tree is visible all the way to Dugort, althoughat some points you can see for ten miles or more. Here and there wherethe turf has been cut away for fuel, great gnarled roots of oak andfir trees are visible, bleached by exposure to a ghastly white, showing against the jetty soil like the bones of extinct giants, whichindeed they are. The inhabitants say that the island was once coveredby a great forest, which perished by fire, and Misther Patrick Toolis, with that love of fine words which marks the Irish peasant, said thatthe charred interior of the scattered remains proves that the treeswere "desthroyed intirely by a grate confiscation. " The heather, oftwo kinds, is brilliantly purple, and the Royal fern grows everywherein profusion, its terra-cotta bloom often towering six feet high. Themountains are effectively arranged, and imposing by their massiveness, height, and rugged grandeur. Some of the roads are tolerable, thosemade by Mr. Balfour being by far the best. Others are execrable anddangerous in the extreme, and in winter must be almost impassable. Sometimes they run along a narrow ridge which in its normal conditionwas of barely sufficient width to carry the car, and it often happensthat part of this has fallen away, so that the gap must be passed byleading the horse while the car scrapes along with one wheel on thetop and one clinging to the side of the abyss. The natives make lightof such small inconveniences, and for the most part ride on horsebackwith saddles and crupper-bands of plaited rye-straw. Every householderhas a horse or an ass, mostly a horse, and young girls career adownthe mountain sides in what seems the maddest, most reckless way, guiding their half-broken, mustard-coloured steeds with a single reinof plaited straw, adjusted in an artful way which is beyond me todescribe. Very quaint they look, on their yellow horses, which remindyou of D'Artagnan's orange-coloured charger, immortalised by Dumas inthe "Three Musketeers;" their red robes floating in the breeze, theirbare feet hanging over the horse's right flank. When they fall offthey simply get on again. They seldom or never are hurt. They are hardas nails and lissom as cats. Dr. Croly, of Dugort, saw a girl thrownheels over head, turning a complete somersault from the horse's back. She alighted on her feet, grabbed the rein, bounded up again, andgaily galloped away. During my hundred miles riding and walking overthe island I saw many riderless horses, fully accoutred in the Achilstyle, plodding patiently along the moorland roads, climbing the steepmountain paths. At first I thought an accident had occurred, and spentsome time in looking for the corpse. There was no occasion for fear. The Achil harvesters going to England and Scotland ride over to theSound, where lie the fishing smacks which bear them to Westport, andthen turn their horses loose. The faithful beasts go home, howeverlong or devious the road, sometimes alone, sometimes in company, onlystaying a moment at the parting of the ways to bid each othergood-bye, then going forward at a brisker pace to make up for losttime. The hamlet of Cashel, not to be confused with Cashel of the Rock, isthe first sign of life after leaving the Sound. A ravine, with whitecabins, green crops, and huge boulders, on one of which seven smallchildren were sitting in a row, unwashed, unkempt, with little calicoand no leather. Bunnacurragh has a post-office run by a pensioner whogrows roses, and keeps his place like a picture, the straw ropes whichsecure the thatch against the western gales taut and trig, each looseend terminated by a loop holding a large stone. The stones are used inplace of pegs, and very queer they look dangling all round over theeaves. Not far from here is an immense basin-like depression of drybog. Then a monastery, in the precincts of which the ground isreclaimed and admirably tilled, the drainage being carried overingenious turf conduits, the soil lacking firmness to hold stone orbrick. The vast bulk of Slievemore soon looms full in front, and aftera long stretch of smooth Balfour road and a sharp turn on the edge ofa deep ravine on the right with a high ridge beyond it, the Greatmountain on the left, Dugort, with Blacksod Bay, heaves in sight. Afinal spurt up the hilly road and the weary, jolted traveller, or whatis left of him, may (metaphorically) fall into the arms of Mr. RobertSheridan, of the Sea View Hotel, or of Mrs. Sheridan, if he likes itbetter. There are two Dugorts, or one Dugort divided against itself. The lineof demarcation is sharp and decided. The two sections stand but ashort distance apart, each on an opposite horn of the little bay, butthe moral distance is great enough for forty thousand leagues. TheDugort under Slievemore is Protestant, the Dugort of the oppositecliff is intensely Roman Catholic. The one is the perfection ofneatness, sweetness, cleanliness, prettiness, and order. The other isdirty, frowsy, disorderly, and of evil odour. The Papists deny theright of the Protestants to be in the island at all, speak of themwith acerbity, call them the Colonists, the perverts, the Soupers, theJumpers, the heretics; and look forward to the time when a DublinParliament will banish law and order, so that these interlopers may befor ever swept away, and their fields and houses become the propertyof the Faithful. They complain that the Protestants have all the bestland, and that the Papist population were wrongfully driven from theground now occupied by the colony. Like other Catholic poor all overIreland they will tell you that they have been ground down, harried, oppressed, grievously ill-used, habitually ill-treated by the EnglishGovernment, which has never given them a chance. They explain theprosperity of their Protestant neighbours by knowing winks and nods, and by plain intimations that all Irish Protestants are secretlysubsidised by England, that they have privileges, that they arefavoured, petted, kept in pocket money. To affect to doubt this is toprove yourself a dissembler, an impostor, a black-hearted enemy of thepeople. Your Achil friend will drop the conversation in disgust, andby round-about ways will call you a liar. He is sure of his facts, assure as he is that a sprinkling of holy water will cure rheumatism, will keep away the fairies from the cow, will put a fine edge on hisrazor, will keep the donkey from being bewitched. He knows who has hadmoney and how much, having reasoned out the matter by inference. Hecould sell himself to-morrow, but is incorruptible, and will remain astrong rock to the faith, will still buttress up the true hierarchy ofheaven. He cannot be bought, and this is strange, for he never looksworth twopence. It was during a famine that one Mr. Nangle, a Protestant parson fromthe North, went to Achil and found the people in deepest distress. They were dying of starvation, and their priests had all fled. Mr. Nangle had no money, but he was prompt in action. He sent a thousandpounds' worth of meal to the island on his own responsibility, andweighed down by a sense of the debt he had incurred, went to London tobeg the money. He was successful, and afterwards founded the Achilmission at Dugort, now called the Colony. Needless to say that all theland belonging to the mission was duly bought and paid for, and thatthe Protestants have been the benefactors of Achil. The stories ofwrong-doing, robbery, and spoliation, which the peasantry repeat, areof course totally untrue. The example of a decently-housed communityhas produced no perceptible effect on the habits of the Achilese. Thevillages of Cabawn, Avon (also known by its Anglicised name of River), Ballyknock, Slievemore, and Ducanella are dirty beyond description. Some of the houses I saw in a drive which included the coastguardstation of Bull's Mouth were mere heaps of stones, with turf sods fortiles, whereon was growing long grass which looked like a smallinstalment of the three acres and a cow. Some had no windows and nochimney, the turf reek filling the hovel, but partly escaping by ahole in the roof. The people who live in this look as it painted inumber by old Dutch masters. These huts are small, but there is alwaysroom for a pig or two, which stalk about or stretch themselves beforethe fire like privileged members of the family. This was very well forthe Gintleman that paid the Rint. But he merits the title no longer. His occupation's gone. A sturdy Protestant said:--"Suppose Home Rule became law, then we mustgo away. We are only here on sufferance, and every person in theColony knows it and feels it only too well. Our lives would not beendangered: those times are over, but we could not possibly stay inthe island. Remove the direct support of England, and we should besubject to insult and wrong, for which we should have no earthlyremedy. What could they do? Why, to begin with, they could pasturetheir cattle on our fields. If we turned them out they could be turnedin again; if we sue them we have a day's journey to take to get thecause heard, and if we get the verdict we can recover nothing. Shoot acow or two! Then we should ourselves be shot, or our children. No, there has been no landlord-shooting on the island. This kind of largegame has always been very scarce on Achil. Just over the Sound we hada little sport--a really merry little turn it was--but the wrong manwas shot. "A Mr. Smith came down to collect rents. The Land League was rulingthe country, and its desperadoes were everywhere. It was decided toshoot Mr. Smith, after duly warning him to keep away. Smith was not tobe deterred from what he thought his duty (he was a Black Protestant), and away he went, with his son, a neat strip of a lad about seventeenor so. When they got half-way to the house which Smith had appointedas a meeting-place a man in the bog which bordered the road calledout, and waved a paper, which he then placed on a heap of turf. YoungSmith went for it, and it read. YOU'LL NOT GO HOME ALIVE THIS NIGHT. 'Drive on, Tom, ' said the father. 'We'll do our work, whether we gohome alive or dead. ' Coming back the same evening the father wasdriving, the son, this young lad, sitting at the side of the car, which was furnished with a couple of repeating rifles and a revolver. Suddenly three men spring up from behind a fence and fire a volley atthe two Smiths, but as they rose the horse shied and plunged forward, and hang me! if they didn't all miss. The elder Smith still struggledwith the frightened horse, which the shooting had made ungovernable, but the boy slipped off the car, and, seizing one of the rifles, looked out for a shot in return. It was growing dusk, and the bog wasfull of trenches and ups and downs, of which the three fugitivescleverly availed themselves. Besides, to be shot at from a point-blankrange of three or four yards, scrambling down afterwards from behind afrantic horse, is not the best Wimbledon method of steadying thenerves. The boy put the rifle to his shoulder, and bided his time. Presently up came one of the running heroes, and young Smith shot himthrough the heart, as neat a kill as ever you saw. The dead man wasidentified as a militiaman from Crossmolina, up Sligo way. The Leaguealways brought its marksmen from a distance, and it is known that mostof them were persons who had received some military training. Then theyoungster covered another, but missed, and was about to fire again whenhis father shouted, 'Hold hard, Tom, that's enough sport for one day. '" My friend was wrong. The second shot lacerated the man's shoulder, andlaid him up for many a long week. I had the fact, which is now firstrecorded, on _undoubted authority_. Young Smith may be gratified tolearn, for the first time, that his second bullet was not altogetherthrown away. This may console him for the loss of the third reprobate, whom he had got "exactly between the shoulders, " when the elder Smithordered him to desist. The occurrence was such a lesson to the LandLeague assassins that they for ever after forswore Achil and itsimmediate surroundings. As Dennis Mulcahy remarked, "The ruffians onlywant shtandin' up to, an' they'll not come nixt or near ye. " Mr. Morley would do well to apply this moral to the County Clare. The best authority in Achil said:--"The hat is always going round forthe islanders, who are much better off than the poor of great Englishcities. They have the reputation of being in a state of chronicfamine. This has no foundation in fact. They all have land, one, two, or three cows, and the sea to draw upon. For their land and housesthey pay nothing, or next to nothing; for good land in some cases isto be had for a shilling an acre. The lakes also abound with fish. They glory in their poverty, and hail a partial failure of crops withdelight. They know they will be cared for, and that provisions will beshowered upon them from all sides. They say, 'Please God, we'll have afamine this year, ' and when the contributions pour in they laugh andsing, and say, 'The distress for ever! Long live the famine!' The wordgoes round at stated intervals that they are to 'have a famine. ' Theyjump at the suggestion, act well together, and carry out the ideaperfectly. The Protestants never have any distress which calls forcharitable aid. They live on the same soil, under the same laws, butthey never beg. They pay their rents, too, much more regularly thanthe others, who of late years can hardly be got to pay either rent oranything else. The Protestants are all strong Unionists. The Catholicsare all strong Home Rulers. Their notions of Home Rule are asfollows:--No rent, no police, a poteen still at every door, andpossession of the land now held by Protestants, which is so muchbetter than their own because so much more labour has been expended onit, and for no other reason. Who tells them to 'have a famine'? Why, the same people who arouse and keep alive their enmity to theProtestants; the same people who tell them lies about the earlyhistory of the Colony--lies which the tellers know to be lies, such asthe stories of oppression, spoliation, and of how the mission took theproperty of the islanders with the strong hand, aided by England, thehome of robbery, tyranny, and heresy. The people would be friendlyenough but for their priests. Yet they have marched in processionbefore our houses, blowing defiance by means of a drum and fife band, because we would not join one or other of their dishonest and illegalcombinations. They opened a man's head with a stone, producing adreadful scalp wound, and when Doctor Croly, the greatest favourite inthe whole island, went to dress the wound, five or six of them stoppedhis horse, with the object of giving him a 'bating, ' which would haveended nobody knows how. The doctor produced a revolver, and the heroesvanished like smoke. " The good doctor is himself a Unionist, but more of a philanthropistthan a politician. He is the parish doctor, with eight thousand peopleto look after, the whole being scattered over an immense area. Iaccompanied him on a twenty-mile drive to see a girl down withinfluenza, much of the road being almost impracticable. Some of hisexperiences, coming out incidentally, were strange and startling. Hetold me of a night when the storm was so wild that a man seeking himapproached the surgery on all-fours, and once housed, would not againstir out, though the patient was his own wife. The doctor went aloneand in the storm and blackness narrowly escaped drowning, emergingfrom the Jawun, usually called the Jordan, after an hour's strugglewith the flood, to sit up all night in his wet clothes, tending thepatient. On another occasion a mountain sheep frightened his horsejust as the doctor was filling his pipe. The next passer-by found himinsensible. Nobody might have passed for a month. A similarmisadventure resulted in a broken leg. Then on a pitchy night hewalked over the cliffs, and was caught near the brink by two rockswhich held him wedged tightly until someone found him and pulled himup, with the bag of instruments, which he thinks had saved him. And itwas as well to pause in his flight, for the Menawn Cliffs, with theirthousand feet of clean drop, might have given the doctor an ugly fall. Two girls, whose male relations had gone to England, had not been seenfor three days. Nobody would go near the house. The doctor found themboth on the floor insensible, down with typhus fever, shut up with thepigs and cows, the room and its odour defying description. Theneighbours kept strictly aloof. Dr. Croly swept and garnished, madefires, and pulled the patients through. "Sure, you couldn't expect usto go near whin 'twas the faver, " said the neighbourly Achilese. Mr. Salt, the Brum-born mission agent, was obliged to remain all night onone of the neighbouring islands--islands are a drug hereabouts--andnext morning he found an egg in his hat. Fowls are in nearly all thehouses. Sometimes they have a roost on the ceiling, but they mostlyperch on the family bed, when that full-flavoured Elysium is not onthe floor. I saw an interior which contained one black cow, one blackcalf, some hens, some ducks, two black-and-white pigs, a mother, andeleven children. Where they all slept was a puzzle, as only one bedwas visible. The hens went whir-r-r-up, and perched on the bedstead, when the lady smiled and wished me Good Evening. She looked strong andin good going order. The Achilese say Good Evening all day long. Ayoung girl was grinning in the next doorway, a child of fourteen orfifteen she seemed. "Ye wouldn't think that was a married woman, wouldye now, " said a neighbour, with pardonable pride. "Aye, but she is, though, an' a foin lump iv a son ye have, haven't ye, Maureen. " Mr. Peter Griffin, once a land commissioner, told me that a boy havingapplied for the fixing of a judicial rent, the commissioners expressedtheir surprise upon learning that he was married. "Arrah, now, " saidthe applicant, "sure 'tis not for the sake of the bit that the crathurwould ate that a boy need be widout one o' thim!" In Achil, as elsewhere, the better people are certain that the HomeRule Bill will never become law. From their point of view, the thingseems too absurd to be possible. They are face to face with a class ofIrishmen, among whom civilisation seems to have made no perceptibleprogress for centuries, who scorn every improvement, and are so tiedand bound down by aboriginal ignorance and superstition as to beinsensible to everything but their ancient prejudices. It cannot bepossible, they argue, that Ireland should be given over to thedominion of these people, who, after all, are in the matter ofadvancement and enlightenment fairly representative of the bulk of thevoters for Home Rule all over the country. The civilised community ofAchil are unable to realise the possibility of such a surrender. Theydo not discuss the measure, but rather laugh at it. An able businessman said:-- "We get the daily papers a little old, no doubt, but we follow themvery closely, and we concur in believing that Mr. Gladstone will inthe long run drop the bill. We think he will turn round and say, 'There now. That's all I can do. Haven't I done my best? Haven't Ikept my promise? Now, you can't blame me. The Irishmen see it coming, and they will get out of it as much dramatic effect as possible. Theparty organs are already urging them to open rupture with theGovernment. Compulsion is their game, and no doubt, with Gladstone, itis the most likely game to pay. But he might rebel. He might growtired of eating Irish dirt; he might pluck up spirit enough to tellthese bullies who are jockeying him, and through him the BritishEmpire, to go to the Divil. Then we'd have a fine flare-up. Virtuousindignation and patriotic virtue to the fore! The Irish members willrush over to Ireland, and great demonstrations will be the order ofthe day. The Irish love demonstrations, or indeed anything else whichgives a further excuse for laziness. The priests will orate, themembers will prate, the ruffians elate will shoot or otherwise murdera few people, who will have Mr. Gladstone to thank for their death. For what we wanted was twenty years of resolute government, just asLord Salisbury said, and if Mr. Balfour had been left to carry it outIreland would have come her nearest possible to prosperity andcontentment. But with steady rule one day, and vacillation, wobbling, and surrender the next, what can you expect? The Irish are very smart, cute people, and they soon know where they can take advantage ofweakness. The way these poor Achil folks, those who have been toEngland, can reckon up Mr. Gladstone! They call him a traitor now. Andyet he promises to let the Irish members arrange their own finance!'Here, my boys, ' says he, 'take five millions and spend it your ownway. ' Will John Bull stand that? Will he pay for the rope that is tohang himself? Will he buy the razor to cut his own throat? Where arehis wits? Why does he stand by to witness this unending farce, when heought to be minding serious business? This Irish idiocy is stoppingthe progress of the Empire. Why does not Bull put his foot on it atonce? He must do so in the end. Where are the working men of England?Surely they know enough to perceive that their own personal interestsare involved. "In Achil we have practically peasant proprietary and nothing else. Eleven hundred men and women are at this moment in England andScotland from Achil alone. They will return in October, each bringingback ten, fifteen, or twenty pounds, on which they will live till nextseason. The Irish Legislature would begin by establishing peasantproprietary all over Ireland. The large farmers would disappear, andmen without capital, unable to employ labour, would take their place. Instead of Mayo, you would have the unemployed of the whole thirty-twocounties upon you. Ireland would be pauperised from end to end, foreverybody who could leave it would do so--that is, every person ofmeans--and as for capital and enterprise, what little we have wouldleave us. Which of the Irish Nationalist party would start factories, and what would they make? Can anybody tell me that?" I submitted that Mr. William O'Brien, the member for Cork, might opena concern for the making of breeches, or that Mr. Timothy Healy, themember for Louth, who was reared in a tripe shop, might embark hisuntold gold in the cowheel and trotter business, or might even prove akeen competitor with Walsall in the manufacture of horsewhips, aproduct of industry of which he has had an altogether exceptionalexperience. "Is not this true?" I enquired. My friend admitted the fact, but declined to believe in the factory. Dugort (Achil Island), June 22nd. No. 39. --IRISH UNFITNESS FOR SELF-GOVERNMENT. There stands a city neither large nor small, Its air and situationsweet and pretty. It matters very little if at all. Whether itsdenizens are dull or witty. Whether the ladies there are short ortall, Brunettes or blondes--only there stands a city. Perhaps 'tisalso requisite to minute, That there's a castle and a cobbler in it. It is not big enough to boast a barber. These indispensable adjunctsof civilisation exist in Connaught, but only at rare intervals. Roughly speaking, there is a space of about a hundred miles betweenthem. From Athlone to Dugort, a hundred and thirty miles, there isonly one, both towns inclusive. Castlereagh is a deadly-lively placefor business, but keenly awake to politics. The distressful scienceabsorbs the faculties of the people, who care for little else. Likeall the Keltic Irish, they are great talkers, and, surely, if talkingwere working the Irish would be the richest nation in the world. "Words, words, words, " and no deeds. The Castlereagh folks are growingdespondent. The Irish Parliament that was to remit taxation, presentevery able-bodied man with a farm, do away with landlords and police, and reduce the necessity for work to a minimum, seems to them furtheroff than ever. They complain that once again the people of Irelandhave been betrayed. Mr. Gladstone has done it all. To be sure theynever trusted him, but they thought him an instrument in the hands ofFate and the Irish Parliamentary party. Spite of all he is supposed tohave done for the Irish, Mr. Gladstone is not popular in Ireland, and, as I pointed out months ago, they from the first declined to believein his sincerity. They rightly regarded his action anent Home Rule asthe result of compulsion, and, rightly or wrongly, believed that hewould take the first opportunity of throwing over the whole scheme. That he should act thus treacherously (they say) is precisely whatmight be expected from an impartial review of his whole career, whichpresents an unequalled record of in-and-out running--consistent onlyin its inconsistency. Having apparently ridden straight for awhile, itis now time to expect some "pulling. " His shameful concessions to theUnionist party may be taken as a clear indication of his congenitalcrookedness, and the refusal of the Nationalists at Killybegs, on thevisit of Lord Houghton, the other day, to give a single shout for theGrand Old Man, bears out my previous statement as to the popularfeeling. Amid the carefully organised show of enthusiasm and mockloyalty which greeted the visit of the Viceroy, not a cheer could beraised for Mr. Gladstone. The local wirepullers did their best, butthe priests who for weeks have been arranging their automata, at thelast moment found that the dummies would not work. There were roundsof cheering for this, that, and the other, and when the mob were infull cry, someone shouted, "Three cheers for Mr. Gladstone. " Deadsilence. The Gladstonian Viceroy and his following were left high anddry. The flood of enthusiasm instantly receded, and the beating oftheir own hearts was the only sound they heard. Mr. Morley's namewould have obtained a like reception. The people were doubtlesswilling to obey their leaders, and to make some slight sacrifice toexpediency, but every man left that particular cheer to his neighbour. Hence the fiasco for which the people have already been severelyreprimanded. Someone should have called for cheers for Balfour. Anyonewho knows the West of Ireland knows there would have been an outburstof hurrahs, hearty and spontaneous. The Irish are delightfullyillogical. A respectable old Fenian had a poor opinion of the present Home Ruleagitation. He said:--"I am of the school of Stephens and Mitchel. Whena people or nation is radically discontented with its rulers it shouldthrow them off by force. If the Irish could hold together long enoughto maintain an armed insurrection for two weeks only, help would beforthcoming from all quarters. When a young man I cherished the hopethat this would be accomplished, but I have long abandoned the notionthat anything of the kind will be possible in my time. For individualEnglishmen I have as much friendship as anybody, not being himself anEnglishman, can entertain. What I dislike is English rule, and thepresent movement does not interest me, because its leaders professallegiance--for the present, anyhow. No doubt the general idea is toobtain as much advantage as possible, and to gradually increase thestrength of Ireland; but, in my opinion, the Fenian movement was thetrue and legitimate method, and the one best suited to the genius ofthe Irish nation. Notwithstanding all that has been said and writtenby English speakers and writers, the movement was worthy of honour, and had it been successful, would have received high praise andcommendation from every country except England. To be respectable, revolutions or insurrections must be successful, or at any rate, musthave a certain amount of success to commence with. The English peoplenever properly understood the Fenian movement. To begin with, the nameof Fenians was not assumed by the Irish body of conspirators. TheFenians proper were entirely confined to America, where they actedunder the instructions of John O'Mahony, with Michael and ColonelCorcoran as lieutenants. The Colonel commanded the Irish brigade ofthe American army, and was pledged to bring over a strong contingentat the right moment. The Irish party in Ireland under Stephens wascalled the Irish Revolutionary Brotherhood, to which I am proud to sayI belonged. That is all over now, and I am content to be loyal, undercompulsion. There is nothing else for it. The young men are all goneto America, and the failure of the enterprise has damaged the prestigeof the cause. The organisation was very good, and you might say thatthe able-bodied population belonged to it, almost to a man. Englandnever knew, does not know even now, how universal was the movement. The escape of James Stephens, the great Number One, from RichmondBridewell, was something of an eye-opener, but not half so astonishingas some things that would have happened if the general movement hadbeen successful. It was Daniel Byrne and James Breslin, who let himout. Byrne was a turnkey, Breslin was hospital superintendent, andboth held their posts on account of their well-known loyalty. Byrnewas found out, or rather it was discovered that he was a Fenian, butthey could not prove his guilt in the Stephens affair, and he neverrounded on Breslin, who went on drawing his screw from the BritishGovernment for many a long day, until he took a trip to America, wherehis services to the cause landed him in a good situation. So he stayedthere, and told everything, and that was the first the BritishGovernment knew about it, beyond suspicion of Byrne. "If Stephens had made up his mind for an outbreak the funeral ofMacManus was the right occasion. He missed his tip then, and nomistake. There never was another chance like that. He said thearrangements were not complete, and from that moment the thingdwindled away, and we who were working it up in the rural districtsbegan to think he did not really mean business. We were short of arms, but a small success would have improved our condition in that respect. Lots of the country organisers went to Dublin to see his funeral, andwhen we saw the crowds and the enthusiasm we all agreed that such achance was not likely to occur again. MacManus had been a chief of theinsurrectionary movement of 1848, and had been transported for life toBotany Bay, I think. He escaped to America, and died there in 1861. Mahony, the Fenian commander-in-chief, proposed to spend some of therevolutionary funds in bringing the body to Ireland, there to give ita public funeral. This was a great idea, and as the Government did notinterfere, it turned out a greater success than anyone hadanticipated. There were delegates from every city in America, and fromevery town in Ireland. It took about a month to lug MacManus from theFar West to Dublin, and the excitement increased every day. In mylittle place we collared all the timid fellows who had been holdingback before, until there was not a single man of the peasant classoutside the circle. MacManus was worth more dead than alive. "A hundred thousand men followed the hearse through the streets ofDublin. At the critical moment Number One held back. If the streetshad been barricaded on the evening of the funeral the country wouldhave stood an excellent chance of obtaining its independence. Themoment was missed, and such chances never come twice. The French wouldhave made a big thing of that affair. Stephens was great atorganisation, but he had not the pluck to carry out the enterprise. Hehad not the military training required, nor the decision to act at theright moment. So here we are and here we shall remain, and I am yourhumble, obedient, loyal servant to command. "No, I do _not_ believe in the present leaders at all. I think theywant to be paid big salaries as Irish statesmen, and that they areunfit to clean the boots of the men with whom I acted thirty yearsago. The Fenians, or rather the Irish Revolutionary Brotherhood, hadno wish to make money by their patriotism, and what is more, they wereready to risk their skins, whenever called upon to do so. They werewilling to fight. These chaps do nothing but spout. The I. R. B. Agreedamong themselves, and obeyed orders. These fellows can't agree forfive minutes together, and their principal subject of quarrel is--Whoshall be master? Gladstone is fooling them now, and good enough forthem. A pretty set of men to attempt to govern a country! They don'tknow what they want. We did. We swore every man to obedience to theIrish Republic. That was straightforward enough. The young 'uns roundhere have the same aspirations, but they dislike the idea of fighting. They expect to get round it some other way. "John Kennedy, of Westport, damaged the cause in Mayo more than anyman in Ireland. He was a young fellow of about five-and-twenty, only afew years in the constabulary, but somehow he got into sworn meetingsin disguise, and burst the whole thing up. The queerest feature aboutthis business is the fact that although everybody knew the man not ashot was ever fired at him. That shows the fairness of the Fenians. Amember of the Brotherhood would have been promptly dealt with, youbet. But Kennedy was an open enemy, and had a right to circumvent usif he could. Give us credit for some chivalrous feeling. We certainlydeserved it, as this case amply proves. "The Land League? The Ruffian League, the Burglar League, thePickpocket League, the Murder League--that's what I always called it. A hole-and-corner way of carrying on the fight, which had been begunby MEN, but which the latest fashion of Irishmen have not the courageto canduct as men. The Fenian conception was high-souled, and had someromance about it. We had a green flag with a rising sun on it, alongwith the harp of Erin. Our idea was an open fight against the BritishEmpire. There's as much difference between the Fenians and theirsuccessors as between the ancient Romans and the Italian organ-grinderswith monkeys. Good morning, Sir, and--God save the Queen. " This was a jocosity if not a mockery, but it was the first time I hadheard the words in Ireland. The tune is almost unknown, and thecurrent issue of _United Ireland_ ridicules the notion that the Irishare going to learn it. The band of the Royal Irish Constabulary, playing in front of their barracks in the Phoenix Park, Dublin, onFriday evenings, sometimes include the tune in their programme, butwhen I heard them it was led up to and preceded by "St. Patrick's Dayin the Mornin', " to which it was conjoined by one intervening chord. ACastlereagh Protestant said:-- "The children here are taught to curse the Queen in their cradles. Don't know how it is, but hatred to England seems bred in the bone ofthe Catholic Irish. They make no secret of their hopes of vengeance. The Protestants will have to levant in double-quick time. The peoplehere hate Protestants, whether English or Irish, likewise anybody whoholds a Government appointment. Some few days ago I was at Westport, and while in the post office there, a beggar asked Mr. Hildebrand foralms. You know that every western town swarms with beggars. He saidNo, and this tramp immediately turned round and said:-- "'We'll very soon have ye out o' that, _now_. ' "A relative of mine, who holds a sub-office, has been told the samething fifty times. There you have the spirit of the poorer people. Anddon't forget that the illiterates have the power in their hands. Justthink what this means. "In England, with all your agricultural districts, with all your backslums of cities, there was only one person in each hundred and seventywho could not write his name, or at all events, one in a hundred andseventy who was unable to manage his voting paper. "In Ireland the figures were one in every five, and of the remaindertwo at least were barely able to perform so simple an operation asmaking a cross against the right name. Are these people fit to governthemselves? "There were two polling booths in Westport. There were three priestsat each door. Tell the English people that, and see what they think ofit. "A Scotch gentleman staying in Westport during the late 'mission' wasstopped at the door of the Roman Catholic Church. He was not permittedto enter, because the priests are ashamed to show civilised people thecredulity and crass ignorance of their congregation. At one of theseservices everybody held a lighted candle, and at a given signal, Puff!out went out the lights, and with them away went the sins of thepeople. "A priest was sent for in Achil. The case was urgent. A man was dying, and without Extreme Unction his chances in the next world werereckoned shady. The priest was enjoying himself in some festivity, andthe man died before his salvation arrived. A relative declared hewould tell the bishop. The priest reassured him with a scrap of paper, whereon were written these words, signed by himself, 'Saint Peter. Admit bearer. ' 'Stick that in the dead man's fist, ' said he. The manwent away delighted. These are the intelligent voters whose influenceis now paramount in the Parliament of England. It is by these pooruntutored savages, manipulated by their priests, that the BritishEmpire is now worked. The semi-civilised peasants of Connaught, withthe ignorant herds of Leinster and Munster, at the bidding of theirclergy have completely stopped the course of legislation, and left thelong-suffering and industrious working men of England and Scotland towait indefinitely for all the good things they want. The cry is, Ireland stops the way. Why doesn't England kick it out of the way? "Turn about is fair play. Let England have a turn now. Fair play is ajewel, and Ireland has fair play. Ireland has privileges of whichneither England nor Scotland can boast. The Protestants of Ireland areeverywhere prosperous and content. The Catholics of Ireland areeverywhere impoverished and discontented. Wherever you go you findthis an invariable rule. The two sects may hold their farms from thesame landlord, on precisely similar terms, and you will find that theProtestants pay their rent, and get on, while the Catholics don't pay, and go from bad to worse. " "Is this extraordinary difference the result of British rule?" Many a time I have asked Catholics this question. They cannot explainthe marked difference on the ground of alien government, as both aresubject to the same. They will say, 'Oh, Protestants are always welloff, ' as if the thing were a matter of course, and must be looked uponas inevitable. But why? I ask. That they can never tell. Stand on a big hill near Tipperary and you will see four RomanCatholic churches of modern build, costing nearly a hundred thousandpounds. Father Humphreys will tell you how the money was raised, willshow you over Tipperary Cathedral, and will let you see the pig-styesin which the people are housed. That is the man of God who wrote tothe papers and complained that it had been reported that the Catholicclergy of Tipperary had done all they could to stop boycotting. FatherHumphreys said:--"I protest against this libel on me. _I am doingnothing to stop boycotting. _" A neighbour of my friend spoke of many changes he had witnessed in thepolitical opinions of people who had become resident in Ireland, having previously been Gladstonians in England. He said:--"When theAchil Sound viaduct was opened, chiefly by the efforts of a NorthernProtestant who gave £1, 500 towards the cost, a Scotchman named Cowanwas chief engineer. He came over a rabid Home Ruler, and such aworshipper of Mr. Gladstone as cannot be found out of Scotland. In sixmonths he was Unionist to the backbone, and not only Unionist butConservative. The Achil folks, when once the bridge was built andgiven to them, decided to call it Michael Davitt Bridge. It had notcost them a penny, nor had they any part in it. At the priest's ordersthey rushed forward to christen it; it was all they were good for. They put up a big board with the name. Cowan went down alone, he couldnot get a soul with pluck to go with him, and chopped the thing down, the Achil Nationalists looking on. In the night they put up anotherboard, a big affair on the trunk of a tree, all well secured. Cowanwent down and felled it as before, watching it drift away with tide. Then they gave it up. They wouldn't go Three! Carnegie, the Customsman, came here a strong Home Ruler. Looking back, he says he cannotconceive how he could be such an ass. A very cute Scotchman, too. Someof the Gladstonians mean well. I don't condemn them wholesale, likefather does. You should hear him drop on English Home Rulers. Heunderstands the Irish agitator, but the English Separatist beats him. I have been in England, and several times in Birmingham, and I haveheard them talk. Father is very peppery, but I moderate histransports. Speaking of the English Home Rulers he'll say-- "'Pack o' rogues. ' "'No, no, ' says I, 'only fools. ' "'Infernal idiots, ' says he. "'No, no, ' says I, 'only ignorant. ' "As I said, I have been in England, and have heard them talk, so Iknow. " He asked me if I had noticed the external difference between Irishcommunities which support Home Rule and those which support the Union. I said that a contrast so striking must impress the most casualobserver, for that, on the one hand, Unionism is always coupled withcleanliness and decency, while on the other the intimate relationshipapparently existing between Home Rule and dunghills is most suggestiveand surprising. Unionism and order: Separatism and ordure--that is about the sum. Castlereagh, June 24th. No. 40. --OBJECT LESSONS IN IRISH SELF-GOVERNMENT. A small town with a great name, about one hundred miles west ofDublin. There is a ruined castle, and one or two ruined abbeys, butnothing else of interest, unless it be the herons which stalk aboutthe streams in its environs, and the Royston crows with white or graybreast and back, which seem to be fairly numerous in these parts. Ireland is a wonderful country for crows and ravens, which hop aboutthe village streets as tame as barndoor fowls. A King of Connaught isburied in Saint Coenan's Abbey, but dead kings are almost as common ascrows, and Phelim O'Connor seems to have done nothing worthy ofmention beyond dying in 1265. I had hardly landed when I met a verypronounced anti-Home Ruler, a grazier, apparently a smart businessman, and seemingly well up in the controversy. He said:--"I haveargued the question all over Ireland, and believe I have made as manyconverts as anybody. Many of my countrymen have been carried away bythe popular cry, but when once they have the thing put to them fromthe other side, and have time to think, they begin to have theirdoubts. Naturally they first lean to the idea of an Irish Parliament. It flatters Irish feeling, and when men look around and see thecountry so poor and so backward they want to try some change or other. The agitators see their opportunity, and say, 'All this results fromEnglish interference. If we managed our own affairs we should bebetter off all round. ' This sounds plausible, and agrees with thetraditional distrust of England which the people have inherited frompast ages. Men who are fairly intelligent, and fairly reasonable, willsay, 'We can't be worse off than we are at present. ' That is a stockargument all over the country. The people who use it think it settlesthe business. The general poverty of the people is the strength of theHome Rule position. The priests tell them that a Government composedof Irishmen would see them right, and would devote itself to lookingafter their interests; and really the people have nobody to tell themanything else. Nor are they likely to hear the other side, for theyare only allowed to read certain papers, and if Englishmen ofcharacter and ability were to attempt to stump the country they wouldnot get a hearing. The clergy would make it warm for anybody who daredto attend a Unionist meeting. So _that_ process is altogether out ofthe question. Isolated Roman Catholic Unionists like myself need to bein a very strong and independent position before they dare to expresstheir views. Roman Catholics of position are nearly all Unionists atheart, but comparatively few of them dare avow their real convictions. To do so is to couple yourself with the obnoxious land question. Thepeople, as a whole, detest landlords and England, and they think thatan opponent of Home Rule is necessarily a sympathiser with Britishrule and landlordism, and therefore a foe to his country and a traitorto his countrymen. Few men have the moral courage to face thisindictment. That is why the educated Catholic party, as a whole, hangback. And then, they dislike to put themselves in direct opposition totheir clergy. Englishmen do not care one jot what the parson thinks oftheir political opinions, but in Ireland things are very different. Iam against Home Rule because I am sure it would be bad for Ireland. The prosperity of the country is of some importance to me, and for myown sake and apart from sentimental considerations, and for the creditof Ireland, I am against Home Rule. We should be poorer than ever. Iwould not trust the present Irish party to manage anything thatrequired management. They have not the training, nor the businesscapacity, nor sufficient consistency to work together for a singleweek. They cannot agree even at this critical moment, when by theirown showing, the greatest harmony of action is required in theinterests of Ireland. I say nothing about their honesty, for the mostscrupulously honest men could not succeed without business ability andunited action. They are a set of talkers, good for quibbling andsquabbling and nothing more. "They are M. P. 's because they can talk. Paddy loves a glib talker, anda fellow with a good jaw on him would always beat the best businessman, even if Paddy were allowed his own choice. Of course he has nochoice--he votes as the priest tells him; but then the selected menwere all good rattling talkers, not in the House, perhaps, but intheir own country district in Ireland. Paddy thinks talking meansability, and when a fellow rattles off plenty of crack-jaw words andred-hot abuse of England, Paddy believes him able to regenerate theworld. These men are not allowed to speak in the House. They onlyvote. But let me tell you they are kings in their own country. "Since Parnell ordered his followers to contest all the electiveBoards in Ireland, the Nationalist party have almost monopolised thePoor Law Boards, with the result that nearly every one has been openlybankrupt, or else is in a state of present insolvency. Mr. Morley hasbeen asked for particulars but has declined to give them. He knowsthat the list of insolvent Poor Law Boards in Ireland, if once givenwith particulars, to the British public, would show up the prospectsof Home Rule in such a damaging way that 'the cause' would neversurvive the shock. Why does not the Unionist party bring about thisexposure? Surely the information is obtainable, if not from Mr. Morley, then from some other source. "Why are they bankrupt? you ask. Partly through incompetence; partlythrough corruption. In every case of declared bankruptcy Governmenthas sent down vice-Guardians receiving three hundred pounds to fivehundred pounds a year, and notwithstanding this additional burden tothe rates the vice-Guardians in every case have paid off all debts andleft a balance in hand inside of two years. Then they retire, and thehonorary Guardians come back to scuttle the ship again. Tell theEnglish people that. Mr. Morley cannot deny it. You have told them?Then tell them again, and again. "In the Killarney Union the Nationalists ran up the rates from onethousand seven hundred pounds to three thousand six hundred pounds. More distress? Not a bit of it. But even admitting this, how would youaccount for the fact that the cost ran up from sixteen shillings ahead to twenty-five shillings a head for every person relieved? "The Listowel Union was perhaps the biggest scandal in the country. The Unionist Guardians relieved the people at a cost of five shillingsa head. The Nationalists got in and relieved them at a cost of fifteenshillings a head. And there wasn't a reduction on taking a quantity, for the Unionists only had two hundred on the books, while theNationalists had two thousand or more. "At the same period exactly those Unions which remained under the oldrule showed little or no increase in the rates. Kenmare remainedUnionist, and when the great rise in poor-law expenses followed theelection of Nationalist Guardians Kenmare spent less money than ever. "The Nationalist Guardians have been vising the poor rates to rewardtheir friends and to punish the landlords. They have been fighting thelandlords with money raised from the landlords by means of poor rates. Evicted tenants generally received a pound or twenty-five shillings aweek out-door relief. This punishes the landlords, and saves the fundsof the Land League, now called the National League. Ingenious, isn'tit? These are the men who form the class furnishing the IrishParliamentary party. These bankrupt, incompetent, and fraudulentGuardians are the men with whom English Gladstonians are closelyallied. The Board meetings are usually blackguardly beyonddescription. You have no idea to what extremes they go. No Irishmanwho loves his country would trust her to the tender mercies of thesefellows. " I have not yet been present at any meeting of an Irish Poor Law Board, and probably, as my friend remarked, I "do not know to what extremesthey go. " The _Mayo News_ of a week or two ago reported an ordinarymeeting of the Westport Board, and I noticed that one Guardian accusedhis colleagues of stealing the potatoes provided out of the rates forthe paupers. This was reported in a Nationalist print edited by agentleman who has had the honour of being imprisoned for Land Leaguebusiness. The report was evidently verbatim, and has not beencontradicted. The Westport folks took no notice of the affair, whichmay therefore be assumed as representing the dead level of an IrishPoor Law debate. To what sublime altitudes they may occasionally rise, to "what extremes" they sometimes go, I know not. The College GreenParliament, manned by such members, would have a peculiar interest. The Speaker might be expected to complain that his umbrella (recentlyre-covered) had mysteriously disappeared. The Chancellor of theExchequer might accuse the President of the Board of Trade of havingappropriated the National stationery, and the Master of the Rollsmight rise to declare that a sanguinary ruffian from Ulster had"pinched his wipe. " The sane inhabitants of the Emerald Isle affirmthat Home Rule would be ruinous to trade, but the vendors ofshillelaghs and sticking-plaster would certainly have a high old time. An Englishman who has had exceptional opportunities of examining thematter said:--"I don't care so much for Irish interests as for Englishinterests, and I am of opinion that no Englishman in a position toform a correct judgment would for one moment support the bill. Thetension is off us now, because we feel that the danger to a greatextent is over. The bill could not be expected to survive a publicexamination. The Gladstonians themselves must now see that the schemewas not only absurd and impossible, but iniquitous. Under a Home RuleBill their native land would cut a sorry figure, such as would almostshame the milk-sop Radical party, 'friends of every country but theirown. ' A Government with a sufficient majority to carry a Britishmeasure might at any time be turned out of office by the eighty Irishmembers, who could at any time make their votes the price of somefurther concession. And you know the character of the men, howthoroughly unscrupulous they are. All are enemies of England, and yetwe who know them and the feeling of their constituencies are asked tobelieve that they would never abuse their powers. Why give them thetemptation? Then, whatever debts Ireland might incur England wouldhave to pay, should Ireland repudiate them? The bill provides thatEngland shall be ultimately responsible for three-quarters of amillion annually for the servants of the Crown in Ireland, suchservants being at the orders of the Irish Legislature. It is a divorcecase, wherein the husband is to be responsible for the wife's debtsincurred after separation. This is Mr. Gladstone's fine proposition. And then England will have no police under her control to makedefaulters pay up. You can't make the people pay rent and taxes withall your present force. How are you going to collect the two or threemillions of Ireland's share in Imperial expenditure without any forceat all? The police will be at the orders of the Irish Parliament, which will be returned by the very men who will owe the money. 'Ohyes!' say Dillon, Healy, O'Brien, and all the rest of the No Rent andLand League men. 'We'll see that the money is paid. ' The previoushistory of these men ought to be enough for Englishmen. But if TimHealy and Co. Wished the money to be paid, they would have no power. They must take their orders from the people. How would you collect theinterest on the eighteen or twenty millions Ireland now owes? Thepolice and civil officers would, under a Home Rule Bill, be theservants of the Irish Government, and would have no sympathy withEngland. A hitch would very soon arise between the two Parliamentseither on the interpretation of this or that clause, or else becausethe Irish Parliament fell short of its duty in collecting the tribute. The Irish Government would stand firm, and would be supported bypriests and people. The British Grenadiers would then come in, andwhere would be the Union of Hearts? Irishmen are fond of a catch-word. Like the French, they will go to death for a phrase. But the Union ofHearts never tickled them. The words never fell from Irish lips exceptin mockery. "Protection would be the great rallying cry of a Home Rule Government. The bill refuses power to impose protective duties, but Ireland wouldcommence by conceding bounties to Irish manufacturers, who would thereand then be able to undersell English traders. No use going furtherinto the thing, there is not a good point in it for either country. Nouse flogging a dead horse. There never will be any Home Rule, andthere's no use in discussing it. A liberal measure of LocalSelf-Government will be the upshot of this agitation, nothing more. And that will come from the Tory party, the only friends of poorIreland. " The Parnellites are strong in Roscommon, and to hear them revile thepriests is both strange and sad. These are the only Catholics whoresent clerical dictation. They seem in a quandary. Their action seemsinconsistent with their expressed sentiments. They plainly see thatHome Rule means Rome Rule, and, while deprecating priestly influence, they do their best to put the country into priestly hands. They speakof the Anti-Parnellites with contempt and aversion, calling themrogues and vagabonds, liars and traitors, outside the pale ofcivilisation, and yet they work for Home Rule, which would put theirbeloved Ireland in the power of the very men whose baseness and crassincompetence they cannot characterise in terms sufficiently strong. For the Anti-Parnellites outnumber the Parnellites by eight to one; sothat the smaller party, although monopolising all virtue, grace andintellect, would have no show at all, unless, indeed, the Nationalistswere further subdivided, on which contingency the Parnellites probablycount with certainty. I interviewed a champagny little man whose viewswere very decided. He said:-- "I think the seventy-three Federationists, as they want to be called, are not only traitors to the greatest Irishmen of the age, but alsomean-spirited tools of the Catholic bishops. A man may have properrespect for his faith, and may yet resent the dictation of his familypriest. I admit his superior knowledge of spiritual matters, but Ithink I know what politics suit me best, and I send him to therightabout. Let him look after the world to come. That's his business. I'm going to look after this world for myself. The main differencebetween the Parnellites and the Anti-Parnellites is just this--theParnellites keep themselves independent of any English party; theAnti-Parnellites have identified themselves with the English Liberals, and bargain with them. My view is this, that the English Radicals willuse the Irish party for their own ends, that they want to utilise themin carrying out the Newcastle programme, and that having so used themthe Irishmen may go and hang themselves. 'We give you Home Rule andyou give us the Newcastle budget'--that's the present arrangement. Butafter that? What then? Ireland will want the Home Rule Bill amended. The first bill (if ever we get it) must be very imperfect, and willwant no end of improvement. It is bound to be a small, mean affair, and will want expansion and breadth. Then the Radicals will chuck overthe Anti-Parnellites, who will be equally shunted by the Tories, andwe shall be left hanging in the air. The Parnellites aim at gettingeverything on its merits, and decline to identify themselves with anyparty. They wish to be called Independents. And they one and alldecline to be managed by the priests. The seventy-threeAnti-Parnellites are entirely managed by the Clerical party. They haveno will of their own any more than the pasteboard men you see in theshop windows, whose legs and arms fly up and down, when you pull astring. They are just like Gladstonians in that respect. " The Parnellites are hard up, and their organ asks America for cash. The dauntless nine want six thousand pounds for pocket-money and hotelexpenses. The cause of Ireland demands this sacrifice. After so manycontributions, surely America will not hold back at the suprememoment. The Anti-Parnellites are bitterly incensed. To actindependently of their faction was of itself most damnable, but stillit could be borne. To ask for money from America, to put in a claimfor coppers which might have flowed into Anti-Parnellite pockets, shows a degradation, an unspeakable impudence for which the _Freeman_cannot find adequate adjectives. The priest-ridden journal speaks ofits fellow patriots as caluminators and liars, tries to describe their"baseness, " their "inconceivable insolence and inconceivablestupidity, " and breaks down in the effort. A column and a half ofspace is devoted to calling the Parnellites ill names such as wereformerly applied by Irish patriots to Mr. Gladstone. And all becausethey compete for the cents of Irish-American slaveys and bootblacks. The Parnellites are not to be deterred by mere idle clamour. Bothparties are accustomed to be called liars and rogues, and both partiesaccept the appellations as a matter of course. Nothing can stop themwhen on the trail of cash. Is Irish sentiment to be again disappointedfor a paltry six thousand pounds? Is the Sisyphean stone of Home Rule, so laboriously rolled uphill, to again roll down, crushing in its fallthe faithful rollers? Will not some American millionaire come forwardwith noble philanthropy _and_ six thousand pounds to rescue and tosave the most beautiful, the most unfortunate country in the worldfrom further disappointment? Only six thousand pounds now required forthe great ultimate, or penultimate, or antepenultimate effort. Anothertwopence and up goes the donkey! Roscommon, June 27th. No. 41. --THE CHANGED SPIRIT OF THE CAPITAL. The Dubliners have quite given up the bill. The Unionist party haveregained their calm, and the Nationalists are resigned to theposition. Nobody, of whatever political colour, or however sanguine, now expects the measure to become law. The Separatist rank and filenever hoped for so much luck, and their disappointment is thereforeanything but unbearable. My first letter indicated this lack of faithand also its cause. The Dublin folks never really believed a BritishParliament would so stultify itself. The old lady who, on my arrival, said "We'll get Home Rule when a pair of white wings grows out o' meshoulders, an' I fly away like a big blackburd, " finds her pendant inthe jarvey, who this morning said, "If we'd got the bill I would havebeen as much surprised as if one o' me childhren got the moon byroarin' for it. " Distrust of Mr. Gladstone is more prevalent thanever, and the prophets who all along credited that pious statesmanwith rank insincerity are now saying "I towld ye so. " TheLord-Lieutenant is making his Viceregal progress in an ominoussilence. The Limerick people let him go without a cheer. At Foynessomething like a procession was formed, with the parish priest at itshead; but the address read by his Rivirince reads very like ascolding. It points out that "our rivers are at present withoutshipping, our mills and factories are idle, and it is a sad sight tosee our beautiful Shannon, where all her Majesty's fleet could safelyride on the estuary of its waters, without almost a ship ofmerchandise on its surface on account of the general decay of ourtrade and commerce. " The address further shows that "we enjoy acombination of natural advantages in the shape of a secure, shelteredanchorage, together with railway and telegraph in immediate proximityto the harbour and the pier, and postal service twice daily, bothinwards and outwards, and a first-class quality of pure water laid onto the pier. The facility for landing or embarking troops, or fordischarging or loading goods or stores is as near perfection aspossible, and having a range of depth of water of twenty-five feet atlow-water spring tide, the harbour can accommodate ships of deepdraught at any state of the tide. " These advantages, mostly owing toBritish rule, with others, such as the "unique combination of mountainand river scenery, " were not enumerated as subjects for thankfulness, but rather by way of reproach, the effect of the whole address being aveiled indictment of British rule. No doubt Lord Houghton's firstimpulse would be to exclaim, "Then why on earth don't you use youradvantages? With good quays, piers, storehouses, and a broad deepriver, opening on the Atlantic, why don't you do some business?" Buthe promised to do his best to send them a guard-ship, in order thatthe crew might spend some money in the district. The Galway folksasked him to do something for them. My previous letters have shown theincapacity of the Galwegians to do anything for themselves, and how, being left to their own devices--having, in fact, a full enjoyment oflocal Home Rule--their incompetence has saddled the city with a debtof fifty thousand pounds for which they have practically nothing toshow, except an additional debt of one thousand pounds decreed againstthem for knocking the bottom out of a coaling vessel during their"improving" operations, which sum they never expect to pay, as theharbour tolls are collected by the Board of Works, which thusendeavours to indemnify itself for having lent them the "improvement"funds. The Killybegs folks showed the poor Viceroy their bay and toldhim what wonderful things they could do if they only had a pier, or aquay, or something. The Achil folks formerly said the same thing. Twopiers were built but no man ever goes near them. The Mulranney folkspointed out that while Clew Bay, and particularly the nook of itcalled Mulranney Bay, was literally alive with fish, the starvingpeasants of the neighbourhood could do nothing for want of a pier. Thebrutal Saxon built one at once--a fine handsome structure, at once apier, a breakwater, and a harbour, with boat-slips and three stageswith steps, so that boats could be used at any tide. I stepped thismassive and costly piece of masonry, and judged it to be a hundredyards long. There were six great mooring posts, but not a boat insight, nor any trace of fishing operations. A broad new road to thepier was cut and metalled, but no one uses it. The fishing village ofMulranney, with its perfect appointments, would not in twelve monthsfurnish you with one poor herring. The pier of Killybegs wouldprobably be just as useful to the neighbourhood. The Dublin Nationalist prints make some show of fight, but the peopleheed them not. They know too well that their inward conviction thatHome Rule is for the present defunct is founded on rock. In vain theparty writers use the whip. Your Irishman is cute enough to know whenhe is beaten. The new-born regard of the Irish press for Parliamentarypurity is comical enough. Obstruction is the thing they hate. Ungentlemanly conduct in the House stinks in their nostrils. Fair playis their delight, and underhand dealing they particularly abhor. Mr. Gladstone is too lenient, and although his failings lean to virtue'sside, his action is too oily altogether. He is old and weak, andlubricates too much. They in effect accuse him of fatty degenerationof the brain. Something heroic must be done. Those low-bred ruffians, the Unionists, must be swept from the path of Erin, while her eloquentsons, actuated by patriotism and six pounds a week, and spurred on bythe hope of even a larger salary, obtain after seven centuries someshow of justice to Ireland. The Irish wire-pullers demand decisiveaction. They declare that they will no longer submit to the"happy-go-lucky policy of the gentlemen who survey life from theMinisterial benches. " They must "put themselves in fighting form andshow their supporters that they mean business. " "Unless the Ministrymean to throw up the sponge they had better begin the fighting atonce. " The Irish party "are looking for the action of the Governmentwhich is to make it evident to the Opposition that the majority meanto rule in the House of Commons, for unless this be done Parliamentarygovernment becomes a farce. " If Mr. Gladstone continues the policy ofhesitation and waiting on Providence, the fate of Home Rule, and withit the fate of the Liberal party, are sealed. "Obstruction" (says theParnellite paper) cannot be permitted!" It is the revelation of theimpotency of Parliament, and Parliamentary procedure must be replacedby some quicker means of effecting reform. Mr. Gladstone's feeblenessis an incitement to revolution. The Dublin press would manage thesethings better. An autumn session must not be adventured. If the Houseshould rise before the bill has passed the Commons such a confessionof weakness would fatally damage the Government prestige. The Housemust "be kept in permanent session, and not kept too long, " whichsounds like a bull, but the next sentence is plain enough. "The obvious policy is to at once take the Opposition by the throat. That will excite enthusiasm, and convince the people that a LiberalGovernment is good for something. " The Nationalist prints are assuming the office of candid friend, apart which suits them admirably, and in the performance of which theymake wonderful guesses at truth. The Gladstonian Ministry "arehelpless and impotent in the hands of their opponents. The reforms soardently desired by the people are seen to be mere mirages, called upto win the votes of the people for men who, once in office, make noreal effort to enforce the mandate given to them by the country. " TheLiberal Ministry will be "swept out of existence because the peoplewill come to recognise that their promises and programmes are so manyhollow phrases, incapable of ministering to the needs or satisfyingthe aspirations of the multitude. " "The real tug of war, " says thisHome Rule sheet, "will come in the next election. " If IrishSeparatists talk like this, what do Irish Unionists say? Very little, indeed. They are disposed to rest and be thankful. Theyonly want to be let alone. They are quiet and reserved, and thanktheir stars that the worst is over. The nervousness, the high-strungtension of three months ago, is conspicuous by its absence. Theyfeared that the thing would be rushed, and that Mr. Bull would stampthe measure without looking at it, would be glad to get rid of it atany price, would say to Ireland, "Take it, get out of my sight, and behanged to ye!" Thanks to the Unionist leaders, whose ability anddevotion are here warmly recognised, the Dubliners know no fear. Theridiculous abortion has been dragged into the sunlight, and ruthlesslydissected. John's commonsense can be trusted, once he examines forhimself, and worthy Irishmen lie down in peace. The graver Dublinersprefer to speak of something else. The young bloods still make fun ofthe "patriots, " and conjure up illimitable vistas of absurdpossibilities under an Irish Government. They invariably place thehypothetic Cabinet under the direct orders of Archbishop Walsh, andcontinue to make fun of that great hierarch's famous malediction onFreemasonry. The good Archbishop, they say, takes a large size incurses. They declare that his curse on the Masonic bazaar for orphanswas a marvel of comprehensive detail; that it cursed thestall-holders, the purchasers, the tea-pot cosies and fender-stools, the five-o'clock tea-tables and antimacassars, the china ornaments, and embroidered slippers, with every individual bead; the dolls, bothlarge and small; the bran that stuffed the dolls, and the very squeakswhich resulted from a squeeze on the doll's ribs. Never was heard sucha terrible curse. But what gave rise to no little surprise, nobodyseemed one penny the worse. These scoffers propose to discontinue thehabit of swearing. When the Archbishop produces no effect, what's thegood of a plain layman's cursing? They declare that the dentists ofDublin are all Home Rulers, and that the selfishness of theirpolitical faith is disgustingly obvious. These mocking Unionistsdiscuss probable points of etiquette likely to arise in theLegislature of College Green, and dispute as to whether members willbe allowed to attend with decidedly black eyes, or whether they willbe excluded until the skin around their orbs has arrived at the paleyellow stage. Some are of opinion that no Cabinet Minister should beallowed to sit while wearing raw beefsteak, and a story is going therounds to the effect that some of the Irish members recently wished tocross the Channel for half-a-crown each, and to that end called on aboat agent, a Tory, who knew them, when the following conversationtook place:-- "Can we go across for half-a-crown each?" "No, ye can't, thin. " "An' why not?" "Because 'tis a cattle boat. " "Never mind that, sure we're not particular. " "No, but the cattle are. " There was a great rush for Dynamitard Daly's letter, and some of hissentences were made subjects of leading articles in the Nationalistpress. One paragraph seems to have been neglected. He writes--"FriendJack, you amazed me when you mentioned the names of ex-felons nowhonourable members of the Imperial Parliament. And so they seem toforget the days when _they_ were felons? Ah, well, thank God, thepeople did not forget them in their hour of need, and though some ofthem may try to palm off their own selfish ambitions on the people towhom they owe everything as genuine patriotism--oh, it won't do!" JohnDaly holds the same opinion of his fellow patriots as is expressed ina remarkable letter to the Separatist _Dublin Evening Herald_, whereinthe writer says that his party is "disgusted with the duplicity of Mr. Gladstone, " and goes on to say that "No one now believes that the billwill pass, and almost everyone believes it was never intended to pass. I have not yet met anybody who expressed themselves as even remotelysatisfied with it. Peace to its ashes. " I quote this as proving twopoints I have always endeavoured to urge--first, that the Irishdistrust Mr. Gladstone, and are not grateful to him or his party; and, second, that no bill short of complete independence will ever satisfythe Irish people. It is what they expect and look forward to as thedirect outcome of Home Rule, which they only want as a stepping-stone. This cannot fail to impress itself on any unbiassed person who rubsagainst them for long. The teaching of the priests is eminentlydisloyal, and although the utmost care is taken to prevent theirdisloyalty becoming public, instances are not lacking to show thegeneral trend. Father Sheehy, an especial friend of the ArchbishopWalsh aforesaid, thus delivered himself anent a proposed visit of thePrince and Princess of Wales to Ireland:--"There is no need for aforeign prince to come to Ireland. The Irish people have nothing tosay to the Prince of Wales. He has no connection with Ireland exceptthat link of the Crown that has been formed for the country, which isthe symbol of Ireland's slavery. " This priest said he hatedlandgrabbers; all except one. "There is but one landgrabber I like, and that is the Tsar of Russia, who threatens to take territory on theAfghan border from England. " Father Arthur Ryan, of Thurles, the seatof Archbishop Croke, has printed a manifesto, in which hesays:--"Ever since the Union the best and most honourable of Irishmenhave looked on rebellion as a sacred duty, provided there were areasonable chance of success. It has never occurred to me to consideracquiescence to the Government of England as a moral obligation or asother than a dire necessity. We have never, thank God, lied to ouroppressors by saying we were loyal to them. And when we have condemnedthe rebels whose heroism and self-sacrifice we have loved and weptover, we condemned not their want of loyalty, but their want ofprudence. We thought it wrong to plunge the land into the horrors ofwar with no hope of success. " So much for our trusty and well-beloved fellow-subjects of this realmof England. Father Ryan is candid, truthful, and outspoken, andcommands respect. Better an open enemy than a false friend. Hissumming-up of Irish feeling to England is both concise and accurate, but one of his sentences is hardly up to date. He thanks God that theIrish have never lied by saying they were loyal. How many Irishmembers can make this their boast? Compared with them, the Ribbonmenwere heroes. The glorious prototypes of the modern member murderedtheir foes themselves, did their slaughtering in person, and took therisk like men. They hated Englishmen, _qua_ Englishmen, and made nosecret of it. The modern method is easier and more convenient. Tomurder by proxy, to have your hints carried out without danger toyourself, and to draw pay for your hinting, is a triumph ofnineteenth-century ingenuity. To pose as loyal subjects and to disarmsuspicion by protestations of friendship and brotherly love may be amore effective means of attaining your end, but it smacks too much ofthe serpent. The Ribbonmen were rough and rugged, but comparativelyrespectable. The Irish Separatists are just as disloyal, andinfinitely more treacherous. The parchment "loyalty to Her MostGracious Majesty the Queen, " which Lord Houghton is in some placesreceiving, is revolting to all who know the truth. The snake hassucceeded the tiger, and most people hate sliminess. NationalistIreland is intensely disloyal from side to side, and from end to end. Disloyal and inimical she has been from the first, and disloyal andinimical she remains, and no concessions can change her character. Sheis religious with a mediæval faith, and she follows her spiritualguides, whose sole aim is religious ascendancy. So long as the RomanCatholic Church is not predominant so long the Irish people willcomplain. You may give them the land for nothing; you may stock theirfarms--they will expect it; you may indemnify them for the sevenhundred years of robbery by the English people--they say they ought tobe indemnified; you may furnish every yeoman with a gun andammunition, with _carte blanche_ as to their use with litigiousneighbours; you may lay on whiskey in pipes, like gas and water, butwithout any whiskey rate; you may compel the Queen to do ArchbishopWalsh's washing, and the Prince of Wales to black his sacred boots, while the English nobility look after the pigs of the foinest pisintryin the wuruld, and still the Irish would be malcontents. The Churchwants absolute predominance, and she won't be happy till she gets it. Parnell was Protestant and something of a Pope. Tim Healy tried towear the leader's boots, but Bishop Walsh reduced him to a pulp. Thisgood man rules Dublin, and through Dublin, Ireland. You cannot walkfar without running against his consecrated name. At present the cityis labelled as follows:-- "By direction of his Grace the Archbishop of Dublin, the annualcollections for our Holy Father the Pope will take place on July thesecond. " The National League and Our Holy Father the Pope between themcut very close. No wonder that poor Paddy has hardly a feather left tofly with. "An ardent Nationalist" thus expresses himself in the Separatist_Herald_:--"I fear we must reluctantly abandon hope of a HomeParliament for a few more years. For the present we will have tocontent ourselves with Local Government, an ample measure of whichwill be given by the _Conservatives_. On the whole, ardent Nationalistas I am, I do not look on this as an unmixed evil. What kind ofGovernment would be possible under six or seven factions?" This shouldbe a staggerer for the English Home Rule party. The italics are in theoriginal, and the writer goes on to say, "It is open to doubt that weshould be able to at once manage our own affairs without somepreliminary training. " The whole letter is a substantial repetition ofthe sentiments emanating from a Home Ruler of Tralee, recounted in myletter from that town of Kerry. Parnell is still worshipped in Dublin. He looks big beside hissuccessors. His grave in the splendid cemetery of Glasnevin is wellworth a visit, although there is no monument beyond a cast-iron Irishcross painted green, which serves to hang flowers upon. The grave isin a rope-enclosed circle, some twenty yards in diameter, and most ofthe space is occupied by big glass shades, with flowers and othertributes of respect and affection. I counted more than a hundred, manyof them elaborate. The Corkmen send the biggest, a small greenhousewith two brown Irish harps and the legend DONE TO DEATH. An Irish harpworked in embroidery lies sodden on the earth. Green shamrock leavesof tin, with the names of all the donors--this is important--obtrudethemselves here and there. A six-foot cross of white flowers, like abadge of purity, lies on the grave, labelled Katherine Parnell, in alady's hand. The place is swamped with Irish harps, and it occurs tome that the badge would not be so popular if the patriots knew thatthe harp was imposed as an emblem of Ireland by English Henry theSecond. The name PARNELL in iron letters is on the turf, flowersgrowing through them, a poetical idea. As I walk past they vibratewith a metallic jingle, which reminds me of the shirt of mail theliving man wore to preserve himself from his fellow-patriots. TayPay's life of the dead leader proves that his sole secret of successwas inflexible purpose, and that his notion of party management was totreat the patriot members as dirt. Parnell was an authority in Irishmatters, and his example should be useful to Messrs. Gladstone, Morley, and Co. An eminent Irishmen to-day said:--"With yourwibble-wobble and your shilly-shally, your pooh-pooh and your pah-pah, you are ruining the country. Put down your foot and tell the Irishpeople that they will not now nor at any future time get Home Rule, and not a word will come out of them. " A word (to the wise) is enough. Dublin, June 29th. No. 42. --AT A NATIONALIST MEETING. The most remarkable feature of Dundalk life is the fact that thepeople are doing something. Not much, perhaps, but still something. The port is handy for Liverpool and Glasgow, and a steam packetcompany gives a little life to the quays. The barracks, not far fromthe shore, indicate one large source of custom, for wherever you finda British regiment you find the people better off. The Athlone folkssay that but for the soldiers the place would be dead and buried, andthe Galway people are complaining that the garrison, the hated Englishgarrison, has been withdrawn. This inconsistency at first surprisesyou, but you soon grow familiarised with the strange inconsistenciesof this wonderful island. Dundalk has vastly improved during the threedozen years which have elapsed since first I visited the town. Thereis a Catholic church for every hundred yards of street, and onThursday last one of them at least was full to overflowing. It was thefestival of Saints Peter and Paul, and England was being solemnlydedicated to Rome. There was no getting inside to witness theoperation, for the kneeling crowds extended into the street andflopped down on their marrow-bones on the side walks. The men with thecollection plates could hardly hold their ground in the portals, andmany worshippers were sent empty away, raising their hats as theyreluctantly turned from the sacred precincts. This was between elevenand twelve in the forenoon, so that the day's work was hopelesslybroken. Ireland has endless customs demanding cessation of labour, butnone demanding the pious to go to work. The Methodist and Presbyterianchurches were closed, and possibly their adherents were stealing amarch on the Catholics in the matter of business. The Church ofIreland has a bright green spire, which at first puzzles theunlearned. Its hoisting of the national colour is due to the fact thatthe whole structure is covered with copper, which in its turn iscovered with verdigris. The surroundings of the town are pleasant, and, although thatched cottages abound, they are very superior to thedirty dens of Tipperary. Nearly all have the half-doors so convenientfor gossiping, and the female population of these cabins spend muchof their time in leaning over the lower half. The superiority ofDundalk is by most people attributed to the strong mixture ofNortherners there resident, and the favourable position of the port. Earnest Unionists are by no means scarce, and, as usual, they are thepick of the population. The Parnellites are also present in strongforce, and this may account for the fact that Mr. Timothy Healy, therespected member for North Louth, is unable to visit the chief town ofhis constituency without a guard of two hundred policemen, paid andcommanded by his life-long foe--the base and brutal Saxon. A prominentcitizen said:-- "We have a number of Englishmen coming over here, and most of them areUnionists. But a few birds of passage I have seen have vexed me withtheir confident ignorance, and caused me to believe that EnglishGladstonians are the densest donkeys under the sun. They are soself-opiniated, and so full of self-satisfaction, that it is hard tobe patient with them. Not a few say simply that they are content toleave the matter in the hands of Mr. Gladstone, and that as theyfollowed him so far, they will follow him to the end. They decline toexamine for themselves, although facilities are offered on the spot. This must be the ruling temper of the English Home Rule party, for ifthey stopped to examine for themselves, or even to hear the evidencesubmitted by men of position and integrity they could never toleratethe insane proposition of an Irish Parliament for a day. Theysometimes say that Irishmen should govern their own land, and that noone could venture to dispute this proposition. This is their principalargument, and some are led away by its show of reason. But what is thetruth? "Irishmen _do_ govern Ireland. Listen. Is England governed byEnglishmen? Now Ireland has a far greater number of members inproportion to her population than England has. These men have far morepower in the English Parliament than England herself, for they holdthe balance of parties. In every question, Irish or English, they havethe casting vote. So that they can almost always decide what is tobecome law. "Dundalk is at this moment placarded with a request that all menshould join in the glorious struggle for freedom. Unless the Irishpeople were constantly told they were slaves, they would never knowit. They are fed on lies from their infancy. The current issue of_United Ireland_ states in a leader that the prison authorities havethree times tried to get rid of John Daly, the dynamitard, bypoisoning him in prison. As if they could not do it if they liked! Anda few weeks ago, at an amnesty meeting at Drumicondra, a speakerstated, in the presence of two or three members of Parliament, thatfive of the thirteen political prisoners still locked up had beendriven mad by horrible tortures. What freedom do the Irish want? Havethey not precisely the same freedom as that enjoyed by England, thefreest country in the world? Have they not the same laws, except wherethose laws have been relaxed in favour of Ireland? Have they notreligious equality, free trade, a free press, and vote by ballot? Andwith all this they are told at every turn that they are the mostdown-trodden nation of slaves on earth. Supposed they groaned underconscription like France and Germany, what then? "The English people have seen the results of the influence exercisedby the present Irish leaders. One would think that sensible Britonswould decline to entrust such men with power. Did they not bring aboutthe rule of the Land League, with its stories of foul murder whichsound like a horrible dream of the tyranny of the Middle Ages? Arethese men not hand and glove with the clerical party, which hatesEngland as heretic and excommunicate? It is not proposed by Home Ruleto put in office men who are the mere tools of the Catholic church, the most unyielding and intolerant system in the world!" I remembered the leader in the _Irish Catholic_, which sings a pæan oftriumph over alleged successes against the Freemasons of Italy. British Masons may be interested to learn that this authority couplesthem with Atheists, Fenians, and Ribbonmen, and holds up the craft tocontumely and scorn. The acceptance by Mr. Gladstone of the principleof Home Rule seems to rejoice the Papist heart. "Never was it moreclear than it now is that the indestructible Papacy exercises anauthority over the hearts and minds of humanity which nothing, neitherfraud, nor oppression, nor misrepresentation, can weaken or destroy. How near may be the day of its inevitable triumph no man can say, while that its coming is as certain as the rising of the morning sun... None will doubt or deny. That in the moment when the Vicar ofChrist is vindicated before the nations, and the reign of right andtruth and justice re-established throughout Christendom, Ireland canclaim to have been faithful when others were untrue, will be theproudest trophy of an affection which no temptation and no tyranny wasever able to weaken or destroy. " The Freemasons are expressly statedto lie under "the terrible penalty of excommunication, " but they areafterwards lightly dealt with. They are regarded with an amusedtolerance by Irish Catholics, who only laugh to see them "hung with anumber of trumpery glass and Brummagem metal trinkets about theirpersons, and generally indulging in an amount of fantastic andchildish adornment which would turn the King of the Cannibal Islandsgreen with envy. " Their profanation of God's holy name and theirsacrilegious oaths are regretted, but they will never do much harm inIreland, where the people laugh at their "fantastic tomfoolery. " Aparallel column advises the public to join in the present pilgrimageto Saint Patrick's Purgatory, where the saint saw, by special favourof God, the purgatorial fires. Another column advertises prayers atfixed prices--a reduction on taking a quantity. The men who hold thesebeliefs and opinions are the sole governors of Irish action, the solecreators of Irish opinion. For the lay agitators who from time to timehave dared to oppose the clerics have been mostly suppressed, and thefew still in existence will probably disappear before long. ColonelNolan must hold this opinion, for when canvassing in Headford, theparish priest came up and cut his head open with a bludgeon. Thegallant militarian submitted to this, and would fain have passed theaffair in silence. How many Englishmen would have stood it? Thisincident, properly considered, should enlighten Britons on thedominant influences of Irish Parliamentary action. On the way to Dundalk I met Major Studdert, of Corofin, County Clare. He spoke of the disturbed state of the district, and thought thepresent condition of things scandalous and intolerable. He mentionedthe case of Mr. J. Blood, who has been four times fired at fordismissing a herdsman. He said:--"Mr. Blood is universally admitted tobe one of the most amiable and benevolent of men. His herdsman had ason who would not work, and who was reckoned one of the greatestblackguards in the county, which is saying a good deal in CountyClare. Mr. Blood told him to send away this son, or he himself mustleave his situation. He refused, and Mr. Blood discharged hisherdsman, but with an extraordinary liberality gave him one hundredpounds as consolation money. Since then Mr. Blood is everywhereprotected by four policemen. One of the bullets aimed at him passedbetween his back and the back of the chair he was sitting in. " "I have only one argument for the country folks who talk of Home Rule. I challenge them to show me a single industrious man in the wholecountry who is not well off. They can't do it. What Ireland wants isnot Home Rule but industry. When they are at work they do not go at itlike Englishmen. I go over to Cheshire every year for the huntingseason, and it is a treat to see the English grooms looking after thehorses. They pull off their coats and roll up their sleeves in a waythat would astonish Irishmen. It is worth all they get to see them atwork. They get twice as much as Irish grooms, and they are worth thedifference. The people around me, the working people, do not performfive months' work in a year. " And these are the people who are surprised at their own poverty, andwho monopolise the attention of the British Parliament, which toils invain to give them an Act which will improve their worldly position. The Irish farmer is petted and spoiled, and a victim ofover-legislation. Do what you will you can never please him. Mr. Walter Gibbons, of South Mall, Westport, told me of a case which cameunder his own observation, as follows:--Rent, five pounds a year. _None_ paid for seven years. Tenant refused possession. Landlord paidtenant twenty pounds in cash, and formally remitted all the rent, thirty-five pounds to wit. "I saw the money paid, " said Mr. Gibbons, a fine specimen of theBritish sailor, present in the Cornwallis at the bombardment ofSebastopol. "And was the landlord shot?" I inquired. "Not that I know of, " said the old sailor. Most people will agree that if ever a landlord deserved shooting thiswas the very man. The walls of Dundalk were placarded with a flaming incitement toIrishmen to meet in the Labourers' Hall at eight o'clock, to "join inthe onward march to freedom. " The meeting was to be held under theauspices of the Irish National Federation--Featheration, as theParnellites call it and most of its members pronounce it--andtherefore it was likely to be a big thing, especially considering theParliamentary tension existing at the present moment. I determined tobe present, To beard the lion in his den, The Douglas in his hall; tosee the labouring Irish in their thousands marching onward to Freedom. A friend attempted to dissuade me from the project. "You'll be spottedin a moment, and as you are very obnoxious to the priests, to berecognised at such a meeting might be unpleasant. " A public officialwho pointed out the place followed me up with advice. "Unless you areconnected with the party, it would be better to keep away. Thesepeople are very suspicious. " These were fine preliminaries of a publicmeeting. The building is poor, but not squalid, and seems to have beenbuilt within the last few years. A gateway leads to the yard and theHall blocks the way. All the rooms are small, and I looked in vain foranything like an assembly chamber. Two roughish-looking men, whonevertheless had about them a refreshing air of real work, stood atthe gateway, and from them I learned that the meeting would take placeupstairs. Twenty-four steps outside the building almost gave me pause. At the top was an open landing, whence the Saxon intruder might beprojected with painful results. Trusting in my luck, I entered anarrow corridor, some fifteen feet long, with doors on each side, andone at the opposite end. That must open on the assembly room. No, itonly led to another flight of outside steps, and here it wascomforting to observe that the drop might be into the soft soil of agarden, instead of a bricked yard. But where was the great meeting? Once more I left the Hall and spoke my rugged friends. Yes, it wasafter eight, but the people wanted a bit of margin. Half-past eightwas the time intended. Half-an-hour's march around, and back again. The crowd was swelled from two to three persons. Fifteen minutes more, and further inquiry. "When will the meeting begin. " "When the people comes. " "But they're an hour late already. " "Sure ye can't hurry thim. " At 9. 15 I went again. "Meeting begun yet?" I asked. "Just startin' now. The praste's afther goin' in. " "You're rather unpunctual. " "Arrah, how would we begin widout his Rivirince!" This wasunanswerable. Once more into the breach, up the lonely shivery steps. This time I heard voices, and opening a door found a narrow room withabout twenty people therein. The show was just agoing to begin, for, as I entered, somebody proposed that the Priest should take the chair. A short, stout, red faced man, with black coat and white choker, seemed to expect no less, and moved into the one-and-ninepenny Windsorwith alacrity. He spoke with the vilest, boggiest kind of brogue, andthe hideous accent of vulgar Ulster; calling who "hu" with a French u, should "shoed, " and pronouncing every word beginning with un as ifbeginning with on--ontil, onless, ondhersthand, ondhertake. "Ye'llexcuse me makin' a spache, fur av I did I'd make a varry bad one, "said the holy man, and the audience seemed to believe him. Enrolmentwas the order of the day, and the thousands were requested to comeforward. A man next me went to the front and paid a shilling, receiving in return a green ticket, with Ireland a Nation printed atthe top. He twirled it round and round, and seemed disappointed tofind there was nothing on the other side. The secretary encouraged themeeting by the official statement that the local Featheration nownumbered nearly sixty members, whereat there was great rejoicing, themasses (to the number of twenty) working off their emotion by thumpingtheir heels on the floor. The meeting, after this exultant outburst, got slower and slower, and threatened to expire of inanition. Divil amother's son could be got to shpake a single wurud. Some malevolentinfluence overhung the masses. His Rivirince sent down a messenger tome with the request that I would say a few wuruds. Declined, withthanks, as being no speaker. Uncertainty as to my colour and objectstill prevailed; and silence, not loud, but deep, succeeded thisartful feeler. Father O'Murtagh (or words to that effect) to therescue! The Rivirind Gintleman arose and delivered a bitter attack onParnell, whom he characterised as mean, base, untruthful, treacherous, and contemptible. The foinest pisintry in the wuruld could not besoiled by contact with anybody like Parnell, and therefore theCatholic bishops had been compelled to give him up, and to say, Getthee behind me, Satanas. The dear Father did not tell the meeting whythe bishops waited sixteen days after the verdict of the Court, anduntil Mr. Gladstone had delivered judgment, before deciding to cutParnell adrift. Father O'Murtagh (I think that was the name) made someallusion to the present crisis of public affairs--(he called itcresses)--and assured his masses that the Tories were about to be forever plucked from the pedestal on which they had long been planted byascendency and greed! This was not so racy as the mixed metaphor of aGalway paper, which assures its readers that "the Unionist party willsoon be compelled to disgorge the favouritism which for so long hasbeen centred in their hands;" but it might pass. His Rivirince madesome feeble jokes, and the audience tried to laugh, but failed. "Theysay that whin we luck at ourselves in the lucking lass, we see nothin'but Whigs, " said the funny Father, and the audience sniggered. Thiswas his masterpiece. He finished with "It's wondherful what a spacheye can make whin ye have nothin' to say;" and the masses sniggeredagain. Ten minutes more of silence broken only by whisperedconfabulations of the secretary and chairman, and I grew tired ofobstructing the march to Freedom. I left the chair, the only one at myend of the room, with considerable regret. Part of the back, oneupright, was still remaining, and although the thing had evidentlybeen used in argument at some previous meeting, it hung together, andgood work might still have been done with the legs. A gentleman with acomplexion like a blast furnace, and a facial expression which lookedlike a wholesale infraction of the Ten Commandments, was smokingmoodily on the steps. "Did ye injy the matein?" he inquired. "Thought it rather dead, " I replied. "Faix, 'twas yerself that kilt it. " I feared as much. What happened after I left no man will tell, thoughdoubtless the resolutions adopted by the twenty men sitting on theforrums of ellum would vibrate through the Empire, and shake theBritish monarchy to its iniquitous base. Irish meetings must be takenwith a grain of salt. A Westport man long drew fees for reports ofmass meetings which never took place. Three or four Nationalists metin a back parlour, and their speeches, reported verbatim, rang throughIreland. Gallant Mayo was praised as heading the charge of Connaught, and Westport was lauded for its public spirit. And all the while theWestport folks knew nothing about it. The Dundalk folks will doubtlessbe equally astonished to learn that the cause is advancing sopowerfully in their midst. This hole-and-corner meeting, waiting forthe priest, addressed by the priest, bossed by the priest, is a fairsample of the humbug which seems inseparable from the Irish question. A very short acquaintance with the country and its people issufficient to convince any reasonable person that the whole movementis based on humbug, sustained by humbug, and is itself a humbug frombeginning to end. To see the English Parliament managed and exploitedby these groups of low-bred and ignorant peasants, nose-led byignorant and illiterate priests, is enough to make you ashamed ofbeing an Englishman. The country has come to something when Britonscan be worked like puppets by mean-looking animals such as I saw inthe Dundalk Labourers' Hall, where the only respectable thing was aniron safe bearing the stamp of Turner, of Dudley. And this meeting, instatus, numbers, and enthusiasm, was quite representative ofNationalist meetings all over Ireland. The English people are waitingfor their turn while Papal behests are executed. John Bull stands hatin hand, taking his orders from Father O'Baithershin. The Irish saythat England is in the first stage of her decadence, and they say itwith some reason. England, the land of heroes, sages, statesmen, isthe mere registrar of the parish priest and his poor, benighted dupes. Raleigh, Cromwell, Burleigh, Pitt, Palmerston, are succeeded by Healy, Morley, Sexton, Harcourt, Gladstone. England is Ireland's lackey, andmust wait till her betters are served, must toil and moil in herservice, receiving in return more kicks than halfpence. Britannia isthe humble, obedient servant of Papal Hibernia. To what base uses wemay return! Dundalk, July 1st. No. 43. --IN THE PROSPEROUS NORTH. This is a blessed change from dirt and poverty to tidiness andcomfort. After the West of Ireland the North looks like another world. After the bareheaded, barelegged, and barefooted women and children ofMayo and Galway, the smartly-dressed people of Newry come as asurprise. You can hardly realise that they belong to the same country. There are no mud cabins here, no pigs under the bed, no cows tetheredin the living room, no hens roosting on the family bedstead. Thepeople do not follow the inquiring stranger about, as in Ennis orTuam, where they seem to have nothing better to do. The Newry folksare minding their own business, and they have some business to mind. Three extensive flax spinning mills, two linen weaving factories, andan apron factory, give large employment to girls. There are severalflour mills, some of them possessing immense power, and having themost modern machinery. Two iron foundries of long-establishedreputation, two mineral water factories, salt works, stone polishingmills, seven tanneries, cabinet furniture manufactories, andcoachbuilding works cater for the town and surrounding district. Granite quarries of high repute, such as the Rostrevor green granite, exist in the vicinity, and are worked energetically, the productsforming a valuable addition to the exports. The town is beautifullysituated on a continuation of Carlingford Lough, the choicest bit ofsea around Great Britain. Thackeray says that if England possessedthis beautiful inlet it would be reckoned a world's wonder. Twentymiles of winding sea running inland like a league-wide river, mountains on both sides, many of them wooded to the furthest height. Rostrevor is a bijou watering place such as only France here and therecan boast. You walk on the cliff side, steep verdurous heights aboveand below, looking through tree-tops on the shimmering sea and thepurple mountains beyond, for ten miles at a stretch, wondering whynobody else is there. Newry is encompassed by mountains, one rangeabove another. Even as the hills stand round about Jerusalem, so standthe hills about Newry. A big trade is done with Liverpool and Glasgowby means of the Dundalk and Newry Packet Company's fine service ofboats. For this inland place has been made into a thriving seaport, and these Northerners make the water hum. At low tide the artificialcutting of the navigation works looks unpromising enough, but thepeople of these parts would be doing business if they had to floatthe boats on mud. The hills are cultivated to the topmost peak, orplanted with trees where tillage is impossible. The people seem tohave made the most of everything. They are digging, hammering, chopping, excavating, building, mining, and generally bustling around. They break up the mountains piece-meal, and sell the fragments inother lands. To make you buy they show you how it looks when polished, and they are ready to earn an extra profit by polishing all you wantby steam power. The streets are clean, well-paved, kept in perfectorder. The houses are well-built and far superior to the Englishaverage. A little cockney from 'Ackney, who has sailed the six hundredand seventeen miles between London and Cork and has explored most ofthe South and West, is quite knocked over by Newry. Leaning on the"halpenstock" with which he was about to tackle Cloughmore, heconfessed that Newry hupset his hideas of Hireland and the Hirish. "The folks round 'ere, " he said, "are hexactly like hus. " He wouldhave accorded higher praise, had he known any. Why this great difference? Look around the shop-keepers' signs inTipperary or Tuam and note the names. Ruane, Magrath, Maguire, O'Doherty, O'Brien, O'Flanagan, O'Shaughnessy, and so _in sæculasæculorum_. In Newry you see a striking change. Duncan, Boyd, Wylie, MacAlister, Campbell, McClelland, McAteer, and so on, greet you in alldirections. You are in one of the colonies. The breed is different. You are among the men who make railways, construct bridges, inventengines, bore tunnels, make canals, build ships, and sail them overunknown seas. You are among a people who have the instincts ofachievement, of enterprise, of invention, of command, who depend uponthemselves, who shift for themselves, and believe in self-help ratherthan in querulous complaint. The Newry folk belong to Ulster, where asa whole the people can take care of themselves. A careful perusal ofthe addresses presented to Lord Houghton on his current Viceregal touraccentuates the difference in the Irish breeds. The aborigines allwant to know what is going to be done for them. We want a pier, wewant a quay, we want a garrison or a gunboat to spend some money inthe district. Will your Excellency use your influence with the powersthat be to get us something for nothing? And let it be something toenrich us, or at least to keep us alive without work. We can't beexpected to do anything while groaning 'neath the cruel English yoke. The Newry folks, and all of their breed, abstain from whining andcadging. The Westport people have endless quarries of hard bluemarble, which they are too lazy, or too ignorant, or both, to cut. TheUlster breed would have quarried, polished, exported a mountain or twolong since. The universal verdict of employers of labour proves that anorthern Irishman is worth two from any other point of the compass, will actually perform double the amount of work, and is, besides, incomparably superior in brains and general reliability. The worthlesshordes who approach the Viceroy with snuffling petitions areinvariably headed by Father Somebody, without whose permission theywould not be there, and without whose leave they dare not raise thefeeble and intermittent cheers which here and there have greeted theQueen's representative. The lying expressions of loyalty referred toin a previous letter are severely censured by the Nationalist papers. One of the leading lights says: "Judging from a sentence in theaddress presented by the Mullingar Town Commissioners to theLord-Lieutenant on Thursday last, it would appear that these gentlemenare looking forward eagerly to the day when they can write themselvesdown West Britons. This is what they said: 'In your presence as therepresentative in this island of her Most Gracious Majesty QueenVictoria, we wish to give expression to our fealty to the throne, convinced as we are that the day will soon be at hand when we can withless restraint, and in a more marked manner, testify our admirationfor the Sovereignty of the British Isles. '" The more sincere newspaperwhich falls foul of these expressions goes on to say:-- "It is true that Ireland is described in the map made by Englishmen asone of the British Isles, but it is not so written in the trueIrishman's heart, _and never will be_, in spite of the toadyism ofgentlemen like the Town Commissioners of Mullingar. " This pronouncement embodies the sentiments of every NationalistIrishman. The Union of Hearts is not expected to succeed the HomeRule, or any other bill, and to do Irishmen justice, they never usethe phrase, neither do they profess to look forward to friendlinesswith England. I have conversed with hundreds of Home Rulers, and alllooked upon the bill as a means of paying off old scores. The tone ofthe Nationalist press should be enough for sensible Englishmen. Nobodywho regularly reads the leading Irish Separatist papers can everbelieve in the friendship supposed to be the inevitable result of theproposed concession. Once the present agitation is crowned withsuccess, a tenfold more powerful agitation will at once arise. TheIrish people will have more grievances than ever. Already they arecomplaining of insult and betrayal. And their reproaches are directedagainst the G. O. M. And his accomplices, or rather against Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Morley, for they know as well as Englishmen knowthat the rest count for nothing; that, in fact, they resemble thefaithful and unsophisticated baa-baa of whom we heard in our earlyinfancy. "Mary had a little lamb, Whose fleece was white as snow, Andeverywhere that Mary went, The lamb was sure to go. " This is theattitude of the English Gladstonian party, and the Irish people knowit. A Home Ruler I met to-day disavowed loyalty except to Ireland, andasked what was the Queen and the rest of the British Royal pauperparty to him or to Ireland that he should be loyal? He said:-- "All interest is over here, whether among Nationalists or Unionist. The fate of the bill affects us no longer. The new financial proposalsare the last straw that breaks the camel's back. Where is themanaging of our own affairs? Where does the Nationalism come in? AndGladstone, in allowing himself to make in the first proposal a mistakeof one thousand pounds a day, damaged his prestige as the framer ofthe bill, and fatally damaged the bill itself. Anybody can now saythat if he was so grossly mistaken in an ascertainable matter likerevenue and figures he stands to be equally wrong (at least) inmatters which are not demonstrable, but which are at present onlymatters of opinion and argument. I am not sure that he ever intendedto give us any Home Rule at all. We are being fooled because we haveno leader. The bill, as it stood at first, would never have beenprepared for a man like Parnell. Gladstone dare not have done it. Thewhole bill is a series of insults. As a reasonable, fair-minded manyou will not deny that. It purports to come from friends who confidein us, and yet every line bristles with distrust and suspicion. Thereis not one spark of generosity in the whole thing from beginning toend. Better have no bill at all. For as a business man, I foresee thatthe passing of any such bill would lead to a complete upset of trade. We should have a most tremendous row. The safeguards would only inviteto rebellion. Tell a man he must not have something, must not dosomething, and that is the very thing he wants to do. He might nothave thought of it if you had not mentioned it; but the moment youpoint it out, and particularise the forbidden fruit, from that verymoment he is inspired with a very particular wish for that above allthings. So with a nation. We want our independence. We want to do aswe like. Otherwise, why ask for a Parliament? Gladstone says, Yes, mypretty dear, it shall have its ickety-pickety Parliament; it shallhave its plaything. And it shall ridy-pidy in the coachy-poachy too;all round the parky-warky with the cock-a-doodle-doo. But it mustn'ttouch! Or if it touches it mustn't be rough, for its plaything willbreak so easily. We don't want this tomfoolery, nor to be treated likechildren. We want a real Parliament, and not one that can be pulled upevery five minutes by London. For if the English Parliament have thepower to veto our wishes, where's the difference? We might have justas well stayed as we were. That's perfectly clear. "So that I for one will be glad when the farce is over. The presentbill at best was but a fraud, a tampering with the national sentiment. And I am beginning to think that we have no chance of a NationalLegislature until the coming of the next great Irishman. I am not sodisappointed or broken-hearted as you might suppose. For the prospectof an Irish Parliament under present auspices is not very enticing. The country might be made to look ridiculous, and the thing, bybursting up in some absurd way, might make a repetition of the attemptimpossible for a century. I would rather wait for a better bill, andalso for better men to work it. We are not proud of the Irish members. But we didn't want Tories, and all the propertied men are Tories. Whatwere we to do? We know the want of standing and breeding which marksmost of our men, but we did the best we could, and came within an aceof succeeding. Let me tell you the exact feeling of the respectableHome Rule party of Ireland at this moment. "Having exerted ourselves with enthusiasm, and having undergoneconsiderable pecuniary sacrifice with good chances of success, we nowsee clearly that all our efforts are for the present thrown away. Itis the fortune of war. The fates were against us, and we rest contentwith the hope that we have furthered the ultimate success of themovement. For the moment, we make our bow, and hope to call on Mr. Bull at a more propitious season. Of course we expect to win in theend. " The next politician whose opinions I noted was a horse of quite adifferent colour. He bore a Scottish name, and had the incisive, argumentative style of the typical Ulsterman, who unites the coldcommon-sense and calculating power of the Scot with the warmth andimpulse of the Irish nature. He said:-- "The bare existence of Belfast is, or should be, enough to negativeall arguments in favour of Home Rule. The agitators say that Irelandis decaying from political causes, while all the while this Ulstertown is getting richer and more powerful and influential. While thepeople of Cork are begging the Viceroy to please to do something fortheir port, to please to be so kind as to ask Mr. Bull to favour thecity with his patronage, the Belfast people, with a far inferiorharbour, an inferior climate, an incomparably inferior position, surrounded by far worse land, are knocking out the Clyde forshipbuilding, and running the Continent very close in linen-weaving. Belfast is actually the third in order of the Customs ports in theUnited Kingdom. The Belfast people flourish without Home Rule, andwhat is more, they know their neighbours. They've reckoned thesegentry up. "How is it that the Catholic population, as a rule, are merely thehewers of wood and drawers of water? They have precisely the sameopportunities as their Protestant countrymen. Where-ever you go youwill find the Protestants coming to the top. Cork is a very bigotedCatholic city, and the huge majority of the population are Catholics. How is it that most of the leading merchants are Protestants? Why doheretics flourish where the faithful starve? Transfer the populationsof Cork to Belfast and _vice versâ_, and, as everybody knows perfectlywell, Belfast would at once begin to decay, while Cork would at oncebegin to prosper. Therefore it is absurd to say that Home Rule wouldcure the poverty existing in Catholic districts. Yes, there is a partyof ascendency. The Protestants are distinctly the party of ascendency. They have the ascendency which ability and education and industry willalways have over incapacity and ignorance and laziness. Now, I knowsomething about the linen trade, and also something about the growthand preparation of flax. "Linen has made the North, and flax is grown in the North. But itwould grow much better in the South. If they would grow it we would bevery glad to buy it. But they won't. And why not? Because it needscare and skill, and a lot of watching and management. The beggars aretoo lazy to grow anything that wants tending from day to day. It wouldpay them splendidly, and the advantages of flax growing and dressinghave over and over again been drummed into them without effect. Theclimate and soil of Southern Ireland are far more suitable for flaxgrowing than the North, and as about three-quarters of all the flaxwoven in Belfast is grown on the Continent, it is clear that themarket is waiting for the stuff. The Belfast merchants have done allthat in them lay to bring about flax cultivation in the South. Theyhave sent out lecturers and instructors, they have planted patches andgrown the stuff, and shown the pecuniary results, and with whateffect? Absolutely none. The people won't do anything theirgrandfathers didn't do. They won't be bothered with flax, which wantsno end of attention. Why, if they grew flax, they'd have to workalmost every day! And nobody who knows Irishmen, real Keltic Irishmen, ever expects them to do that, or anything like it. I've been in India, and I deliberately say that I prefer the Hindoo to the SouthernIrishman for industry and reliability. "These people, who are too lazy to wash themselves, expect theircondition to be improved by a Home Rule Parliament. Can anything bemore unreasonable or more unlikely? And because there are more ofthem, their wishes are to be taken into account, and the opinions andwishes of men of whom each one is worth a hundred are to bedisregarded. Where is the English sense of the eternal fitness ofthings? "What the Irish really seek is some effective substitute for work. They have no idea of developing the resources which lie nearest tothem. Carlyle says a country belongs to the people who can make thebest use of it, and not the people who happen to be found there. Ireland for the Irish is a favourite cry. Why? Is not England for theIrish, America, Australia, New Zealand? My ancestors came here in thetime of Henry the Second, and I am told that I have no business in thecountry. Wherever English and Scots settlers have been located, therethe country is well worked and the people are thriving. If we canthrive, why can't they thrive? If we can get on without Home Rule, whycan't they get on without Home Rule? If it were going to be a goodthing for the country we'd all be on it like a shot. If it were goodfor them, it ought to be good for us. We have shown by our successthat our judgment is sound. Their failure in everything theyundertake, their dirt, their general habits and character, shouldcause their statements and opinions to be looked upon with very greatsuspicion. Does it stand to reason that merely by Home Rule, by theexercise of the privilege of making Irish laws by Irishmen in Dublin, that these people would gain all we have attained by hard and honestlabour? That is what they expect up here. "The Catholics are our servants, and in selecting them we seldom asktheir religion. Our employés in most cases expect by the bill to takethe place of their masters. That is their conception of Home Rule. They have been told from infancy that the British Government keepsthem down because of their religion. They know that the BritishGovernment is Protestant, and they believe that in some occult way thesuperior position held by the Protestants in Ireland is due tofavouritism. Under a Home Rule Parliament, that is, a CatholicParliament, this condition of things will be reversed, and they willat once, and by their own innate force, as faithful believers, springto the top of the tree, and exchange positions with their formermasters and mistresses. " The general effect of my friend's discourse was well summed up by Mr. James Mack, of Galway, who said:-- "When I see that the Belfast men who would make fortunes out of rivermud, and who would skin a flea for his hide and tallow, turn theirbacks on Home Rule, and declare they will have nothing to do with it, I feel sure it can be no good. Then my own experience and observationassure me that, instead of a settlement, it will only be the beginningof trouble for both countries. Firmness is wanted, and equal laws forall. At present everything is in favour of Ireland. " _United Ireland_says:--"It would be better to go on for twenty years in the oldmiserable mill-horse round of futile and feverish and wastingagitation than to accept this bill as a settlement of national claims. And if the bill passes now it cannot deflect the national agitation bya hair's breadth, or cause its intermission for a day. " Nobody who knows the Irish people ever expected anything else. Agitators who live by agitation will always agitate, and only a fewnamby-pamby Radicals ever thought otherwise. Those who would fain havesold their souls for the Newcastle Programme also stand to be takenin. This Home Rule Bill will not do. Another must be brought forwardimmediately. Where is this dreary business going to end? When will Mr. Gladstone consider that England has eaten dirt enough? Newry, July 4th No. 44. --THE PROSPEROUS NORTH. This famous historical city must be eminently offensive to IrishNationalists. It is so clean and sweet and neat and tidy that you canat once see the hopelessness of expecting Home Rule patriotism fromthe place. There are no dunghills for it to grow in, and my somewhatextensive experiences have long ago taught me that Home Rule andNationalist patriotism will not flourish in Ireland without manure, and plenty of it. Anyhow, it is mostly associated with heaps of refuseand pungent odours arising from decomposing matter, and in the southand west is scarcely ever found flourishing side by side with modernsanitation. Home Rule not only, like pumpkins and vegetable marrows, requires a feculent soil, but like them, and indeed like all wateryand vaporous vegetables, it needs the forcing-frame. Left to its owndevices the movement would die at once. There is nothing spontaneousabout it. It is a weedy sort of exotic, thriving only by filth andforcing. It cannot live an hour in the climate of Armagh. The cold, keen air of these regions nips it in the bud. The peculative patriotswho are now monopolising Westminster have from time to time madedescents on the district, to sow the good seed, as it were, by thewayside. But next day came a frost, a killing frost. The Northernersare too mathematical. They have taken Lord Bacon's advice. They "weighand consider. " They want logic, and will not be content with mererhetoric. They require demonstrations, and have opinions of their own. Before accepting a theory they turn it round and round, and test itwith the square, the level, and the line. They care nothing fororatory unless there is sense at the back of it. They know that finewords butter no parsnips, and they know the antecedents of thepatriotic orators. They do not believe that a paid Parliament-man isnecessarily a self-sacrificing patriot, and they note that Nationalistmembers are making their patriotism much more profitable than theiroriginal and legitimate pursuits, if any. The Armagh folks believe inwork, and in keeping things in order. The Scots element is dominant. Not so much in numbers, as in influence. The Kelts are easilytraceable, but the races are partly amalgamated, and the genuine Irishare greatly improved. I paraded the streets for many hours, but I sawno dirt, rags, wretchedness. It was market day, and the country peoplecame streaming in from all sides, everyone well dressed andrespectable, and in every way equal to the farmers and their wives whoon market days drive into Lichfield or Worcester. It was a pleasure tosee them, and my Cockney friend, quoted in the Newry letter, mighthave been tempted to discard his affected superiority, and drawinghimself proudly up, to smite himself on the chest, and to say "And hi, too, ham a Hirishman. " The country between Newry and Armagh is very beautiful from a pastoralpoint of view. After the savage deserts of the West it "Comes o'er mysoul like the sweet south That breathes upon a bank of violets. " Everyyard of ground is going at its best pace. The valleys stand so thickwith corn that they laugh and sing. Immense vistas of highlycultivated country unroll themselves in every direction. The land isrichly timbered, and tall green hedges spring up everywhere. You arereminded of Dorsetshire, of Cheshire, of Normandy, of Rhineland. Thepeople at the wayside stations are all well-dressed and well-shod. Achil Island seems to be at an immeasurable distance. The semi-savageswho in Mayo demand autonomy have no supporters here. The Ulster folkseschew them and all their works, and would no more associate with themthan with Hottentots. I use the term because the Irish people have tenthousand times been told, and told untruthfully, that Lord Salisburyhad applied the term to the nation at large. The people of Mayo andsome other parts of Connaught are for the most part worthy of thename, if, indeed, it be not a libel on the Africans. The disgustingsavagery of their funeral customs is of itself sufficient to stampthem as lowest barbarians. I am prepared to prove this to the hilt. Let their defenders come forward if they dare. And so it happens that the inhabitants of Armagh city are mostlyConservatives. They ought to be religious, too, for they have not onlytwo cathedrals and an archbishop, but also a cardinal archbishop, Dr. Logue, to wit. I saw this distinguished ecclesiastic at Newry. He worethe scarlet robe, the extraordinary hat, the immensely thick gold ringof the cardinalate, in a railway carriage. An ordinary sort of man, with the round face and mean features of the typical Keltic farmer. Heholds that the people should take their political faith from theirpriests, but the Northerners hardly agree, and are not so proud oftheir cardinal as they should be, seeing that he has been raised fromthe ranks, his father (so they say) having been Lord Leitrim'scoachman, and the coachman who was driving when Lord Leitrim was shot. The Roman Catholic Cathedral of Armagh has an imposing position on thesummit of a steep hill. The portal is approached by sixty or seventysteps in flights of five and ten with steep terraces between, extending over a great space, so that the flights of steps, seen fromthe bottom of the hill, seem continuous, and have a fine Gustave Doréeffect of vastness and majesty. On a neighbouring steep stands theProtestant Cathedral, with its sturdy square tower, memorial of remoteantiquity. The city is piled up between the two cathedrals, but mostlyaround the heretic structure, and away from the Papist pile, whichstands among the fields. The Presbyterians have a very beautifulchurch, apparently of the Armagh marble of which the city is built, the perennial whiteness of the stone making the old place appeareternally young. The market-place, behind the market-hall, and on thesteep slope to the Protestant Cathedral, was very busy indeed. Marketgardeners were there with young plants, useful and ornamental, forsale. Home-made chairs with rushen seats were offered by their ruralmakers. Wooden churns, troughs for cattle, and agricultural implementswere there galore. Crockery was artfully disposed in strategeticalcorners, and gooseberry stalls were likewise to the fore. None ofthese features are visible in the Western markets. A vendor ofsecond-hand clothing stood on a cart well loaded with unconsideredtrifles, and this gentleman was especially interesting. A number ofpoor women stood around while the salesman, who knew his clientèle totheir smallest tricks, displayed his wares and recklessly endeavouredto ruin himself for the good of the country. Holding up an article, hewould turn it round and round, expatiating on its excellentqualities, and then, after naming the very lowest price consistentwith common business principles, would run down the figure toone-tenth or less, with a pause or two here and there for criticalcomment on his audience, of which he professed to entertain the mostunfavourable opinion. Then with a final thump, punching the articlecontemptuously, he would offer it, regardless of consequences, forhalf his previous offer. Sometimes he refused to accept the moneybecause the customer was not quick enough. Neither might the peopleexamine his goods. He was master, and more, and found his account init. He took up a frowsy old gown. "There ye are. Ten shillin's worthof stuff in that. An' ten for the makin'. An' that's twinty. I'll taketen, an' I couldn't afford to take a penny less. Will ye have it?Don't all spake at once. Ye won't. But I'll make ye. I'll take fiveshillin', four, three, two, one, I'll take sixpence. (Thump. ) Take itaway. Here! Have it for thruppence. Ye won't? Sweet bad luck to theone of ye is worth thruppence. Ye wouldn't raise tuppence in the crowdof ye. Ye want me to clothe ye for nothin'. An' thin ye'd want me togive ye lodgin' and washin'. 'Twas a black day on me whin I come amongsuch a ruinatin' lot. Here now, sure this ought to timpt ye. A lady'sjacket, an' a large, big, roomy jacket at that--fit for a lady thatcan ate a stone of praties at a male. Thurty shillin's ye'll beofferin' me, but I won't take it. Ye can give me ten, av ye're onlyquick enough. Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, twoshillin's. Eighteenpence. (Thump. ) Take it for a shillin'! Ye won't?Ye didn't sell yer ducks well. Ye didn't get the money for yer eggs. Will I lind ye a trifle? What d'ye take me for? Am I to stand rammin'me bargains down yer throats like wagon wheels? Do yez iver buy anyclothes at all, or do yez beg them? Me heart's bruk to pieces widblayguardin' and bullyraggin. Luk at this. A boy's coat. An it's linedwid woollen linin'; that's the only fault wid it. An' here's a bonnet. A fortin to any young woman. Will ye be plazed to take what ye wantfor nothin'? Tis charity ye want, ye poor misguided crathurs. 'Tis apack of paupers I'm discoorsin', God help me. " The Armagh shopkeepers are prosperous and content. "No Home Rule, "they say. They are no longer angry with the Nationalists. The snake isscotched, if not killed outright, they think. The whole absurdity hasreceived such a damning exposure that it cannot be revived for anothergeneration. The Separatist party will be perforce compelled to waituntil the people have forgotten what Home Rule really means. Therefore, to work again! Useless to waste more time. Ulster willsleep with one eye open, bearing in mind the favourite Northern sayingwhich advises men to put their trust in Providence, but to keep theirpowder dry. For, like the Achilese, they believe that prayer iseffective in shaving, only the Ulstermen prefer to pray over a keenrazor. A genial citizen of Armagh said:-- "We would be as ready for Home Rule as any other Irishmen if it meantwhat we are asked to believe it means. But we know better. We areconvinced that it will bring, not prosperity and peace, but bankruptcyand war, intolerance and social retrogression, robbery and spoliation, not only of the landlord but also of everybody else who has anything. The propertied Roman Catholics are just as dead against Home Rule asany Protestants. Only they dare not say so. "England ought to have sense enough to see that instead of freedomfrom Irish difficulties, the old grievances will be intensified, andany bill whatever will at once generate a fresh series ofcomplications, so that the English Parliament will be crippled inperpetuity, to the detriment of British interests. The Empire, as awhole, must be weakened, because the Irish masses are most unfriendly, and the more England concedes the more unfriendly Ireland becomes. ForIreland regards all concessions as being wrung from England bysuperior force and skill, and as being, in short, the fruits ofcompulsion. Therefore, the more Ireland gets the more exacting shewill always become. Ask any Englishman or Scotsman resident in Irelandif the Irish masses are friendly, and everyone will laugh at you. TheEnglish Home Rule party say, 'Just so. Let us cure this. This is theprincipal argument for Home Rule. ' They think this sounds very fine. Just as if in private life, a man to whom you have given his due, andmore than his due, should continue to abuse you, while you strainevery nerve to satisfy him, and go out of your way to obtain peace andquietness, he all the time becoming more and more exacting and moreand more discontented. And then as if you were to say, 'I mustcontinue my concessions, my efforts, my sacrifices. I _must_ contriveto satisfy this amiable person. ' What a fool any man would be to adoptsuch a course. A sensible man would say 'You have your due, and you'llget no more. ' Treat Ireland so, and all will be well. Be firm and thetrouble will amount to nothing. Paddy will soon drop shouting when hesees it has no effect. The agitators will soon dry up, or waste theirsweetness on the desert air. But so long as there is a prospect ofsuccess, so long as you have a weak-kneed old lunatic in power, solong as Paddy sees a prospect of obtaining substantial advantages, such as reduction of rent or rent-free farms, so long the row will bekept up. If Englishmen could only realize that, the whole movementwould cease. For Gladstonian Englishmen mistakenly think that they cansettle the thing by further concession and get to their own business. Few of them care for Home Rule on its own merits. They want Irelandout of the way. They are going the wrong way about it. To give this isto give everything. And let me tell you something new. Once the billbecomes law, and the exactions of a Home Rule Government were enforcedby England a great part of Ulster would in pure self-protection, beingno longer bound to England by the ties of loyalty, sympathy, andmutual dependence--a great part, practically the whole of Ulster, would box the compass and go in for complete independence, as the bestthing possible under the circumstances. England would then feelsomething in her vitals, something serious and something astonishing. The only rebellion that ever gave England any trouble was worked byUlstermen. The most effective agitators have nearly always beenrenegade Protestants. Let England think what she is about before she, at the bidding of a foolish old man, turns her back on her faithfulfriends to throw herself into the arms of her sworn enemies. " Another Conservative, for I met none other in Armagh, said:--"Surelythe minority are worth some consideration. There are one million twohundred thousand loyal Protestants, and certainly many thousand RomanCatholics, who are against the Bill. As Sir George Trevelyan said, 'Wemust never forget that there are two Irelands, ' and as John Brightsaid, 'There are more loyal men and women in Ireland than the wholepopulation of men and women in Wales. ' Yet Mr. Gladstone is so veryconsiderate of Wales. Ireland can point to fully one-third of theentire population, who view with abhorrence the very name of HomeRule, and are pledged to resist it to the last. These people have beenand are the friends of England, and England can be proud of them ashaving flourished under her rule. They have been and are the Englishgarrison in Ireland, and England sorely needs a garrison here. Mr. Gladstone cares nothing for their opinions. On the other hand, hespends his life in pandering to disloyal Ireland, led by men who haveopenly avowed and gloried in their hatred of England, and who havehundreds of times publicly declared their determination to securecomplete independence; men who have broken the law of the land, andhave incited others to break it; men who turned a peaceful countryinto a perfect hell, and have for ever upset the people's notions ofhonesty. Parnellites and anti-Parnellites have only one end and aim, and only one sentiment. They hate British rule and British loyalists, and aim at the ultimate repeal of the Union, and the absoluteseparation of the two countries. And they would always be unfriendly. The party of lawlessness, outrage, and rebellion would never holdamicable relations with a law-abiding and peaceful commercial country. There would be no peace for Ireland either. The factions of the Irishparty are yearly becoming more and more numerous. In all except hatredto England they are bitterly opposed. All very well to set up Ulsteras being the ugly duckling, as being the one dissentient particle of aunited Ireland. If every Protestant left the country Ireland wouldstill be divided, and hopelessly divided. Personal reviling, riot, andblackguardism are already common between the factions, united thoughthey try to appear, so far as is necessary to deceive the stupidSaxon. And if the Saxon cannot see the result of trusting the lowblackguards who form the working plant of the Nationalist party he isstupid indeed, and deserves all that will happen to him. "Have you noticed how the Irish people are gulled?" Yes, I have noticed it. The _Freeman's Journal_, as the representativepaper of the party and the chosen organ of the Church, is run on apabulum of falsehood. Englishmen would hardly believe such lyingpossible, but the _Freeman_, as a liar, has, by constant practice, attained virtuosity. What Rubinstein is on the piano, what Blondin wason the tight-rope, what the Bohee Brothers are on the banjo, what SimsReeves was in the ballad world, what Irving is in histrionic art, whatSpurgeon was as a preacher, what Patti is in opera, what Gladstone isas a word-spinner, what Tim Healy is as a whipping-post, what theIrish peasant is as a lazybones, what Harcourt is as a humbug, whatthe member for Kilanyplace is as a blackguard, so is the _Freeman'sJournal_ as a liar. When quoting great masters examples of their workare always interesting. The late Chamberlain-Dillon episode is fresh in the minds of allnewspaper readers. Dillon wanted the date. The date was given him. Hepromised to answer the charge, but anybody can see that no answer waspossible. He failed to come up to time. Being lugged to the front bythe scurf of the neck, he explained that he _had_ used the words, namely, that when the Irish party got power they would remember theirenemies, but--much virtue in But--he used the words under theinfluence of exasperation arising from the Mitchelstown affair--whichtook place a year later! Mr. Chamberlain pointed this out, and referring to this incident the_Freeman_ says:-- "Mr. Chamberlain literally grew pale under the succession ofexposures, and wriggled in his seat, while he attempted to meet them, now by wriggling equivocations, now by reckless denial. " "Mr. Goschen, prompted by Mr. Bolton, " horrified the _Freeman's_ delicate taste by"jocose allusions to watertight compartments and to the vessel'stoppling over, which grated horribly on the members of the House, withthe memory of the recent terrible calamity fresh in their minds. " Iwas in Dublin when the news of the Victoria disaster arrived, and Iheard a typical Nationalist express a wish that the whole fleet hadperished. Such sentiments are the natural result of the lyingliterature provided by the "patriot" press of Dublin and theprovinces. Well may Home Rule opinion in Ireland be rotten through andthrough! Mirabeau said of a very fat man that his only use was to showhow far the skin would stretch without bursting. The _Freeman_ existsto show to what lengths human fatuity can go. Lying and slander andall uncleanness, envy and hatred and malice and all uncharitableness, are its daily bread. With Home Rule in Ireland, this sheet would bethe ruling power. To support Home Rule is for the _Freeman_ to breatheits native air. Under an Irish Parliament, nutriment "thick and slab"would abound, and the patriot print would wax in strength and statureday by day. Enlighten the popular mind, and the _Freeman's_ hours arenumbered. It would vanish as a dream, forgotten by all except someold diver into the history of the past, who having read its pages, will shake his head sadly when he hears of Liars, and remembering itsParliamentary notes will say-- "There were Giants in those days. " Armagh, July 6th. No. 45. --A PICTURE OF ROMISH "TOLERATION. " The country from Armagh to Monaghan is a very garden of Eden, undulating, well wooded, well watered, and in a high state ofcultivation. The intervening towns and villages are neat and sweet, and the people seem to be hard workers. Monaghan itself, during thelast generation, has wonderfully improved. It suffers by reason of itsposition on an almost inaccessible branch line, and the completeabsence of manufactories, but it has no appearance of poverty. TheDiamond is a well-built square, and the whole town, mostly built ofstone, some of the streets on terraces, many of them thickly plantedwith trees, has a shady and sylvan look. The gaol, an enormousbuilding crowning a steep hill, looks like the capitol of a fortress, and appears to have exercised a salutary effect on the neighbourhood, for it has long been disused. The district did not furnish malefactorsenough to make the establishment pay. The gaol officials stood aboutwith folded hands wishing for something to do, and probably locked upeach other in turn by way of keeping up a pretence of work. Thegovernor had nothing to govern, and the turnkeys sighed as theythought of old times. The thing was growing scandalous, and theever-diminishing output of convicts marked the decadence of thecountry. Day by day the officials climbed to the topmost battlement inthe hope that rural crime-hunters might be descried bringing in someturnip-stealer, some poacher, some blacker of his neighbour's eye, andday by day these faithful prison-keepers sadly descended to renew theweary round of mutual incarceration, so necessary if they wished tokeep their hands in, and to apply somebody's patent rust-preventer tothe darling locks, which formerly in better times they had snappedwith honest pride. At last the authorities intervened, discharged theturnkeys, and locked up the place. It was a case of _Ichabod_. Thefine gold had become dim and the weapons of war had perished. Theofficials departed in peace, each vowing that the country was going tothe Divil, and each convinced that such a state of things would nevercome to pass under Home Rule. All became earnest Nationalists in thesure and certain hope that under an Irish Parliament business wouldrevive, that the old place would be re-opened, that its venerablewalls would again re-echo the songs of happy criminals, that theoakum-picking industry would revive and flourish, and that thetreadwheel (which they identify with the weal of the country) wouldcontinuously revolve. Meanwhile, Armagh extends hospitality to straywrong-doers and Monaghan boards them out to the manifest injury of thelocal turnkey industry. The new Roman Catholic Cathedral is said to be the finest in Ireland. It was over thirty years in building, and although the stone of themain fabric cost nothing, the structure cost more than a hundredthousand pounds. The interior is more gorgeous than beautiful, and themoney seems to have been expended with execrable taste. The marblemosaic of the chancel floor is beautifully done, the work having beenentrusted to Italian workmen, who were engaged on it for severalyears. The numerous statues of Carrara marble are well executed, andother items are also of the best. But the effect of the whole isinharmonious, and the great lines are obscured by over-ornamentation. You are reminded of an over-dressed woman. The pulpit, surmounted by alofty conical canopy richly gilt, is supported on four lofty pillarsof coffee-coloured marble highly polished. The baldacchino is aglittering affair, forty or fifty feet high, and big enough for amission church. This also rests on marble columns. The sacristy, chapter-house and other offices are splendidly furnished, and thefurniture of the doors, brass branches spreading all over them, massive as mediæval work, were remindful of Birmingham. The oakdrawers of the robing room contain sacerdotal raiment to the tune oftwo thousand pounds, and the banners, many in number, and of richestwork, must also represent a small fortune. Beautiful oil paintingsfrom Italy hang around, and the bishop's throne is a marvel of goldlace and luxury. A queer-looking utensil, like a low seat, but withround brass bosses at each corner, proved to be merely a sort ofcrinoline whereon the bishop might extend his robes, so as to lookinflated and imposing. So does the noble turkey-cock extend himselfwhen bent on conquest of his trustful mate, gobbling the whilestrange-sounding incantations. To describe in detail would require abook. The confessionals are snug, with rich external carving. Plentyof accommodation for penitents here. Amid such surroundings to be amiserable sinner must be indeed a pleasure. The spire is two hundredand fifty feet high. I mounted and saw the great bell, over three tonsin weight. I also saw the bishop's robes of wondrous richness andpenetrative virtue, the consecrated slippers which the acolytes wear, with their scarlet robes, remindful of Egyptian flamens and Africanflamingoes; the blessed candle-box and the seven-times blessedcandles, which at once drop tallow on the holder's clothes and benisonon his sin-struck soul. All this expense in poor Ireland, all theseadvantages for poor Ireland. And still the Irish are not happy. WithRoman Catholic cathedrals on every hand, with monasteries, nunneries, seminaries, confraternities, colleges, convents, Carmelites, Christianbrothers, and collections whichever way they turn, the Irish peopleshould be content. What could they wish for more? The principal shopkeepers of Monaghan have unpatriotic names. Crawford, Jenkins, Henry, Campbell, Kerr, McEntee, Macdonald, andtheir like must in some way be accountable for the smartness of thetown and for the emptiness of the prison on the hill. And you soon seethat the Cathedral was needed, for besides the Protestant church, thetown is polluted by two Presbyterian churches, to say nothing of aschism-shop used by the Wesleyan Methodists. A Monaghan man said:-- "The respectable people are nearly all Protestants, and all theProtestants, and most of the respectable Catholics, if not all, areUnionists. In point of numbers the Catholics have the pull, and in theevent of a Home Rule Parliament, which, God forbid, our position asProtestants would be no longer tenable. We should have to knock under, and to become persons of no consideration. The small farmers among theProtestant population would have an especially hard time of it. Theymostly held aloof from the Land League and such-like associations; andwhen the other party get the upper hand they will have to smart forit. What Mr. Dillon said about remembering in the day of their powerwho had been their enemies, is always present to the minds of thelower classes of the Irish people. It is that they may have the powerof punishing all sympathisers with England that some of them say theywant Home Rule. No doubt they have other temptations, but certainlythat is one great incentive. So keenly are they bent on getting powerthat they in some cases quite disregard any possible disadvantagesaccruing from the success of the movement. 'Let us get the power, 'they say, 'never mind the money. ' I have heard the remark made morethan once, and it represents the dominant feeling in the minds ofmany. Rubbish about struggling for equal rights. Where are thedisabilities of Irish Catholics? "Ascendency is their game. Would they be tolerant? Why ask such aquestion? When was Roman Catholicism tolerant, and where? Is not thewhole system of Popery based on intolerance, on infallibility, onstrict exclusiveness? Let me give you a few local facts to show their'tolerance. ' "In the old times the Monaghan Town Commissioners were a mixed body. Catholics and Protestants met together in friendly converse, and thevoting went anyhow, both religions on both sides, according to eachman's opinion of the business. Nowadays, wherever in Ireland the twosects are represented the thing is worked differently, and you mayknow the voting beforehand by reference to the members' religion. Weare not troubled with this in Monaghan, and for the very best ofreasons--all the members but one are Roman Catholics, and the solitaryProtestant is a lawyer who has always been identified with them, andhas always managed their legal business. He is practically one ofthemselves, having always acted with them. "When the modern political agitation became rife, the Romans ofMonaghan, under the orders of their priests, at once ousted allProtestants, except the one I have mentioned, who does not count, andmonopolised the Town Council ever since. They forgot something--LordRossmore has a claim on the market-tolls and other similar paymentswhich amount to about three hundred pounds a year, but so long as theTown Council was worked by a mixed body of Catholics and Protestantshe consented to forego this claim, and made the town a present of themoney, which was expended in various improvements. Three hundred ayear is a large sum in a small country town where labour is cheap, andin fifty years this sum, carefully laid out in ornamental and sanitaryarrangements, quite changed the aspect of the place. When, however, the priests came on the scene and determined to have thingsexclusively in their own hands, Lord Rossmore did not quite see why heshould any longer give the money to the town. And let it be understoodthat his agent had always been a prominent figure on the Monaghan TownCouncil, which was very right, having regard to the three hundredpounds given by Lord Rossmore, and to the agent's superior knowledgeand business experience. He had been kicked out with the rest, and soit was made known that in future my lord would keep the money in hisown pocket. They were astonished and suddenly cast down. 'Fear cameupon them, and sorrow even as upon a woman, ' &c. --you know the text. They said the money belonged to them, and really they had had it solong that they might be excused for believing this. Lord Rossmore wasfirm. They fought the thing out; but where was the good? They werebeaten at every point. They had no case. So the town is three hundredpounds a year worse off, and Lord Rossmore three hundred poundsbetter. And still they will not allow a Protestant on the Council, although nearly all the best business men are of that persuasion. How's that for tolerance? And if such a thing be done in the greentree what will be done in the dry? If they flog us now with whips, won't they flog us then with scorpions?" Another thraitor to his counthry's cause, said:--"A great idea withthe priests is this--to get hold of the education of the country. Theydo not like the present system of National education. They do notapprove of their youthful adherents growing up side by side withProtestant children. At first the Catholic bishops welcomed the schemeof National education, but now they are averse to it. They have seenhow it works. It goes against them. It has been weighed in the balanceand found wanting. The Catholic children grew up in amity with theirneighbours, and got dangerously liberal ideas on the subject ofreligion. They were getting to believe that it mattered little whetherCatholic or Protestant so long as a man's life was right. I went toschool with Catholics, grew up with them, was always friendly withthem, and we keep up the friendship to this day. The Catholic bishopsdisapprove of this. They want the line of cleavage sharp and distinct. Fifty years ago mixed marriages were common enough. Such a thing neverhappens now-a-days. It is most stringently forbidden by the CatholicChurch. A priest told me that emigrants to America, such as had beeneducated in Irish National schools, along with Protestant children, were very apt to drop their Romanism when once separated from theirnative parish, and to become Protestants. I suppose he meant to saythat long familiarity with the unclean thing had undermined thewholesome dislike of heresy which every Catholic should feel, and thattherefore such familiarity should be, if possible, avoided. Years agothe priest would be friendly with his Protestant neighbours. We alllived together pretty comfortably. Of late a great change has takenplace. The clergy as far as possible leave us, and cause us to beleft, out in the cold. The question of Home Rule is entirely areligious question. Parnell was actuated by what might fairly becalled patriotism; that is, comparatively speaking. The clergy saw inhis fall a grand opportunity to use the movement he had created forthe furtherance of their own ends. Home Rule is a purely RomanCatholic movement, and has had the most regrettable results on theamity of neighbours everywhere. Formerly the question of religionnever arose. Now nothing else is considered. The Papists are almostunbearable, while they as yet have only the hope of power. What theywould become if once they grasped the reality God only knows. I am notprepared to stand it, whatever it be. My arrangements to leave thecountry have long been made. At my age it will be a great grief, but Ihave always lived in a free country, and I will die in a free country. I was born in the town, and hoped to end my days at my birthplace. ButI shall go, if it almost broke my heart, rather than see myself andthe worthy men who have made the place domineered over and patronisedby Maynooth priests. _Ubi bene, ibi patria. _ Where I'm most happy, that will be my country. " The road to Kilmore is through a beautiful park-like country heavilytimbered with oak, ash, beech, chestnut, and fir. Tall hedgerowstwenty feet high line most of the way, which in many parts iscompletely overhung with trees in green arches impervious to rain. Thecountry is undulating, with sharp descents and long clumps of beechesand imposing pine woods, bosky entrances to country seats and grassyhills, covered with thriving kine. From the church itself an extensivelandscape is seen on every side. A deep valley intervenes between thechurch and a pretty farmhouse. I find a narrow lane with high hedges, covered with honeysuckles, which seems to lead thitherward. A man istoiling in a field hard by, digging for dear life, bare-armed andswarthy. I mount the gate and make for him. He remains unconscious, and goes on digging like mad. His brow is wet with honest sweat, andhe seems bent on earning whate'er he can. Perhaps he wishes to lookthe whole world in the face, having an ambition to owe no rent to anyman. I woke him and asked why the flags were flying on Kilmoresteeple. "To the pious, glorious, and immortal memory of William of Orange, whogave us an open Bible, and delivered us from Popery brass money, andwooden shoes. We put them up on the first of July and fly them tillthe twelfth, when we walk in procession through Monaghan. " "An Orangeman, and a black Protestant, I fear?" He laughed merrily, and said he was proud and thankful to be both. "Ifwe didn't hold together, and associate in some way, we might quit thecountry at once. By banding together we hold our ground, and we willdo so until Home Rule comes on us. Then we'll have to give in, abouthere. We're in a minority. " "Don't you think the Papists would be tolerant?" "Aye, aye! Toleration indeed. As tolerant as a cat to a mouse. Astolerant as I am to this thistle, bad scran to it, " said my friend, fetching up the obnoxious weed with a vigorous stroke, and chopping itto pieces with the spade, after which he shovelled it to the bottom ofthe trench. "Why, sir, the Papists are beginning to assume mastershipalready. Before this Government had been a fortnight in office thedirty scum began to give themselves airs. I mean, of course, thelowest of them. They were not so civil as before. Tolerant, ye say!Sure anybody that heard ye say the like of that would know ye were astranger in the counthry. " The farm house was a model of cleanliness and neatness, James Hanna amodel of a hard-working, debt-paying, honourable farmer. The livingrooms had every accommodation required for the decent bringing-up of afamily; and the parlour, with its carpets, knick-knacks, andhighly-polished solid furniture, showed both taste and luxury. Mrs. Hanna, a buxom lady of middle age, was hard at work, but for all that, the picture of comeliness and neatness. The children were just comingin from school, well clad and good-looking, the boys ruddy and strong, the girls modest and lady-like. Mr. Hanna was hard at it in somecontiguous field, but he came round and told me that he held twentyacres of land, that the rent was £24 10s. , that his father had thefarm for more than fifty years, that he was a Protestant, a Unionist, and a strong opponent of Home Rule. I have visited two other farms ofthe same size in Mayo and Achil, both held by Catholic Home Rulers. The rent of the Achil farm described by its holder, Mr. McGreal, as"very good land, " was seventeen-and-sixpence for the whole twentyacres. McGreal was very poor, and looked it. His house was of the typedescribed in my previous letters. Mr. James Hanna pays more for eachacre than McGreal for his whole farm, and yet the Kilmore man isprosperous, his house, his family, all his belongings suggestive ofthe most enviable lot. A gun was hanging over the fire-place, whichwas a grate, not a turf-stone. I asked him if he used theshooting-iron to keep his landlord in order. He said No, he was nohunter of big game. I may be accused of too favourable an account ofthis farmhouse and its inmates, but I have (perhaps somewhatindiscreetly) given the name and address, and Monaghan people willagree with me. A more delightful picture of Arcadia I certainly neversaw. Cannot Englishmen reckon up the Home Rule agitation from suchfacts as these, the accuracy of which is easily ascertainable byanybody? Everywhere the same thing in endless repetition. Everywherelaziness, ignorance, uncleanliness, dishonesty, disloyalty, ask forHome Rule. Everywhere industry, intelligence, cleanliness, honesty, loyalty, declare that to sanction Home Rule is to open the floodgatesto an inrush of barbarism, to put back the clock for centuries, to puta premium on fetichism, superstition, crime of all kinds, to saynothing of roguery and rank laziness. What are Englishmen going to do?Which party will they prefer to believe? When will John Bull put onhis biggest boots and kick the rascal faction to the moon? Monaghan, July 8th. No. 46. --A BIT OF FOREIGN OPINION. The military call and spell the name Inniskilling, which corruption isprobably due to the proverbial stupidity of the brutal Saxon, and isundoubtedly another injustice to Ireland. The Inniskilling Dragoonshave won their fame on many a stricken field, and to them the townowes any celebrity it may possess. From a tourist's point of view itdeserves to be better known. It is a veritable town amidst the waters, and almost encircled by the meandering channels that connect Upper andLower Lough Erne. It consists almost entirely of one long, irregular, but tolerably-built street, at both ends of which you cross the riverErne. A wooded knoll, crowned by a monument to Sir Lowry Cole, who didgood service under Wellington, is a conspicuous object, and throughopenings purposely cut through the trees, affords some very pleasingviews. A hundred steps lead to the top, and the ascent repays theclimb. The Cuilgach range, source of the Shannon, the Blue Stackmountains of Donegal, the ancient church and round tower of Devenish, an island in the Great Lough Erne, and due west the Benbulben hills, are easily visible. Devenish island is about two miles away, and, although without a tree, is very interesting. Some of the Priory stillremains, and I have found a Latin inscription in Lombardic characterswhich, being interpreted, reads Mathew O'Dughagan built this, Bartholomew O'Flauragan being Prior, A. D. 1449. There is a graveyardnext the ruins, and a restored Round Tower, eighty-five feet high, notfar away, the door of which is ten feet from the ground. These towersare sprinkled all over the country, and in nearly all the door iseight feet to twenty feet from the ground. The process of evictionseems to have been present to the minds of the builders. The sheriffs'officers of a thousand years ago must have been absolutely powerlessin presence of a No Rent manifesto. Steamers are running on the LowerLough from Enniskillen to Belleek, about twenty-two miles. You cansail there and back for eighteen-pence. The Upper Lough is said to bestill more beautiful, the tourist agents have recently been trying toopen up this lovely island-studded lake. The beauties of Ireland areas unspeakable as they are unknown. The strip of sea holds sometourists back, and others seek the prestige of holiday on theContinong. A German traveller, hight Bröcker, declares that Irelandbeats his previous record, and that the awful grandeur of the Antrimcoast has not its equal in Europe, while the wild west with its heavyAtlantic seas, is finer far than Switzerland. Germans are everywhere. The Westenra Arms of Monaghan boasted a waiter from the Lake ofConstanz, and I met a German philologist at Enniskillen who had hisown notions about Irish politics. He ridiculed the attitude ofEngland, or rather of Gladstonian England, and rated Home Rulersgenerally in good set terms. "The business of England is to rule Ireland. Justly, of course, but torule. That is if England has any regard for her own reputation. Acolonel must rule his regiment, a teacher must rule his class, thecaptain must rule his crew, or disorder and damage to all parties willbe the inevitable result. England stands to her acquisitions, whetherconquered or peacefully colonised, in the relationship of head of thefamily. She has one member who is troublesome. There is always oneblack sheep in the flock. There was a Judas among the twelve. Englandhas one, only one, at present, of her numerous family who givesextraordinary anxiety. And why? "Difference of race and difference of religion. The double differenceis too much. The races would amalgamate but for the religiousdifference. They would intermarry, and in time a sufficient mixturewould take place; would have taken place long since but for the actionof Rome. Rome keeps open the old wound, Rome irritates the old sores. Rome holds the two nations apart. We in Germany see all this quiteplainly. We have no interests at stake, and then, you know, lookers-onsee better than players. Rome keeps Ireland in hand as a drag on themost influential disseminator of Protestantism in the world. Irelandsuits her purpose as a backward nation. We have quite snuffed out thePope in Germany. Education is fatal to the political power of Rome. Ireland is not educated, and suits her purpose admirably. You will notsucceed in satisfying Ireland, because Rome will not allow the Irishto remain quiescent. Rome will not permit Ireland to rest and bethankful, to fraternise with England, to take the hand of friendship, and to work together for good. This would not do for the Church. AnyRomish priest will tell you that his Church is destined to overspreadand conquer every country in the world, and that of all possibleevents that is a thousand times the most desirable. An independentIreland, whose resources would be in the hands of the Romish Clergy, and whose strategetical position would be the means of aiding someCatholic power to crush the prestige of England--that is not apossibility too remote for the imagination of Romish wirepullers. AreEnglishmen acquainted with the history of Papal Rome? Have theyadequate knowledge of the subtlety, the craft, the dissimulation, theforesight of this most wonderful religious system? I think not, orthey would be more on their guard against her Jesuitical advances. Theidea of your Gladstone going to your Parliament to hand over thiscountry to Rome under the specious pretence of remedying Irishgrievances, is too ridiculous. I ask myself where is the Englishcommonsense of which we have heard so much in Germany? "England must be master. Not with tyranny; of that there is no danger, but with a judicial firmness. Your system of party government has goodpoints, but it has weak points, and the Irish make you feel them. Youpay too much attention to Irish clamour. I have been partly living inEngland for twenty-two years, and I have seen your Gladstone 'finally'contenting the Irish three or four times. Now, if he understood thesubject at all, he ought to know that for the reason I have statedsatisfaction is impossible. No use healing and dressing a wound whichis constantly re-opened. No use in dressing a sore which isdeliberately irritated. Rome will keep England going. With your HomeRule Bills, your Irish Church Bills, your successive Land Bills, howmuch have you done? How far have you succeeded in pacifying Ireland?Are you any nearer success now than ever you were? On the other hand, does not appetite grow with what it feeds on? The more you give, themore they want. They are far more discontented than they were beforethe passage of the three Land Bills, by each of which your Gladstone, your amusing Gladstone, declared he would pacify and content theIrish. And now your Gladstone is at it again. Funny fellow! He is likethe Auctioneer with his Last time, for the Last time, for the veryLast time, for the very _very_ Last time. And the grave English nationallows itself to be made a sport. It is mocked, derided, by a numberof lawyers' clerks and nonentities from third-rate Irish towns. It isbullied by a handful of professional politicians, paid by yourAmerican enemies, and governed by the flabby-looking priests you seeskulking about the Irish railway stations and parks and pleasureresorts. As I said before, England must be master, as the captain isof his crew, as the tutor of his class, as the colonel of hisregiment; or she will go down, and down, and down, until she has noplace nor influence among the nations. And she will deserve none, forshe knew not how to rule. "England is at present like a ship's captain, who in his futileendeavours to please one of his crew first neglects the management ofthe ship, and, then (if she grants Home Rule) allows the discontentedperson to steer the course. And all to please one silly old man, whoshould long ago have retired from public life. What man at eighty-fourwould be reckoned competent to manage a complicated businessenterprise such as a bank, or an insurance business, or a bigmanufacturing affair, or a newspaper office? Yet you allow Gladstoneto manage an Empire! Where, I ask is the English sense, of which wehear so much in Germany? You want a Bismarck to make short work ofthese Popish preachers of sedition. You want a Bismarck to rid yourcountry of the Irish vermin that torment her. The best Irishmen arethe most brilliant, polite, scholarly men I ever met. None of them areHome Rulers. That should be enough for England without furtherargument. Your House of Lords has sense. That will be your salvationagainst Gladstone and Rome. " At the _Imperial_ was a warm discussion anent the propriety of keepingalive the memory of the Battle of the Boyne, which the Orangemencelebrate with great pomp on July 12. "The counthry's heart-sick ofOrange William an' his black-mouths, " said a dark-visaged farmer. Byblack-mouths he meant Protestants. "The blayguards are not allowed to shout To Hell wid the Popenow-a-days. In Belfast they'd be fined forty shillin's. An' they knowthat, and they daren't shout To Hell wid the Pope, so they roar ToHell wid the Forty Shillin's. That's what I call a colourable evasion. But the law favours them. " A man of mighty beard looked on the speaker with contempt. "Sure, 'tisas raisonable to celebrate King William, who _did_ live as a Saintlike Patrick, Phadrig as ye call him, who never existed at all. Atlaste, that's what some of them say. Ye mix the life an' work ofhalf-a-dozen men, an' ye say 'twas all Saint Patrick. Sure, most ofhim is a myth, a sort of a fog, jist. Ye can't agree among yerselvesas to whin he was born. " Turning to me, the bearded man said, "Did yeever hear the pome about Saint Patrick's birthday?" I regretfully admitted that the masterpiece in question had escaped myresearch, but pleaded in extenuation that I came from England, wherethe rudiments of polite larnin' and the iliments of Oirish litheraturehave not yet permeated the barbarian population. Barbatus then recitedas follows:-- "On the eighth day iv March, as sum people say, St. Patrick at midnight he furst saw the day. While others declare on the ninth he was born, Sure, 'tis all a mistake between midnight and morn! Now, the furst faction fight in Oireland, they say, Was all on account of St. Patrick's birthday. Some fought for the eighth, for the ninth more would die-- Who didn't say right, they would blacken his eye. At length both the parties so positive grew, They each kept a birthday, so Patrick got two. Till Father Mulcahy (who showed them their sins) Said, No man can have two birthdays (barrin' he was twins). An' boys, don't be fightin' for eight or for nine; Don't be always disputin', but sumtimes combine. Combine eight wid nine, seventeen is the mark, Let that be his birthday. " "AMEN, " said the clerk. "Tho' he wasn't a twin, as history does show-- Yet he's worth any other two saints that we know. So they all got blind drunk, which complated their bliss, An' they kept up the custom from that day to this. " "An' why wouldn't we remimber King William? An' why wouldn't weremimber that the Enniskillen Protestants went out an' smashed up thePapists under Lord Mountcashel, at Newtownbutler, on August 1, 1689?The very day of the relief of Derry--so it was. An' more than ever nowwe need to keep our heads above wather. Ye've an old fule over therethat's thryin' to upset the counthry wid his fulery an' his Home Rule. But we'll not have it! Never will we bow the neck to Rome. In the nameof God, we'll resist to the last moment. Every man will stand to hisarms. Leave us to settle with the Papists, and we'd hunt them likeflies. Thim an' their Army of Independence! 'Twas an' Army ofIndependence they levied to help the French invasion. The poorparleyvoos landed at Killala (ye can see where they entrenched theircamp), and marched with the Irish Army of Independence to Castlebar, where the English smashed them up, the Irish Catholic levies boltingat first fire or before it. " Four or five nameless stones mark thegraves of French officers killed in this engagement. I saw them on myway from Castlebar to Turlough's Tower. My Orange friend wenton:--"We'll send a hundred Orangemen to fight their Army ofIndependence. They shall be armed with dog-whips, to bring the brutesto heel. No, we'll not send a hundred, either. We'll send thirty-two, one for each county of Ireland. 'Twould be a trate to see the Army ofIndependence hidin' thimsilves in the bogs, an' callin' on the rocksan' hills to fall down an' cover thim, an' the airth to swallow themup. " A political tradesman recommended to me as a perfect encyclopædia ofargument on the Home Rule question, said:--"The great difficulty is toget the English people to understand the duplicity of this sacerdotalmovement. Of course, you understand that the agitation is reallyreligious, and not, strictly speaking, political at all. In Englandthe Romish priests are a better class of men, and no doubt they areloyal enough for practical purposes. And then they have neithernumbers nor influence. You look upon the Catholic laity of Englandvery much as we look upon the Plymouth Brethren of Ireland--that is, as a well-meaning, well-conducted body of people with whom you don'tagree. The Catholic laity of Ireland would be all right if they wereleft alone, if they were allowed to follow the dictates of theirnatural humanity. My Catholic neighbours were very good, none better, until this accursed agitation began. Left to themselves the Irishpeople would agree better and better every year. But that would notsuit Rome. The Church, which is very astute, too much so for England, sees in agrarian agitation a means of influence and the acquisition ofpower; and once an Irish Parliament became dominant, intolerance wouldmake itself felt. Not as of old by the fires and tortures of theInquisition, for nineteenth-century public opinion would not standthat; and not by manifestly illegal means either, but by boycotting, by every species of rascality. How can you expect tolerance from achurch the very essence of whose doctrine is intolerance? Wheneverybody outside the pale of that Church is outside the pale ofsalvation, condemned beforehand to eternal damnation, anything andeverything is permissible to compel them to come in. That is theirdoctrine, and they, of course, call it benevolence. "Mr. Gladstone has said, --'My firm belief is that the influence ofGreat Britain in every Irish difficulty is not a domineering andtyrannising, but a softening and mitigating influence, and that wereIreland detached from her political connection with this country andleft to her own unaided agencies, it might be that the strife ofparties would then burst forth in a form calculated to strike horrorthrough the land. ' There is the passage, in my scrap-book. The speechwas made in the House. The English Home Rulers believe that theirtroubles will be over when once Irishmen rule from College Green, andthey trust the Irish Catholic members, who from childhood have beentaught that it is not necessary to keep faith with heretics. That is afundamental tenet of the Church of Rome. Still, England will have noexcuse for being so grossly deceived, for these men have at one timeor other been pretty candid. William O'Brien said that the countrywould in the end 'own no flag but the Green Flag of an independentIrish nation, ' and J. E. Redmond in March last said that it was theutmost folly to talk of finality in connection with the Home RuleBill. Then you must remember what Parnell said about taking off hiscoat. He would not have done it for anything short of independence. Mr. Gladstone himself saw through this, and with all other Liberalsconsistently and determinedly opposed every demand for Home Rule untilhis desire for power compelled him to surrender unconditionally toParnell. At Aberdeen the G. O. M. Said, --'Can any sensible man, can anyrational man, suppose that at this time of day we are going todisintegrate the great capital institutions of the country for thepurpose of making ourselves ridiculous in the eyes of all mankind?' Nosane man ever supposed it, no honest man ever believed that Mr. Gladstone would ever sell himself to Irish traitors for a short periodof power. The thing was incredible. In another speech Mr. Gladstonesaid he would never consent to give Ireland any principle which couldnot be given on equal terms to Scotland or any other part of theKingdom. So we may expect Scotch and Welsh Home Rule bills after this, and then a separate Parliament for every country that wants it. There's the speech, you can copy the reference. "England is like an old-established business with a shop over the waywhich only just pays, and is an awful lot of trouble; in fact, moretrouble than it's worth. You might say, let it go then. But if you letit go somebody else will take it, and run in opposition. Home Rulemeans the immediate return of the Irish-American ruffians who werehere during the Fenian agitation, or their successors. Home Rule meansthat armed rebellion can be organised with much more reasonablechances of success. The police will be under the control of traitors, and it took you all your time to keep the country in order when thepolice were in your own hands. Whatever happens to John Bull will bethe proper reward of his asinine stupidity. He'll have his hands full, with an Irish Parliament against him. And if he gets a big quarrel onhis hands with Russia or France, or any other powerful militarynation, that is the time he'll feel it. Are you going to put into thehands of your enemies the power to ruin you merely by biding theirtime?" I saw several other Enniskilleners, but they added nothing to thedisquisitions of those already quoted. A feeling of deep disgust wasthe prevailing sentiment. Encamped in the enemy's country, fromchildhood conversant with the tortuous windings of Papal policy, andthe windy hollowness of the popular cries, they stand amazed thatEnglishmen can be deceived by such obvious imposture, that they willlisten to such self-convicted charlatans, that they will reposeconfidence in such ten-times-exposed deceivers. The history of theHome Rule movement will in future ages be quoted as the mostextraordinary combination of knavery, slavery, and credulity the worldhas ever seen. And yet some Englishmen believe in it. After all, thisis not so wonderful. There were people who believed in Cagliostro, Mormon Smith, Joanna Southcote of Exeter, Mrs. Girling, the TichborneClaimant, General Boulanger, electric sugar, the South Sea Bubble, anda thousand other exploded humbugs. No doctrine could be invented tooabsurd for human belief. No impostor would fail to attract adherents, except through lack of audacity. Thousands of people believe in thewinking virgin of Loretto, and tens of thousands, a few months ago, went to worship the holy coat of Tièves. So people are found who votefor Home Rule as a means of settling the Irish Question, and renderingjustice to Ireland. _Populus decipi vult. _ Doubtless the pleasure isas great, In being cheated as to cheat. Enniskillen, July 11th. No. 47. --THE LOYALISTS AND THE LAWLESS. Clones, which must be pronounced as a dissyllable, is a city set upona hill which cannot be hid. Viewed from the railway the clusteredhouses surround the church spire like an enormous beehive. Like otherancient Irish towns, it possesses the ancient cross, the ancient roundtower, and the ancient abbey, without which none is genuine. It hasnot the sylvan, terraced, Cheltenham-cum-Bath appearance of itsneighbour Monaghan, though it somewhat resembles Bath in its generaloutline. The ruins want tidying up, and no doubt they will be lookedafter when the demand is greater. Ruins are a drug in Ireland, and asMark Twain would say--most of them are dreadfully out of repair. TheIrish have no notion of making them attractive, of exploiting them, ofturning an honest penny by their exhibition. The inhabitants of anygiven neighbourhood can never give information as to their date, use, decay, general history, beyond the stereotyped "They were built by theowld ancient folks long ago. " The Clones people are no exception tothe general rule. The town is on the main line from Dublin toLondonderry, but is little troubled by tourists. The place is quietand tidy enough, and like many other Irish country towns seems to liveon the surrounding country, which sends in a strong contingent onmarket days. The people are also quiet, civil, and decent, and theland in the neighbourhood seems fertile and well cultivated. Industryis evident on every side. Everybody has something to do. A farmerliving just outside the town said he experienced the greatestdifficulty in getting extra hands for harvest time. In his opinion thepeople were incomparably better off than in the days of his youth, some thirty years ago. He said "The labouring classes are far betterhoused, better clothed, and better fed, than in old times. They livefar better than the well-to-do farmers of a generation ago. And thequeerest thing about it is the fact that the better off they are, themore discontented they seem; and during the last few months they arebecoming unbearable. They are giving themselves airs in advance. Andno wonder, when they see the British Parliament entirely occupied withtheir affairs, to the exclusion of all English business. They may wellfeel important. They boast that they have compelled this attention, and that they shortly will have their own way in everything. LastSunday a drunken fellow was making a row near my house. I told him togo away, and he said, 'Before long you'll have to go away and everyBlackface in the country. We'll be masters in another month. ' He wasalluding to Mr. Gladstone's gagging motion, which the poor folks herein their ignorance believe to mean that Home Rule will set in aboutthe beginning of August. They are acting accordingly, and they expectto have the land which the Protestant farmers now hold--at once. It isto be divided amongst them by ballot. We feel very anxious about here, for we feel that we are only staying on sufferance, and we have noconfidence in the support of the present Government. We have expendedour labour and our substance on the land, and if we lose these we loseall. You may say there is no fear of that, as such a piece of iniquitywould never be tolerated by the English people. But when I see themtolerating so much, I think we have good reason to feel uneasy andunsettled. For my part, I have no heart for hard work, when I feelthat somebody else may reap the reward. And with a Catholic Parliamentin Dublin we should very soon have to give up. They can get at thefarming class in so many ways. We Protestants are pretty strong abouthere, and all the way to Monaghan, but still we are in a considerableminority. The mountain folks are Catholics, every one, and that iswhere we are outnumbered. We could hold our own if the country werelike the town. We should be bound under Home Rule to suffer a largeincrease of taxation, because all grants from Imperial sources are tocease upon the passing of the bill. Then the country will be moredisturbed than over, because the bill is only valued as astepping-stone to an Irish Republic, and the success of the agitatorsin obtaining the bill will encourage them and their supporters topersevere. Instead of the end of the trouble it would only be thebeginning. It is a black look-out for both Ireland and England. "Most of the Protestant farmers think that land purchase would bestopped. If that could go steadily on, there would be in timeprosperity and contentment. The people would like this well enough, and would be quiet enough, if they were let alone. But where is themoney to come from to purchase land? Who would lend money on Irishsecurities? Who would trust an Irish Parliament with millions? Thenthe better classes, who have money to spend, would leave the country, and we should be poorer all round. "The loyal party in an Irish Parliament would always be in a minority, and for any good they could do, might as well stay away. For no matterhow the Nationalist factions might quarrel among themselves, thepriestly party would always have the pull. The English Protestantsought to believe that we know the reality of the danger that threatensus better than they can possibly do. There are nearly three thousandProtestant ministers in Ireland, and only six or seven are in favourof Home Rule. Are these men all infatuated? Are they all liars? Arethey in a position to know the facts? Of course they are truthful men, and they understand if anybody does. Then why not take their advice?The Meath election petitions ought to have settled Home Rule. Englishmen cannot have read the reports of these trials. Mr. Gladstoneis fooling the people on both sides the water. He is satisfyingnobody, whether Home Rulers or not. The Nationalists round here saythe bill is an insult, but that they will take it as an instalment. The end will be that both loyalists and traitors will be morediscontented than ever--a poor result after so much fuss and waste ofprecious time. " If my friend had known of it he might have quoted Mr. William Heath, an Englishman resident for six months in Tyrone. He arrived in Irelanda bigoted Home Ruler, but six months in the country knocked hisnonsense out of him. He said:--"I have seen enough of Romanism toconvince me that Protestantism would be crushed if Home Rule becamelaw. I have seen the men who demand it, and I have seen the men whoare determined to oppose Home Rule--the one set idle, dissolute, poverty-stricken, disloyal, and priest-ridden; the other industrious, thrifty, comfortable, and loyal to England. I go back to England aUnionist, and will do all I can to spread the light on the true stateof affairs in this unhappy country. If the people of England andScotland saw Nationalists as I have seen them they would not forceHome Rule on the Loyalists of Ulster so as to leave them at the mercyof such a party. " A Primitive Methodist Minister, the Rev. J. Angliss, who came to Ireland a faithful follower of Mr. Gladstone, changed his mind when acquainted with the facts, and confessed himselfa convert to Unionism. He said that he had used his influence againstthe return of Sir Richard Webster, the late Attorney-General, butsince his visit to Ireland he had come to the conclusion that the Billwould be a tremendous evil. He was "prepared to go back to the veryplatform in the Isle of Wight from which he had supported Home Ruleand to tell the people he was converted. English people who come hereto investigate for themselves must be forced to the conclusion thatthe Bill means confiscation and robbery. " A thriving tradesman of Clones said:--"I am surprised that anyEnglishmen can be found to pin their faith to Mr. Gladstone, or to anyman with such an extraordinary record of change. Mr. Bright used tosay he could not turn his back on himself, but Mr. Gladstone spinsround and round like a teetotum. I should think that such an instancehas never been known since that good old parson who sung, 'Whatsoeverking may reign, Still I'll be Vicar of Bray, Sir. ' Downing Street isthe Grand Old Man's vicarage, and he endeavours to cling to it at allcosts. In 1886 he said, 'I will not be a party to giving Ireland alegislative body to manage Irish concerns and at the same time haveIrish members in London acting and voting on English and Scottishconcerns. ' In seven years and one month he insists on that very thing, and votes for it, with his crowd of noughts behind him. For I reckonall his Parliamentary supporters as noughts, to which a value is givenby the figure 1 at their head. Isn't that true? What would the rest bewithout him? The bulk of his adherents are precisely the kind of mennobody ever pays any attention to. There's Morley, a good writer, butnot a man of business. Then there's Harcourt. How can Englishmen standsuch a hollow humbug? He'll say anything, any blessed thing. I preferTim Healy, even, to Harcourt. Tim was roughly brought up, and, as hegets his living by politics, he is to some extent excusable. The waythat Harcourt attacked the Irish party, so long as Mr. Gladstoneattacked them! The things he said, the strong language he used so longas that course pleased Mr. Gladstone! Now he turns round and callsthem beauties; and for that matter so they are. It's what I mostlycall them myself. Beauties. "The arrangement to keep the Irish Nationalists at Westminster issomething for Englishmen to consider. If they can swallow that theycan swallow anything. They can have no pride about them, or else theyare taking no further interest in their own affairs. To give the Irishmembers power to vote on all questions coming before the ImperialParliament, while conceding to them the privilege of managing theirown affairs without interference, is indeed an eye-opener. The BritishParliament had sunk low enough when it began to heed the clamour of aset of American-paid blackguards such as the bulk of the Irish membersare, by their own supporters, admitted to be. But how much lower hasEngland sunk when she accepts the dictation of these men, and says, 'You can manage your own affairs and direct my business too. ' Thesefellows are to be masters of Ireland _and_ masters of England. For ofcourse, they can always exert a preponderating influence in Britishaffairs, holding as they do the balance of voting power. AndEnglishmen will submit to this; and will let their members be gaggedand the clauses shoved through the House by hydraulic power. Englishmen are so fond of boasting of their Freedom and Independence. Why, they are being treated like fools and slaves. And by such a lowset of fellows. Some of the Nationalist members wipe their noses onthe tails of their coats, and when those are worn out they use theircoat-sleeves. One of them was staying in an hotel where I was, and Isaw him eat eggs. He cut off the top, and worked up the yolk with thehandle of his spoon, mixing pepper and mustard. Then he cut his baconinto dice, and dipped each square in the egg before stoking himself. That is a sample of the class now working the British Parliament. There was an Irish patriot M. P. "Dillon is comparatively respectable, and if you knew Dillon youwouldn't think that meant much. Chamberlain showed him up, but whystop at one quotation? I see the judge is now in Tipperary. That wasthe place Dillon, along with O'Brien, got to conspire against the lawwith such frightful results. You remember they were sentenced to sixmonths' imprisonment, but breaking their bail they both ran away, while the poor men who had got into trouble, without funds to boltwith, went to hard labour. Dillon once said that if certain people hadcattle on land '_the cattle wouldn't prosper very much_, ' and sureenough a number of cattle near Tipperary have had their tails cut off. Dillon, I say, is reckoned one of the most respectable. That does notsay much for the others. You are giving these men power. Will they usethat power to wring further concessions? They have often declared thatthey will. The English Home Rulers say that they won't, that Irishmenwill be too grateful. They know not what they say. You'll have ahostile Government at your very doors. What did Parnell say? 'WhenEngland is at war and beaten to her knees, the idea of the IrishNationalists may be realised. ' And Sexton, this very Sexton who is nowso much to the front, said that the 'one prevailing and unchangeablepassion between Ireland and England is the passion of hate. ' Then whathope is there of friendship in a Home Rule Bill which will infinitelyincrease the number of points of dispute? And these men don't mean tobe pleased, either. They don't mean to try to be content. It wouldn'tpay them. They have their living to get. Well, they have shownthemselves clever. They can work England. " A friend has furnished me with a few gems from the orations of theDillon aforesaid, whose threat of what would be done to loyalistsunder an Irish Parliament has recently attracted so much notice. Hetried to show that this was said in a moment of warmth, in a fit ofexasperation at the "Mitchelstown massacre, " which took place a yearafterwards. What had annoyed him when at Limerick he said that any manwho stood aside from the national movement was "a dastard and acoward, and he and his children after him would be remembered in thedays that are near at hand, when Ireland was a free nation?"--DateSeptember 20th, 1887. Dillon delights in dates. Again, what hadruffled the patriot soul, when at Maryborough he spoke of dissentientsin the following terms:--"When the struggle is ended and the people ofthis country have obtained that control over their own affairs whichmust come very soon, he will be pointed out to his neighbours as acoward and a traitor?"--January 15th, 1889. It was on November 1st, 1887, at Limerick, that the same friend of England said "let thepeople of Ireland get arms in their hands, " and promised to "manageUlster. " It was at Dublin on August 23rd, 1887, that Mr. Dillonsaid:--"If there is a man in Ireland base enough to back down, to turnhis back on the fight, I will denounce him from public platforms _byname_, and I pledge myself to the Government that, let that man be whohe may, his life will not be a happy one, either in Ireland or acrossthe seas. " All this, be it observed, was after the promulgation of theUnion of Hearts. Well might Mr. Gladstone, speaking of Mr. Dillon, whois now one of his closest allies, say in the House of Commons:-- "The honourable gentleman comes here as the apostle of a creed whichis a creed of force, which is a creed of oppression, which is a creedof the destruction of all liberty, and of the erection of a despotismagainst it, and on its ruins, different from every other despotismonly in this, --that it is more absolutely detached from all law, fromall tradition, and from all restraint. " Sir William Harcourt alsoreferring to Mr. Dillon in the House once said, "The doctrine of theLand League, expounded by the man who has authority to explain it, isthe doctrine of treason and assassination;" and in addition to thisstrong pronouncement Sir William called it "a vile conspiracy. " BothMr. Gladstone and Sir William Harcourt are now hand-and-glove with themen of whom Mr. Gladstone said at Leeds:--"They are not ashamed topoint out in the press which they maintain how the ships of hermajesty's navy ought to be blown into the air, and how gentlemen theyare pleased to select ought to be the object of the knife of theassassin and deprived of life because they do not conform to the newIrish Gospel. " Mr. Chamberlain's exposure of Dillon has brought downthe thunders of the Nationalist press. Did he ever say anythingstronger than this? One Nationalist paper, speaking of the member forWest Birmingham, says:--"There was something devilish in theexultation of the strident voice and pale malignant face. " The HomeRule penmen are always describing him as "livid with impotent rage, ""trembling with ill-concealed vindictive passion, " "hurrying from theHouse to escape the mocking laughter of the amused Senate. " Themember for Bordesley is dealt with more lightly. "Mr. Jesse Collingsoccupied some minutes with his usual amusing inanity" and so forth. According to these writers the House rapidly empties when Mr. Balfouror Mr. Chamberlain would fain hold forth, and fills to suffocation tohear the noble periods of Dillon, Sexton, and Healy. Mr. Deasy, M. P. For West Mayo, has recently been before the public rather prominently, and his opinion of the Irish question may be interesting at thepresent juncture. I heard much of this gentleman at Westport, where heis well known. He is disgusted with the show of loyalty to which hiscolleagues have treated Mr. Gladstone, who boasts of their"satisfactory assurances. " He knew that the Nationalist members, speaking in England, made use of amicable expressions which no IrishNationalist audience would tolerate, and speaking of this he said:--"Ihave never said on an English platform what I would not say here thisnight. I have not been saying that we all want to be part and parcelof the British Empire--with the lie on the top of my tongue, I am notgoing to disgrace my constituency by going over to England anduttering falsehoods there, and coming back and saying that I wasdeceiving England at the time. " This speech was made in 1891, only twoyears ago. Is not this big print enough? Surely no reasonable personwill any longer believe in the loyal friendship of NationalistIreland. To do so is to violate common sense. Only the fatuousGladstonians, Whose eyes will scarcely serve at most To guard theirwearers 'gainst a post, can be expected to take it in. It is hard to find a decent person in favour of the bill. Itssupporters are eminently unsatisfactory, inasmuch as they furnish noreadable matter, and content themselves with saying that Ireland willhave her freedom, and that prosperity will follow, as the night theday, in the wake of the bill. But they can never indicate wherein istheir want of freedom, nor can they ever say _how_ the bill will bringabout prosperity. Then, as a rule, the voters for the bill are personswhose opinion no sane person would act upon in the most unimportantmatter. They never know the population of their own town, nor thedistance to the next. They are mostly sunk fathoms deep in blackestignorance, and characterised by most cantankerous perversity, nowrapidly merging, as the bill proceeds, into insolent bumptiousness. The Lord-Lieutenant has returned to Dublin after having endured suchsnubs and slights as Mr. Balfour never encountered. And yet LordHoughton waved the olive-branch. Everybody seems to have asked him fora pier. I have given many instances of useless piers on the WesternIrish Coast. The parish priests who met the Viceroy asked for more, and again more. Mr. Morley has been asked in the House what is goingto be done about the piers the priests have asked for. Let him appointa Commission to inquire into the history of Western Irish piers. Thereport will be startling, and also instructive. A Glengariff manadmitted to me that the people of that famous town would make no useof the pier if they had it. "But, " said he, "the building of it wouldbring a thousand pounds into the village. " The English people are saidto dearly love a lord. The Irish people dearly love a pier. Clones, July 13th. No. 48. --A SEARCH FOR "ORANGE ROWDYISM. " Belfast is still of the same mind. Its citizens will not have HomeRule. They are more than ever determined that the fruits of theirindustry shall not be placed at the mercy of men who have consistentlyadvocated the doctrine of plunder. The law-abiding men of Belfast willnever submit to the rule of law-breakers, many of whom have expiatedtheir offences in the convict's cell. This debt-paying community willnot consent to be under the thumb of men whose most successfuldoctrine has been the repudiation of legal contracts. The famousmerchants and manufacturers of the true capital of Ireland decline toplace their future fortunes in the hands of the unscrupulous andbeggarly adventurers who would form the bulk of a College GreenParliament. The hard-working artizans of Belfast are firm in theirdetermination to resist the imposition of a legislature which willdrive capital from the country, diminish the sources of employment, strangle all beneficial enterprise, and by destroying securityundermine and wreck all Irish industry. They know how the agitationoriginates, and by whom it is directed. They have the results of Papalinfluence before their eyes. While Belfast as a whole is clean, open, airy, with splendid streets and magnificent buildings, the Catholicportions of the city are as much like the pestilent dens of Tuam andTipperary as the authorities will permit. The uninstructed strangercan pick out the Home Rule streets. In Belfast as elsewhere, sweetness, light, and loyalty are inseparably conjoined, while evilsmells and dinginess are the invariable concomitants of disloyalty andseparatism. Fortunately for the Ulster city, the loyalists numberthree to one, which fact accounts for its general cleanliness, thethriving aspect of its commercial concerns, the decency and order ofits well-kept thoroughfares. And whatever Belfasters want they pay forthemselves. Belfast receives no Government grants for any municipalpurpose, while disloyal Dublin, screaming for equality of treatment, is largely subsidised from Imperial sources. The Belfast peopleentirely support their hospitals. The Dublin hospitals are largelysupported out of the public revenues. The Belfast Botanic Gardens arekept going by Belfast. The Dublin Botanical Gardens are whollysupported by Government. Further examples are needless, the factsbeing simple as they are undeniable. Dublin gets everything. Belfastgets absolutely nothing. Disloyalty is at a premium. Motley's the onlywear. The screamers are always getting something to stop theirmouths, a sop, not a gag. Steady, quiet, hard-working folks are of noaccount. The Belfast men ask for nothing, and get it. They want nopecuniary aid, being used to self-help, and liking it best. Stiff inopinion, they know their own minds, and are accustomed to victory. They do not in turn threaten and complain and cringe and curse andfawn. They keep a level course and run on an even keel. They are badto beat, and can do with much letting alone. They are pious in theirway, and talk like Cromwell's Puritans. They abhor Popery, judging thetree by its fruits, a test recommended by their chiefest classic. Theybelieve that Protestantism is daylight, that Popery is darkness, andthat the sun is rising. They believe with Carlyle that "Popery cannotcome back any more than paganism, which also lingers in somecountries. " They also believe with the sage that "there is a perennialnobleness and even sacredness in Work. Were he never so benighted, forgetful of his high calling, there is always hope in a man whoactually and earnestly works; in Idleness alone is there perpetualdespair. " So they work every day and all the day, save on rareoccasions, and for these holidays they make up by overtime. They thinkHome Rule is useless at best, and not only useless, but dangerous. They declare it would affect their liberties, and this notion isineradicable. Touch them in their freedom and the secold Northernersbecome aflame. And while the Irish Kelts burn like straw--a flame anda puff of smoke, and there an end--these Scots settlers are like oakenlogs, slow to take fire, but hard to extinguish. They prosper underthe Union, and therefore, say they, the Union is good. What the poorIrish need is industry, not Acts of Parliament. The land is rich, thelaws are just, the judges are honest, and industry is encouraged. Thefault is in the people themselves, and in their pastors and masters. The convergence of Ulster opinion reminds me of an old line, whichfitly illustrates the position of the Irish malcontent party-- _Heu mihi! quam pingui macer est mihi taurus in arvo. _ Quaint oldThomas Fuller (as I remember) has rendered this-- My starveling bull, Ah, woe is me, In pasture full How lean is he! I am almost disposed to believe that Horace anticipated the case; orthat, like Mr. John Dillon, he had the gift of remembering occurrencesbefore they took place. Much has been spoken and written in England concerning "Orangerowdyism. " I saw the twenty thousand Orangemen who walked throughBelfast to Knocknagoney on Wednesday last. They had nearly five milesto march on a hot day before they reached the meeting-place, somehours to stand there listening to speeches, and then the long marchback again. Large numbers went to the Orange Halls, there to concludethe day. I followed them thither, heard their speeches, noted theirmodes of enjoyment, watched them unnoticed and unknown, save in oneinstance, until they finally dispersed. Next day I went to Scarva, forty miles away, to see the great sham fight which annually takesplace there between representatives of King James and King William ofOrange. There were sixty-four special trains, at cheap fares, runningto Scarva, besides the ordinary service, and let it be remembered thatScarva is on the main line from Dublin to Belfast. Now let me stateprecisely what I saw. The Belfast procession was very like the tail of the Belfast Balfourdemonstration, and with good reason, for both consisted of twentythousand Orangemen. But on Wednesday the Orangemen, instead of beingpreceded by a hundred thousand citizens of Ulster, had it all tothemselves. The authorities know the character of Orangemen. They knowthat scorching weather and long dusty marches are apt to lead tocopious libations, especially in holiday time. They know thatpolitical feeling runs high, and that the present moment is one ofundue excitement. They know that the Papist party have tauntedOrangemen with the supposed progress of the bill, and that the samepeople say daily that Orangeism will be at once abolished, and thatthis year sees the last Orange procession in Belfast. "This is yerlast kick before we kick ye to hell, " said a broken-nosed gentleman atthe corner of Carrick Hill. The authorities knew all these things, andtaking into account the known character of Orangeism, with the specialexasperation of the moment, and remembering their own responsibilityin the matter of order, how many extra policemen were drafted into thecity? Not one. The men who really know Orangemen knew that no precautionswere needed. There were brass bands, drum and fife bands, and bands of bagpipes. The drums were something tremendous. The Belfast drumming is a thingapart, like a Plymouth Brother. We have nothing like it in England. The big drums run in couples, borne by stout fellows of infinitemuscle, and tireless energy. The kettle-drums hunt in packs, likebeagles. The big drums are the biggest the climate will grow, and thedrummers lash them into fury with thin canes, having no knob, nowrapper of felt, no softening or mitigating influence whatever. Thebands played "God save the Queen, " "Rule Britannia, " "The BoyneWater, " and "The Death of Nelson. " The fifes screamed shrilly, thebrass tubes blared, and every drummer drummed as if he had the Popehimself under his especial care. The vigour and verve of thesemarching musicians is very surprising. You cannot tire them out. Thetenth mile ended as fresh as the first, though every performer hadworked like a horse. There is a reason for this. Their hearts are inthe work. To them it means something. The scarves and busbies anduniforms and desperate paroxysms of drumming are somewhat comical tostrangers, but the people looked earnest, and as if engaged in seriousbusiness. Thousands of well-dressed people walked with the procession, or looked gravely on. There was no horse-play, and no noise otherthan the music. No bare feet, no bare heads, no rags, no dirt, nodisorder. A Papist sprang from his lair in a side street and tried tosnatch the scarf from a young man, who promptly drove him back to hisden. Nothing else happened. At midnight there were for the whole citytwenty police cases against thirty-nine for last year's twelfth. Somuch for Orange rowdies in the streets. Let us look upon their privateorgies. At seven o'clock I went to the Orange Hall, Clifton Street, theheadquarters of the body. The various lodges were dispersed in severalrooms, where they seemed to be taking tea with their sisters and theircousins and their aunts. A turn outside landed me opposite SaintPatrick's Roman Catholic Church, and here was a strong guard ofpolice. The neighbouring streets of Carrick Hill, North Street, andanother, literally swarmed with filthy, bare-footed women, wearing thehooded shawl of Limerick, of Tuam, of Tipperary. The men had adangerous look. Many were drunk, and some had bandaged heads. Morepolicemen half-way down Carrick Hill, and more still at the end. Thepeople who pay no taxes cost most to keep in order. I have somewhereseen a body of returns showing that while the Unionist populationrequires only ten or twelve policemen to every ten thousand people, the Home Rule provinces take from forty-eight to fifty-two to managethe same number. Returning to the Orange Hall a number of dirty, bare-footed children walked in procession past the door singingvociferously. They sung with great spirit to the tune of "Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching, " and seemed to enjoy itamazingly. I did not catch the words. They stopped as I came up, but ayoung fellow on guard at the hall said, "They grind up the children insongs of a party nature, and send them here to annoy us. Of course, wecan't notice little children. " This time I dropped in the thick of the entertainment. A mild, mildman occupied the chair, young men and maidens, old men and childrensitting around. They were inebriating on ginger beer and biscuits, andtheir wildest revelry was the singing of "The Old Folks at Home" by ayoung lady in white. Mr. E. J. Fullwood, of Birmingham, who was thereas a visitor, made a rattling speech, and received a great ovation. Aquiet gentleman, by special request, made a few remarks on thepolitical situation. He said:--"We will resist a Home Rule Parliamentat any cost and at every cost. We will not have it. Our faith isplighted, and we are not the men to go back of our word. " His mannerwas very subdued, and the audience also kept very quiet. What thesemen say they say in their sober senses, and not by reason ofexcitement. Another room was livelier. An English gentleman washolding forth. Then the band played "No surrender, " after which a ladysang "Killarney's hills and vales. " In a third room a brother wascalling on the brethren to give three cheers for "our beloved Queen, "under whose benignant reign blessings had been shed upon the BritishEmpire, "to which we belong, and to which we still belong, so long asthey will have us. " In a fourth room the listening Orangemen sat undera discourse on the efficacy of prayer, which they were urged to make aliving part of their everyday life. All this was very disappointing, and when in Royal Avenue the helmeted watchman of the night assured methat nothing had happened, and that nothing was likely to happen, Iabandoned all hope of Orange rowdyism. Next day at ten, I went to Scarva, or, as the natives spell it, Scarvagh. A neat little place full of Black Protestants. The housesare clean and tidy, and the people have a well-to-do look. There was agreat crowd at the station, and a band of drummers were laying on withsuch thundering effect that my very coat sleeves vibrated with theconcussion. A big arch of orange lilies bore the one word WELCOME, andthe roadside was lined with stalls selling provisions and ginger beer. The church on the hill flew the Orange flag with the Union Jack. ThePresbyterian meeting-house and a Methodist Chapel complete the tale ofworship-houses. The place is without rags, dirt, beggars, or any othersymptoms of Home Rule patriotism. Neither is there a Roman CatholicChapel. The signboards bore Scots and English names. Mr. J. Hawthornestood at his door, big-boned and burly, with a handsome good-humouredface. "Ye'll gang up the brae, till ye see an avenue with lots of folkintil it, " said this "Irishman, " whose ancestors have lived at Scarvafrom time immemorial. "Yes, we pit up the airch o' lilies to welcome our friends. They comeevery year, and a gude mony o' them too, so we pit up that bit thingoot o' friendship like. " I told him this was to be the last occasion, as Mr. Dillon wasdetermined to manage Ulster. He laughed good-naturedly. "Mon alive, d'ye tell me that any mon said sic a fuleish speech? Mon, its borne in on me that we'll tak a dooms lot of managin'. These chapsdinna ken ower weel what they're talkin' aboot. An' they maun saysomethin' to please the fellows that keep them in siller. These thingshae gane on in Scarva sin' auld lang syne, an' nothin' e'er stappitthem. They went on when the Party Processions Act was law, an' tho'the sojers ance cam frae Dublin to stop the demonstration, theOrangemen mustered in sic force that they never interfered aifter all. An' in Ulster we'll hauld our own, d'ye mind that? We've tauld themoor mind, an' that we wunna hae Home Rule. We've tauld them that, an'we'll stand by it. They've gotten oor ultimatum, an' they can mak akirk or a mill o' it. " I gangit up the brae through dense crowds constantly increasing as thesixty-four specials gradually came in. The way was sylvan and pretty, big beech trees and elms meeting overhead, the road running along theside of a steep hill sloping down to a small river, the slopecarefully tilled, and showing good husbandry. Then a beautifullywooded and extensive demesne, and a mile of avenue, with manythousands of well-dressed orderly people, the ladies forming abouthalf the company. Then a large low, brown mansion with a gravelledquadrangle, around which marched fife and drum bands playing "NoSurrender" and "The Boyne Water. " And everywhere incessant drummingand drinking of ginger beer. Banners were there of every size, shape, and colour, many with painted devices, more or less well done. TheLurgan Temperance Lodge exhibited Moses in the wilderness, holding upthe brazen serpent. "Three-fourths of the Orange Lodges are based ontemperance principles, " said an Orange authority standing by, "andwhat is more, they don't allow smoking. We Orange rowdies are to agreat extent temperance men. " I remembered that the three meetings ofthe night before were smokeless concerts, and that the fourthresembled a Methodist love-feast, with an old brother telling hisexperiences. Also that Captain Milligen, a leading Plymouth Brother ofWarrenpoint, had told me that he had been present at a Scarva meeting, and that from beginning to end he never heard a bad word, nor sawanything objectionable. The sham fight took place on a hill hard by. Two fine young fellows fenced with old cavalry swords, and King James, with green coat and plumes, succumbed to King William with orange coatand plumes, while their respective armies to the number of aboutthirty, fifteen on each side, fired in the air. I noticed that while afew had ancient brass-bound muskets, which looked as if converted fromflint locks, most were armed with Snider rifles of army pattern. Thedrums excelled themselves, and the fifers shrieked martial airs. Thepeople waved their hats and cheered, and that was the whole of it. Returning to the station, a good young man gave me a tract, wherein Ifound myself addressed as a Dear Unsaved Reader, and later as aHell-deserving Sinner. Then a Salvation Army man telling a crowd toEscape for their lives, which I was just doing, and that once he hadloved pleasure, which seemed likely enough. Then a big banner whereonwas depicted David in the act of beheading Goliath with a yeomanrysword, the Wicklow mountains in the distance. Then an old man on thebridge declaring to the multitude that he would not be a Papist forall that earth could give, and that nothing could induce hisfellow-citizens to submit to Home Rule for one second of time. "No, never, never, never. Rather than accept of Popish rule, we'll takearms in our hands as our fathers did, and like them we will conquer. Have we not their example before us? Are we such dastards as to giveup that for which they shed their blood? Shall the sons be unworthy ofthe sires? Never shall it be said that the children were unworthytheir inheritance of Freedom. Old as I am, I would take a musket, andgo forth in the name of the Lord. Shame on the Scots and English ifthey desert us in our hour of need. Are they not our own kith and kin?But whether they aid us, or whether they desert us, we will standfirm, and be true to ourselves. Our cause is good, and we are bound towin, as we won before. Only stand firm, shoulder to shoulder. Shallwe bow down to Popery? No, by the God that made us, No. Shall wetruckle to Rome, shall we become slaves to Popish knaves, shall webecome subservient to priestcraft and lying and roguery and trickery?Never shall it be said of us. We claim to be part and parcel of theglorious British Empire. We have helped to upbuild that Empire, and weclaim our inheritance. We will NOT sell our birthright, we will NOTconnive at the destruction of Britain's greatness, we will NOT haveHome Rule. 'Shall we from the Union sever? By the God that made us, never!'" The people listened silently, with grave, earnest faces. They meanbusiness. During my first visit to Belfast I interviewed the leadingcitizens, the clergy, nobility, and gentry. This time I spoke withartisans and craftsmen, and I found the same feeling, a deep andimmovable resolve to fight till the last extremity. It should beremembered that all Ulstermen are not Orangemen. But the religiousbodies which have held aloof from Orangeism are just as determined. Onthe Irish Church question the Orange body stood alone. The dissentingsects were against them everywhere. All are united now, and theattempt to force Home Rule on these resolute men would be attended bythe most awful consequences. They are not of a breed that easilyknocks under. They remind you of the Scottish Covenanters. They aremen with whom you would rather dine than fight. In Belfast, besidesMr. Fullwood, of Birmingham, previously mentioned, I met with Mr. Lyons, of Newcastle-on-Tyne, who in his walks abroad in the city hadput down in his pocket-book the names of all streets he judged to beexclusively Catholic. He was right save in three cases, where thepeople were mixed. He also observed that in the poorer quarters thewindows of all Protestant places of worship were protected by wirenetting, but that the Catholic chapels were not so protected. As theProtestants are three to one, he thought this a curious commentary onthe statements anent Orange rowdyism. Mr. Deacon, of Manchester, andthe Englishmen hereinbefore mentioned were present at the Orange Hall, and all saw what I have related. Mr. Henry Charlton, J. P. , ofGateshead-on-Tyne, agrees with them that the religious question is thesecret of the whole agitation, and that the sooner a leading statesmanmeets the Home Rule movement on this, the true ground, the better forthe country. "We are too squeamish in England. We fear to offend ourCatholic friends, with whom there is no fault to be found. But we wantan influential speaker to say at once that the conflict is realitybetween Protestantism and Popery. The best plan would be to statethings as they are, and to meet the enemy directly. " So spoke one ofthese visitors, a gentleman of great political experience. Is thisopinion not well worth consideration? Is not the time for softspeaking nearly over? Mr. Dillon says he will manage Ulster. He will need the British Armyat his back. His Army of Independence will not avail him much. Theposition of the Nationalist members towards Ulster is not unlike thatof the Chinaman who wanted an English sailor punished. "There hestands, " said the skipper, "go and punch his head. " "No, no, " said theCelestial complainant, "me no likee-pikee that way. But spose three, five, 'leven big sailors tie him up, hold him fast, then very much mebamboo he. " And that is how the Dillonites would hope to manageUlster. Belfast, July 15th. No. 49. --THE CONSTITUTION OF THE ORANGE LODGES. Portadown is another of the clean, well-built towns of Ulsterdependent for its prosperity on the linen trade. The River Bann flowsthrough it, a fine stone bridge spanning its waters in the principalstreet. Everybody seems comfortably off, and dirty slums are nowhereto be found. Some of the shops are very much larger than the size ofthe town would seem to warrant, and one ironmonger's store is farlarger than any similar shop in Birmingham. The Presbyterianmeeting-house, on the right as you enter, and the Protestant Church, which occupies a conspicuous position at the meeting of two mainthoroughfares, are plain, substantial buildings without any strikingarchitectural pretensions, and the Orange Hall, which seems anindispensable adjunct of all "settler" towns, is also modest andunassuming. The meadows bordering the Bann are spread with miles ofbleaching linen, for which the river is especially famous, its watershaving a very superior reputation for the production of dazzlingwhiteness. The town is half-a-mile from the station, which is animportant junction, and the number of cars in waiting show that thepeople expect the coming of business men. When first I visited thetown, placards announcing drill meetings at the Orange Hall wereeverywhere stuck up, but I saw none during my last march round. Perhaps the Orangemen have completed their arrangements. The Portadownpeople have no intention of accepting Home Rule. On the contrary theyare determined to have none of it. At present they are quiet enough, because they are confident that the bill can never pass, and they donot wish to meet trouble halfway. The House of Lords is their bestbower anchor, and for the present they leave the matter with thepeers. So they mind their work, and spend their time in making linen. When they demonstrate they do it with a will, but they cannot live bydemonstrations, and they are used to paying their way. They see whathappens in so-called "patriotic" districts, how neglect of dutyaccompanies eternal agitation, and how the result is poverty andfailure to meet the ordinary obligations of social life. The artisansof Portadown go to work every day, and the farmers do their level bestwith the land, which all about this region is highly cultivated. Theyclaim to belong to the party of law and order, and they agree with thegreat orator who once said:--"The party of law and order includesevery farmer who does not want to rob the landlord of his due and whodoes not want to be forced to pay blackmail to agitation--every poorfellow who desires to be at liberty to earn a day's wages bywhomsoever they are offered him, without being shunned, insulted, beaten, or too probably murdered. " The orator in question bears thewell-known name of William Ewart Gladstone, now intimately associatedwith the names of Dillon, O'Brien, Sexton, O'Connor, Tim Healy, andthe rest of the agitators to whom he was referring in the above-quotedspeech, delivered at Hawick just ten years ago. A Portadown Orangeman complained bitterly of the attitude of theEnglish Gladstonian party with reference to his order. He said:--"Wehave been denounced as rowdies and Orange blackguards until theEnglish people seem to believe it. They never think of comparing ourrecord with the record of the party denouncing us, nor do they knowanything of the history and constitution of the order. We have alwaysbeen loyal, always friends of England, and that is why the Nationalistparty so strongly disapprove of us. We have never occupied the time ofthe English Parliament, nor have we leagued ourselves with the enemiesof England. We have maintained order, and taken care of Englishinterests in Ireland, besides looking after our own personal affairs. We have not stood everlastingly hat in hand, crying, like the daughterof the horse-leech, Give, give. And great is our reward. We are to behanded over to a pack of Papist traitors and robbers, who for yearshave made the country a perfect Hell. Mr. Gladstone would fain giverich, industrious Ulster into the hands of lazy, improvidentConnaught. Let them try it on. Let them impose their taxes, and letthem try to collect them. They'll find in Ulster something to run upagainst. We prefer business to fighting and disturbance, but when oncewe make up our minds for a row we shall go in for a big thing. Most ofour people have a deep sense of religion, and they will look upon itas a religious war. It will be the sword of the Lord and of Gideon. Wenever will bow down to Popery. And that is what Home Rule means. Wesee the abject condition of the Papists, and we know their slavishsuperstitions. The bulk of them are body and soul in the hands of thepriests, and that is the secret of their non-success in life. Thepoorest among them are taxed to death by the Church. A fee must bepaid for christening, and unless you pay a stiff figure you won't havea priest at your funeral. The poor Catholics are buried without anyreligious service whatever. They are taken to the churchyard by theirfriends and put in a hole, like a dog. Pay, pay, pay, from the cradleto the grave. And when the priests wish to raise money, they dictatehow much each person is to give. They do not believe in free-willofferings, otherwise their receipts would be very small indeed. Thereyou have one explanation of Papist poverty. Are we to put our necksunder the heels of a Parliament worked by Bishop Walsh of Dublin?Never, as long as we can strike a blow for freedom. We look to Englandat present. If England fails us, we shall look to ourselves. Ourfathers died to preserve us from King James and Popery, and we are notgoing back to it at this time of day. "English Home Rulers have actually taken up the cry of Equality, anddown with Protestant ascendency. Such foolish ignorance almost amountsto crime. Where are the Roman Catholic disabilities? For twogenerations the Papists have had absolute equality. Every office isopen to them on the judicial bench. There have been Roman CatholicLord Chancellors, and Lord Chief Justices. O'Laughlin, O'Hagan, Naish, Pallas, Barry, O'Brien, Keogh, and many others are all Roman Catholicjudges. The Papists have an overwhelming preponderance inParliamentary representation. They are looked after in the matter ofeducation, whether elementary, intermediate, or University. The systemof the National Board was introduced to meet the objections of theRoman Catholics. They objected to the use of the Bible. As you knowthe Papists object very strongly to the Bible, and as it came out sometime since, before the Commissioners of Education, of four hundredMaynooth students only one in forty had a Bible at all. Theologicalstudents without a Bible! But each was compelled to have a copy ofsome Jesuit writer. "Where is the inequality? The Romanists have their own college, thisvery Maynooth, entirely under the control of their own bishops, wherethey educate the sons of small farmers and peasants and whiskey-shopkeepers by means of funds very largely taken from the ProtestantChurch of Ireland. They do not desire equality, they are resolved onascendency. We who live in Ireland know and feel the spirit ofintolerance which marks the Romanist body. It is proposed to make ofIreland a sort of Papal state. We have the declarations of CardinalLogue, of Archbishop Walsh, of Archbishop Croke before us. We need toknow no more. The English people pay no attention to them, or haveforgotten them. We bear them in mind, and we shall act accordingly. " My friend's statements anent the raising of money by the RomanCatholic clergy and the alleged poverty of Ireland reminded me that ayear ago at the opening of the Redemptorist Church of Dundalk thecollections of one day realised twelve hundred pounds, and that in thesame town a priest refused to baptise the child of a poor woman forless than five shillings. She tendered four shillings and sixpence, but the man of God sent her home for the odd sixpence. She then wentto the Protestant minister, who baptised the child for nothing. InWarrenpoint the priest decided what subscriptions each and everyperson should pay to the funds of the new Catholic Church, and inMonaghan three well-to-do Papists had their cheques returned, as beinginsufficient. The Romanist Cathedral of that poor little town iscurrently reported to have cost half a million, but that it cost atleast a hundred thousand pounds, exclusive of the stone, which wasgiven by the Protestant landowner, Lord Rossmore, is admitted by themost reliable authorities. The landlord agreed to give the stone oncondition that the quarry should be filled up and the land levelled asit was found at first. Stone for the cathedral, a convent, and manyother buildings was taken, but the conditions were not fulfilled, anda hole with forty feet of water was left, so that the field wasdangerous for cattle. The Catholic party refused to level, and alawsuit was the result. My Monaghan letter related the total exclusionof Protestants, including Lord Rossmore's agent, from the TownCouncil. So much for Papal tolerance and gratitude. The English prejudice against Orangemen is ill-founded. Theirsheet-anchor is an open Bible, and their principles, as expressed bytheir constitution, are such as ought to ensure the approval andsupport of Englishmen. They read as follows:--"The institution iscomposed of Protestants resolved to the utmost of their power tosupport and defend the rightful Sovereign, the Protestant religion, the laws of the country, the Legislative Union, and the succession tothe Throne being Protestant, and united further for the defence oftheir own persons and properties and the maintenance of the publicpeace. It is exclusively an association of those who are attached tothe religion of the Reformation, and _will not admit into thebrotherhood persons whom an intolerant spirit leads to persecute, injure, or upbraid any man on account of his religious opinions_. Theyassociate also in honour of King William the Third, Prince of Orange, whose name they bear, as supporters of his glorious memory. " I haveitalicised a few words which clear the association from the charge oforganised intolerance, which is made alike by English and Irish HomeRulers. The Portadown folks are especially well-versed in the historyof the movement, and in the perils which impelled their forefathers toband themselves together. According to Froude, it was on the 18thSeptember, 1795, that a peace was formally signed at Portadown betweenthe Peep-o'-Day Boys and the Defenders, and the hatchet was apparentlyburied. But the incongruous elements were drawn together only for amore violent recoil. The very same day Mr. Atkinson, a Protestant, oneof the Defender subscribers, was shot at. The following day a party ofProtestants were waylaid and beaten. On the 21st both partiescollected in force, and at a village in Tyrone, from which the eventtook the name by which it is known, was fought the battle of theDiamond. The Protestants won the day, though outnumbered. Eight andforty Defenders were left dead on the field, and the same evening wasestablished the first lodge of an institution which was to gather intoit all that was best and noblest in Ireland. The name of Orangemen hadlong existed. It had been used by loyal Protestants to designate thoseof themselves who adhered most faithfully to the principles of 1688. Threatened now with a general Roman Catholic insurrection, with theExecutive authority powerless, and determined at all events not tooffer the throats of themselves and their families to the RomanCatholic knife, they organised themselves into a volunteer police toprevent murder, and to awe into submission the roving bands ofassassins who were scaring sleep from the bedside of every Protestanthousehold. They became the abhorrence of traitors whose crimes theythwarted. The Government looked askance at a body of men whointerfered with the time-honoured policy of overcoming sedition bytenderness and softness of speech. But the lodges grew and multiplied. Honest men of all ranks sought admission into them as into spontaneousVigilance Committees to supply the place of the constabulary whichought to have been, but was not, established; and if they did theirwork with some roughness and irregularity, the work nevertheless wasdone. By the spring of 1797 they could place twenty thousand men atthe disposition of the authorities. In 1798 they filled the ranks ofthe Yeomanry, and beyond all other influences the Orange organisationcounteracted and thwarted the progress of the United Irishmen inUlster, and when the moment of danger arrived, had broken the rightarm of the insurrection. After this brief sketch of the origin of themovement it would not be surprising if the constitutions of the bodyinculcated intolerance, or even revenge. On the contrary, both thesethings are sternly prohibited, and their contraries expressly insistedon. A pious Brother of Portadown said:--"As Protestants we endeavourto make the Bible our rule and guide. We endeavour to love ourneighbour as ourselves, we obey the constituted authorities, wemaintain and uphold the law, we fear God and honour the Queen. We arefirmly resolved to maintain our present position to the British Crown, and we deny the right of Mr. Gladstone to give us away, or to barterus for power. By the confession of his own followers, all his previouslegislation for Ireland has been a failure, for if it be not so, whythe present measure? We claim no ascendency, and we will submit tonone. It was from our ancestors that ascendency received itsdeath-blow. Ever since 1681 our leading doctrine has been equality forall, without distinction of class or creed. By thrift and industry wehave created a state of commercial prosperity which is a credit and anhonour to the empire, while the Nationalist party under preciselysimilar conditions have discredited the empire, and by perpetualagitation, and not sticking to business, have brought every part ofthe country under their influence to degradation and poverty; besideswhich they have, by their repudiation of contracts, undermined themorality of their supporters all over Ireland. The Nationalist farmersprefer to have twenty-five per cent. Off their rent by agitation orintimidation rather than to double or treble the productiveness oftheir land by hard work and the application of modern principles offarming. We have seen from the first that the whole movement wasoriginated in roguery and sustained by roguery, and we see that it iscarried on by roguery. We not only know the men who keep up theagitation, but we know the influences at work behind them. All theirtalk is of Protestant ascendency. Can they point out a single instancein which we have the upper hand, or state anything in which we asProtestants have any advantage whatever? Mr. Gladstone himself cannotdo it. He has said so in as plain terms as he can be got to use. Butthe time for talking is over. We have said our say, and we areprepared to do our do. The Papists round here are very confident thatbefore long they will have a marked ascendency. They expect no less. Let them attempt it. We shall be ready to stand our ground. As thepoet says, Now the field is not far off When we must give the world aproof Of deeds, not words, and such as suit Another manner ofdispute. " A Home Ruler encountered casually showed some temper. He said:--"Allthe prosperity of which the Protestants boast is due to the fact thatfor centuries they have been the favoured party. England has pettedthem, and helped them, and encouraged them in every way. We were aconquered people, and these settlements of Methodists, andPresbyterians, and Quakers, and all the tag-rag-and-bob-tail ofdissent, were thrown into the country to hold it for England, and toact as spies on the real possessors of the land, in the interests ofEngland. They were, and are, the English garrison. They have no partwith the natives, the original sons of the soil. What right, moral orlegal, have these Colquhouns, these Galbraiths, these Andersons, toIrish soil? None but the right of the sword, the right of superiorforce. Other nations have succumbed to the yoke of England, thegreatest tyrant with which the earth was ever cursed. The Scots andWelsh lick the boots of the English because it pays them to do so. TheIrish have never given in, and they never will. For seven hundredyears we have rebelled, and as an Irishman I am proud of it. It showsa spirit that no tyranny can break. What tyranny do we now undergo?The tyranny of a master we do not like, and in whom we have noconfidence. We never agreed to accept the yoke of England. Now all weask is to be allowed to govern Ireland according to Irish ideas, andafter promising that we shall do so a bill is brought in which is aperfect farce, and which puts us in a far worse condition than ever. Some say that when once we get an Irish Parliament we can arrangethese small details. And mind this, we shall exact considerably morebecause of English distrust and English meanness. " I note in Saturday's issue of the party sheets a quotation from anIrish-American paper, the _Saint Louis Republic_, which thus opines asto the policy of the Irish leaders:-- "They would better hold off until they have the bill out of the woodsbefore they start a scrimmage over small details. Ireland and Americawill think any bill which establishes local government a progressivestep of glory enough for one year. If Ireland cannot improve the lawafter it gets a Legislature it needs a few American politicians, morethan an extra fund. " How does this promise for the peace that is tofollow this great measure of "Justice" to Ireland? With the improvedmethods of the Irish-American politicians, who, on the establishmentof an Irish Parliament, would inundate the country, finding in itschaotic and helpless state a fit subject for plunder, themeek-and-mild Radicals of the bread-and-butter type, who trollopthrough the lobbies after the Grand Old Bell-wether, would be highlydelighted. How did the Items get into Parliament at all? Why did theydesert the mothers' meetings, the Band-of-Hope committees, the fiveo'clock tea parties at which they made their reputations? There, indeed, they found congenial society, there they were listened to withrapt attention, there they could coruscate like Tritons among minnows. Among the blind a one-eyed man is King. The English Home Rule membersare a collection of intellectual Cyclops. They can vote, though. Theycan walk about, and that suffices their leader. If weak in the head, they are strong in the legs. Legislation must in future be pronouncedwith a hard g, or to avoid confusion of terms, and to preserve a pureetymology, a new term is needed to describe the law-making of the HomeRule members. Pedislation might serve at a pinch. I humbly commend theterm to the attention of my countrymen. Judged by classification of its friends and enemies, Home Rule comesout badly indeed. The capitalists, manufacturers, merchants, industrial community, professional men are against it. Six hundredthousand Irish Churchmen are against it. Five hundred thousandMethodists and Presbyterians are against it. Sixty thousand members ofsmaller denominations are against it. A hundred and seventy-fourthousand Protestants in Leinster, and a hundred and six thousand inMunster and Connaught are against it. The educated and loyal RomanCatholic laity are against it. All who care for England and arewilling to join in singing "God save the Queen" are against it. On theother hand amongst those who are for it, and allied with them, we findthe dynamiters of America, the Fenians and Invincibles, the illiteratevoters of Ireland, the idlers, the disloyal, the mutilators of cattle, the boycotters, the moonlighters and outragemongers, the murderers, the village ruffians, the city corner boys, and all the rest of theblackguards who have flourished and been secure under the LandLeague's fostering wing. Are we to stand quietly aside and see thedestinies of decent people entrusted to the leaders of a movementwhich owes its success to such supporters? Are Englishmen willing tobe longer fooled by a Government of nincompoops? Those who have studied the thing on the spot will excuse a littlewarmth. And then, I am subject to a kind of Dillonism. I amexasperated at the recollection of what may possibly take place nextyear. Portadown, July 18th. No. 50. --THE HOLLOWNESS OF HOME RULE. This beautiful watering place cannot be compared with the celebratedholiday resorts of England, Wales, Scotland, or France without doingit injustice. It is unique in its characteristics, and globe-trottersaver that earth does not show a spot with an outlook more beautiful. From the beach the view of the mountain-bordered Lough extends formany miles seaward. On the opposite slopes to the right are the freshgreen pastures and woods of Omeath, backed by the Carlingfordmountains. On the left are wooded hills a thousand feet high whichlead the eye to the Mourne Mountains at Rostrevor, where is the famousCloughmore (Big stone), a granite block nine feet high by fifteen feetlong, poised on the very apex of the mountain in the most remarkableway. How it got there is indeed a puzzle, as it stands on a bed oflimestone nine hundred and fifty-seven feet above sea level. You cansee it from the square of Warrenpoint, four miles away, and no doubtgood eyes would make it out at a much greater distance. Geologiststalk about the glacial age, and say that the boulder was left there byan iceberg from the north; but the mountain peasants know better. Theyknow that Fin McCoul heaved it at Brian Boru, jerking it across theLough from the opposite mountain five or six miles away, as anindication that he didn't care a button for his rival. These modernmountaineers are almost as easily gulled as their ancestors. Theybelieve in Home Rule because they will, under an Irish Legislature, "get all they want. " They have votes, and they use them under clericaladvice. "I don't know anything about Home Rule except that we are toget all we want. " Those are the very words of an enlightened andindependent elector resident near Cloughmore. Never was there moresimple faith, or more concise _credenda_. The Newcastle programme iscomparatively unpromising. The wildest Radical, the most advancedSocialist, never came up to this. The Grand Old Man himself in hismost desperate struggles for place and power, never exactly promisedeverything that everybody wished. To get all you want is, indeed, the_summum bonum_, the Ultima Thule, the _ne plus ultra_ of politicalmanagement. After this the old cries of peace, retrenchment, andreform sound beggarly indeed. Never was there such a succinct andcomplete compendium of political belief. Nobody can outbid the man whooffers "all you want. " For compactness and simplicity and generalsatisfactoriness this phase of Home Rule diplomacy takes the cake. Failure to fulfil the promise is of course to be charged to the brutalSaxon. Meanwhile the promise costs nothing, and like sheep's-headbroth is very filling at the price. Not long ago the point in the Lough was a rabbit warren, whence thename. Before that the situation was too exposed to the incursions ofrovers to tempt settlers, and Narrow-water Castle, built to defend thepass, was (and is) between the town and Newry. But times havechanged. Settlers flocked across from Ayr, from Troon, from Ardrossan, and other Scots ports lying handy. A smart, attractive town has sprungup, starting with a square a hundred yards across. Big ships whichcannot get up to Newry discharge in the Lough by means of lighters. Aneight-hundred-ton barque from Italy is unloading before my window. There is a first-rate quay, with moorings for many vessels. Theharbour is connected by rail with all parts of Ireland, and in itseven hundred to eight hundred ships yearly discharge cargoes. Thegrassy beach-promenade is half-a-mile long, and an open tramcar runsalong the shore for three miles. The residents are alive to theimportance of catering for visitors, and the Town Commissioners, amixed body, have provided bathing accommodation for both sexes. Galway, with thrice the population, a fine promenade, good sands, anda grand bay, has no such arrangements; and Westport has very littleaccommodation for tourists. The contrast between the North of Irelandand the South and West comes out in everything. The Methodists and Presbyterians are strong in the town, to saynothing of the two Protestant Churches, one in Warrenpoint and anotherin the Clonallon suburb. The Catholic Chapel is counterbalanced by theMasonic Hall. Wherefore it is not surprising to learn that the bulk ofthe townsmen are staunch Unionists. The Nationalist papers have littlesale hereabouts, the _Belfast News Letter_ and the _Irish Times_having the pull. A business man, who has lived here for forty years, said:-- "We are fairly matched in numbers but the Conservatives have thewealth and respectability. The fishermen and labourers are nearly allHome Rulers, simply because they are Catholics. They are quiteincapable of saying _why_ they are Home Rulers, and some of them evenprofess to regard the proposed change with alarm, and say they preferthat things should remain as they are. But although they speak sofairly, yet when the time comes to vote, they vote as the priest tellsthem. They have no option, with their belief. I don't blame the poorfellows one bit. I followed the report of the South Meath electionpetition very closely, and I know that the same kind of pressure wasexerted here. At Castlejordan Chapel Father O'Connell commanded thepeople, in a sermon, to go to a Nationalist meeting, and said he wouldbe there, and that their parish priest expected them to go. He saidthat if any were absent he would expect them to give a good andsufficient reason for their absence. On another occasion a priest meta number of men who were going to an opposition meeting, and turnedthem back with threats. These priests not only threatened to refuseextreme unction to persons who voted against the clerical party, butthey also threatened personal violence, and then said, 'Don't hitback, for I have the holy sacrament on me. ' Father John Fay, parishpriest of Summerhill, County Meath, told his people that they must notlook on him as a mere man; if they did they might have some prejudiceagainst him, for all had their shortcomings. 'The priest is theambassador of Jesus Christ, and not like other ambassadors. He carrieshis Lord and Master about with him, and when the priest is with thepeople Almighty God is with them. ' That is what Father Fay reckonedhimself. Almighty God, no less. He alluded to the consecrated wafershe had in his pocket. The doctrine of transubstantiation is hereinvoked to assist in carrying a Home Rule candidate of the rightclerical shade. And all the awful language used from the altar, in theconfessional, all the threats of eternal damnation, and burning in thefires of hell, all the refusals of mass, and to hear dyingconfessions, were directed against another section of the Home Ruleparty, and not against a Unionist at all. How does this promise forthe working of an Irish Parliament? "I note that the English Home Rule papers say nothing good of thebill. They are always praising the management of the Old ParliamentaryHand. They beslaver him with fulsome adoration. They cannot point outanything good in the provisions of the bill, nor in the central ideaof the bill, but they must fill up somehow, and they praise hisartfulness, how he dodged this, and dexterously managed that. Theyhave nothing but admiration for his jugglery and House-of-Commonstricks. They bring him down to the level of a practised conjuror or athimblerigger. But, with all his wonderful cleverness, he is notadmired or supported by any intelligent body of public men. Thegag-trick ought to settle him. We in Ulster feel sure that a generalelection to-morrow would for ever deprive him of power. Of course theOld Hand knows that, and will not give the country an opportunity ofpronouncing judgment. He and his flock of baa-lambs will put off theday of reckoning as long as ever they can. Either on the present ornext year's register he is bound to be badly beaten. His course isclear. He used to have three courses open to him, but now he has onlyone. He must try to weather the storm until he has a chance of fakingthe voters' lists so as to improve his own chances. It is said thatMr. Henry Fowler is already preparing such a scheme. Like enough. Iftricks will win, I back the G. O. M. There are more tricks in him thanin a waggon-load of monkeys. The strangest thing I ever saw or everheard of is the calmness with which the English people take theproposition that Ireland shall manage English affairs, while Irelandis to manage her own without any interference. I should have expectedthe British workman to processionise about this. I should have thoughtthe British middle-classes would have been up in arms at the barethought of so monstrous a proposition. And so they would if theythought it would become law. But, like us, they know there will neverbe any Home Rule. Then, they are not so nervous as we in Ireland are, because they don't know as we do what Home Rule really means. "No earthly power can assist the Irish peasantry so long as theyremain under the dominion of the priests. Popery is the vampire thatis sucking the life-blood of the country. It is fashionable nowadaysto abstain from denouncing other religious systems, on the plea oftoleration. I agree with perfect toleration, and I am not desirous ofmaking reference to Romanism. But they force it upon us. The Papistclergy say that the poverty of the country is due to English rule. Wewho live here know that it is due to Romish rule. How is it that allProtestants are well off, and make no complaint? How is it that theirchildren never run barefoot? How is it that their families are welleducated, that their dwellings are clean, and that they pay their way?Home Rule may impoverish those whom the teachings and habits ofProtestantism have enriched, but neither Home Rule nor anything elsewill enrich those whom Popery has impoverished. England should turn adeaf ear to the cry for Home Rule, which means the ruin of her onlyfriends in Ireland, and unknown damage to herself. To give her enemiesthe means wherewithal to damage her is very midsummer madness. " The difference between Protestant and Roman Catholic farmers was shownin striking contrast on the Marquess of Lansdowne's estate in Queen'sCounty. Most of the tenants were non-judicial, and the total rentsamounted to £7, 000, of which the Marquess allowed £1, 100 to beannually expended on the estate. In 1886 the tenants demandedthirty-five per cent. Reduction on non-judicial and twenty-five percent. On judicial rents, threatening as an alternative to adopt thePlan of Campaign. The Marquess refused to comply with this exorbitantdemand, but offered reductions of fifteen to twenty-five per cent. Onnon judicial rents. The tenants declined to pay anything, and thelandlord enforced his rights, Mr. Denis Kilbride, M. P. , declaring that"these evictions differed from most of the other evictions to thisextent, --that they were able to pay the rent. It was a fight ofintelligence against intelligence, a case of diamond cut diamond. " Mr. Kilbride, who held a large farm at a rental of seven hundred and sixtypounds was one of the evicted. Another of these poor destitute, homeless tenants, brutally turned out on the roadside to starve, ordie like a dog from exposure, was no sooner evicted than he entered aracehorse for the great contest of the Curragh. This victim of Saxontyranny was named John Dunne, and his holding comprised more thanthirteen hundred acres. Let us hope the colt did him credit. Let ustrust that the evicted quadruped carried off the blue ribbon ofKildare. For under the Lansdowne "Rack-rents" the struggling farmercould barely keep one racehorse, which, like the fabled ewe-lamb ofancient story, was his little all. Perhaps Mr. Dunne's colt wasrelated to that well-bred travelling horse, of which the pictureadorned the walls of Limerick and its vicinity, and which gloried inthe name of Justice to Ireland. There were no evicted Protestants onthe Lansdowne estate. Every Protestant farmer paid his rent andsteadfastly refused to join the Plan of Campaign. The injustice of an Irish rent largely depends on the question, Towhom is it due? A good Nationalist may draw a higher rent than aLoyalist. A sound Home Ruler may ask for and insist on an exorbitantrent, but he is never denounced by the Nationalist press. TheCorporation of Dublin is red-hot in the matter of patriotism. ItsParnellite members have from time to time comprised the pick of theNationalist agitators. The Dublin "patriot" press has ever beenforemost in denouncing Rack-rents. But the city of Dublin is alandlord. It has agricultural tenants who are never allowed under painof eviction to get into arrears. The members of the Corporation fixedthe rents, and, strange to say, the tenants at the first opportunityappealed to the Land Commissioners. Six of them holding four hundredand twenty-seven acres of land, were paying £883 16s. 4d. The rent wastherefore over £2 an acre, which is perhaps double the average. TheGovernment valuation was £625 10s. The new rent was finally settled at£683, being an all-round reduction of twenty-three per cent. LordClanricarde is frequently denounced by Nationalists for excessiverents, lack of conscience, and non-residence. The Land Commissionerswere unable to deduct anything like twenty-three per cent. From theClanricarde rent-roll. The Councillors of Dublin were never upbraided, nor put in danger of their lives. The Loughrea people shot LordClanricarde's agent, his driver, his wife, and several other people, in protest against the Clanricarde rents and to encourage the landlordto live on the estate. About a dozen were murdered altogether. Surelythese parallel cases should demonstrate the utter hollowness of theHome Rule agitation. The Protestants of Warrenpoint, like those of Newry and Belfast, areconfident of their ability to hold their own. Their attitude is verydifferent from that of the trembling heretics of Tuam or Tipperary. They are strong in numbers, discipline, and resolution, and inaddition to upholding their own personal cause they declare that theirisolated co-religionists in Leinster, Munster, and Connaught shall notbe forsaken nor left to their own shifts. A rough and ready farmerthus spoke forth his mind:--"England may give the Papists a Parliamentto manage Papists, but not to manage Protestants. We should neverbegin to consider the advisability of submitting to it. The thing'sclean impossible. What! Let Papists tax us! Pay for the spread ofPopery! Did you ever hear anything so absurd? Not one farthing would_I_ ever pay. I'd leave the country first. So would all the decent, industrious folks. We know what happens in every country where Poperygets the mastery. Look at Spain, Italy, and the Catholic parts ofIreland. If England sends an army of redcoats to punish us for ourloyalty, we shall give way at once. We've sense enough to know that wecould do nothing against the Queen's troops, even if we wished tofight them. But to take arms against the soldiers of England would bequite against our principles. What we should ultimately do, undermilitary compulsion, we have not yet decided, but we should neverunder any circumstances show fight against the Queen. We don't thinkthe day will ever come when England would send the military to shootus for sticking to England. As for the police of the Irish Parliament, that's another thing. They would have no assistance in Ulster. Thesheriff's officers, when engaged in the compulsory raising of taxes, would have a lively time, and I am sure they would never get anymoney. We don't take it seriously yet. If the bill were actually onthe statute book and an Irish House of Commons doing the Finnigan'swake business with the furniture legs of the College Green LunaticAsylum, even then we would not take it seriously. We shall never thinkit worth while to be serious until we see the British army firing onus. It's too ridiculous. We pay no attention to the Irish Nationalistmembers, whom we regard as a bankrupt lot of bursted windbags. Why, hardly one of them could be trusted with the till of a totty-wallopshop. To how many of them would Gladstone lend a sovereign? How manyof them could get tick in London for a new rig-out? Dublin is out ofthe question, of course, because in Dublin these statesmen are known. Would Englishmen let such men govern their country? Not likely. Norwill we. " I submitted that, so far as at present enacted, these very heroes werereally going to govern both England and Ireland. The great organ ofEnglish Roman Catholicism objecting to this has given great offence tothe Irish Papists, and the Nationalist press is shrieking with futilerage. English Catholicism and Irish Catholicism seem to be entirelydifferent politically. Englishmen are Englishmen first, and Catholicsnext. Irishmen look first to Rome, and cordially hate England, --thereis the difference. The Conservative Catholic organ says, referring tothe retention of members at Westminster:-- "With just as much reason might we import a band of eighty SouthAfricans, and whether they were eighty Zulus or eighty Archangels indisguise, their presence in the British House of Commons would be agross violation of the principles of representative government. Atpresent, as members of the common Parliament of an United Kingdom, English and Irish members have correlative rights, but when Irishaffairs are withdrawn from the Parliament at Westminster, on that daymust the Irish members cease to take part in purely Britishlegislation. We are asked to grant Home Rule to Ireland in deferenceto the wishes of the local majority, and then we are told we must letthe local majority in Great Britain be dictated to by eighty men whohave neither stake in the country nor business in her Parliament, andwho do not represent so much as even a rotten borough between them. " My Warrenpoint friend may well say that he cannot take it seriously. The dignity of the English Parliament is, however, a matter of greatconcern to Englishmen, and that for the present seems consigned to thecharge of Dillon, Healy, and Co. And all to further the Union ofHearts. Yet Misther Tay Day Sullivan, not content with the managementof both England and Ireland, proposes to oust us from India! The Irishfaction will boss the wuruld from ind to ind. Begorra, they will. TayDay says:-- England fears for India, For there her cruel work Was just as foul and hateful As any of the Turk. But when God sends us thither Her rule to overthrow, With fearless hearts rejoicing To work His will we'll go. Stupid little England Thinks to say us nay, But paltry little England Shall never stop our way. There is a tribute of affection! There is an outpouring of loyalty!There is an anthem to celebrate the Union of Hearts! It should be sunground a table, Gladstonians and Irish Home Rulers hand in hand, as in"Auld Lang Syne, " and given out by Pastor W. E. Gladstone, as shortmetre, two lines at a time. Why not? Stranger things are happeningevery day. Warrenpoint, July 20th. No. 51. --THE IRISH PRESS ON "FINALITY. " Englishmen who have any doubt remaining anent Home Rule should readthe Irish Nationalist press. Those who propose to concede the measurefor the sake of peace and finality should read, mark, learn, andinwardly digest the _United Ireland_ leader, which commences: "Let itbe pretended no more that the fate of the present Home Rule Bill ishenceforth a matter of vital interest to us, " and afterwards says, "Weshall have to go on fighting--to go on fighting--without even atemporary intermission, and whether this bill pass or not, this yearor next, or the year after, no matter what becomes of it. " "Mr. Gladstone's bill in its present form is exactly such a Central Councilas Mr. Chamberlain would have agreed to at the time of the Round TableConference. If it pass it can be no more than a milestone on ourmarch. To talk of finality any more would be simply grotesque, and yetthe Gladstonians have urged, in season and out of season, that thebill would be nothing if not 'final, reasonably final. '" The EnglishHome Rulers are dealt with as severely as the most hardened Unionistcould wish. The writer speaks of their "disastrous fatuity inconsuming the whole of this session of the Imperial Parliament, andthe greater part of one or two more, over a Home Rule Bill which willsettle nothing, no, not even for three years. " Disastrous fatuity is agood phrase, an excellent good phrase, in sooth. I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. Those who believe in the security of theGladstonian safeguards, and the pacific disposition of the Nationalistparty, will perhaps be able to put a friendly construction on thepassage which begins:--"And it is already settled that no man inIreland is to bear a rifle unless he be a soldier of the army ofoccupation, which will still be encamped on our soil 'to mak siccare. 'This hateful and degrading prohibition is what no Parnellite canpretend to consent to for any reasonable or unreasonable fraction of aperiod of reasonable finality. " Those who believe in the severecommercial morality and rigid honesty of the authors of the Plan ofCampaign will doubtless find their favourable opinion confirmed by thesucceeding remarkable complaint. "And the Irish Legislature--would itnot be better policy now to refuse to regard it as a Parliament and torefuse to call it so?--is forbidden to take away any person's propertyexcept by process of law, in accordance with settled principles andprecedents. There's trouble here. " There is indeed trouble here. AnIrish Parliament which could not "take away any person's propertyexcept by process of law" would be shorn of its principal functions, would fail to justify its existence, would fall immeasurably short ofthe popular expectation, would have, in fact, no earthly _raison d'être_. An Irish Parliament without power to take from him that hath, and give unto him that hath not, would be without functions, and thefoinest pisintry in the wuruld would instantly rebel against such anonentity. The farmers remember the oft-repeated statements of Mr. Timothy Healy to the effect that "landlordism is the prop of theBritish Government, and it is that we want to kick away. " And thebenefit accruing from this vigorous action was by the same eloquentpatriot very plainly stated. "The people of this country ought neverto be satisfied so long as a single penny of rent is paid for a sod ofland in the whole of Ireland. " And they never will be satisfied, withor without rent. Their dissatisfaction has enabled Mr. Healy to putmoney in his purse. The wail of a great people whose Parliament willnot be allowed to rob from all and sundry is accounted for towards theclose of the article. There will be trouble "as soon as the DublinLegislature becomes hard pushed for money, which will be desperatelyoften from the beginning, as is now plain. " These considerations are closely observed by the people of Strabane, the best of whom are steady loyalists. The town is bright, brisk, thriving, and Scotch. Or rather the Scottish element is conspicuous inthe main street, with its McCollum and Mackey, its Crawford and Aikin, its Colhoun and Finlay, its Lowry and McAnaw. There are several shirtfactories, of which the biggest is run by Stewart and Macdonald. Anumber of names which may be either English or Scotch are equally tothe front, Taylor, White, and Simms, cheek by jowl with doubtful caseslike McCosker and McElhinney, which, however, smack somewhat of thetartan. Macfarlane issues a notice, which is printed by Blair, andbesides White I notice Black and Gray. The establishment of Mr. Snodgrass, near the Scotch Boot Stores, was remindful of CharlesDickens, and the small flautist piping "Annie Laurie, " put me in mindof Robert Burns, the hairdresser of Warrenpoint. It became difficultto realise that this was Ireland. Not far away are two mountains, named respectively Mary Gray and Bessie Bell. The hills round Strabaneretain their Irish names, but the genius of the place is distinctlyScottish. There are Irish parts of Strabane, but they are unpleasantand unimportant. The Unionists pay three-fourths of the rates, butthere is only one Loyalist on the Town Council, which has ninemembers, of which number three retire annually in rotation. The TownCommissioners, as a whole, are not highly esteemed by the people ofStrabane. One of them, the leading light of the local Nationalistparty, is rated at £8. Another, a working plasterer, is the accreditedagent of the Home Rule party in this division of Tyrone, and isplayfully called the Objector-General, on account of hischaracteristic method of working in the Registry Court. The Chairman, who occupies the position of Mayor, but without the title, is rated at£13. Two small publicans are rated at £12 and £27 respectively. Theremainder, including the Conservative member, are rated sufficientlyhigh to be regarded as having some stake in the country, and noobjection is taken on this score. But the Strabane Town Commissionersare intolerant. Apart from the fact that they admit only one Unionistto a body which derives three-fourths of its funds from Unionists, they are distinctly intolerant in the matter of employment. Theyemploy no Protestants. Their solicitor, Mr. William Wilson, is indeedof the proscribed faith, but he seems to have inherited the officefrom his father. No Protestants need apply for any situation, howeversmall, under the Strabane Town Council, which pays its servants withthe money of Protestants. This is the party which clamours forequality of treatment, and eternally complains of the exclusiveness ofProtestantism. A well-known Strabaner said:-- "If we are shut out from the Town Council, it is, to some extent, ourown fault. Two causes mainly contributed to this result--the apathy ofthe Unionist voters, and the unwillingness of our best men to rub upagainst some of the men put forward by the other party. I say someonly, not all. We did not care to be mixed up with fellows of lowclass, especially when they are as ignorant as possible. Then again, we are well represented on the Poor Law Board, which really has allthe power, attending as it does to sanitation and so forth. TheNationalists greedily snap at every shred and semblance of power, andleave no stone unturned to get the mastery. There has come a sadchange over the poor folks, that is, the Roman Catholics. Formerlythey were civil and kind, and we all got on famously together. If aProtestant was out in the country a mile or two away, and rain cameon, they were hospitable with that beautiful old courtesy which wasone of the best things the nation possessed. It was something toboast of. It was unique, and could not be found in such perfection outof Ireland. It's all over now. Since Mr. Gladstone commenced todestroy the country the poor folks hereabouts have changed very muchfor the worse, and if you now got caught in a shower while out in thecountry you might be drowned before they would ask you to takeshelter. They expect to be enjoying our property very shortly. Theyfully believe that they will soon have the land and goods that we haveworked for and earned by the sweat of our brows, while they have stoodby complaining, instead of doing their best to get on. What shall I doif Home Rule becomes law? Just this--I shall get out of the country indouble-quick time. There will be no security for life or property. Thecountry will be a perfect Hell upon Earth. " There are three rivers at Strabane, which, notwithstanding the neglectof the guide-books, is well worth the tourist's attention. The Mourne, a really beautiful river, runs beside the town, washing the veryhouses of a long street, and meeting the Finn, another fine river, inthe meadows near Lifford, which is in Donegal, but for all that onlyten minutes' walk from Strabane. From the confluence the river iscalled the Foyle, so that from the splendid bridge leading intoLifford may be seen the rare spectacle of three considerable rivers inone meadow. Lifford is very clean and very pretty. The gaol is themost striking building, and I wandered through its deserted corridors, desolate as those of Monaghan. There were some strange marks in theprincipal square; a number of parallel lines which puzzled me. Iturned to the gaoler who had just liberated me for some explanation. "Faith, thin, it's the militia officers that made them. " "Studying fortification?" "Divil a fortification, thin. 'Tis lawn tennis it is, jist. " And so it was. Two courts of lawn tennis in the square of the countytown of Donegal! That will give some idea of the business traffic. An experienced electioneerer said:--"We had an awful fight before wecould return Lord Frederick Hamilton for North Tyrone. We had all ourwork cut out, for although we have on paper a majority of about onehundred, many of our people are non-resident landlords, or army andnavy men, and they are not here to vote for us. So that our majorityof forty-nine was a close thing, though not so close as we expected. The other side do not fight fair. Their tricks in the Registry Courtare most discreditable. Both parties fight the register, theNationalists expending any amount of time and money, and showing suchenthusiasm as our people never show. And this is the reason. Our Scotsfarmers--for they are as Scottish as their ancestors of two hundredyears ago--_will_ stick to their work, and persist in making theirwork the paramount concern of their lives. They cannot believe thatobjections will be made to their names on the register, and when suchobjections have been raised they must appear in person, and therecomes the difficulty. For if it's harvest time, or if engaged on anynecessary work, you cannot get them to the Court. At Newtonstewartwhere the bulk of the voters are Protestant, no less than fivesubstantial farmers were objected to successively. The inspector, thatis, the Nationalist agent who is supposed to look into the claims ofthe Unionist party, said that one had assigned the farm to his son, orthat another was not the real tenant, or that something else waswrong, and as this statement established a _primâ-facie_ case, itbecame necessary for the persons whose votes were questioned to comeinto Court. Now, there is the rub. The objector calculates that somewill not come, for he knows how hard it is to get them to come. Thenthey stuff the register with bogus names. They put down dozens ofpeople who don't exist, with the object of polling somebody forthem--if any of them should escape the scrutiny of the oppositeparty--and with the further object of causing the Unionist partyexpense and loss of time. For there is a stamp duty of threepence tobe paid for every objection, and then the Loyalist lawyer and hisstaff are kept at work for six weeks, instead of a fortnight or threeweeks, which should be the outside time taken. Then the annoyance andloss of time to the industrious Unionist voters, who have to leavetheir work. This does not hurt the opposite party, who have nothingelse to do, and who in these wrangling affairs are in their nativeelement, thoroughly enjoying themselves. What makes the work so hardfor the Loyalist lawyer is the fact that our folks are all forbusiness and look upon politics as a nuisance, while the other sidemake politics the principal business of their lives. They aretremendously energetic in this, but wonderfully supine in everythingelse. In politics they spare neither time nor money, nor (for thematter of that) swearing. The lying that goes on in the Registry Courtwould astonish Englishmen. The Papist party themselves admit that theyare awful liars, but they laugh it off, and plead that all is fair inlove and war. "The priest sits in the Revision Court all day long. In these RevisionCourts every priest is an agent of the Separatist party. They watchthe inspectors and witnesses, keeping a keen eye on those who do notswear hard enough, ready to reward or censure, as the case may be. Every Sunday the people are instructed from the altar as to theirpolitical action. This eternal elbowing-on keeps them up to theirwork, as well as the promises of the good things to come. Our folksare never worked up. That makes it very hard for us. They came uppretty well last time, though. But when one side is all for business, and the other side all for politics, the business folks arehandicapped. "The Nationalists ran John Dillon on one occasion. We smashed him up. No respectable constituency would ever return any of his class, and weresented the attempt to couple us with a man of that stamp. He wasbeaten by several hundreds. Then they ran a Mr. Wylie, who had been aLand Commissioner for this district. We thought that positivelyindecent, and we wondered that any gentleman would put himself in sucha position. He had been round here reducing rents, and then he cameforward as a candidate. We accuse him of bad taste, nothing worse. Heonly made one speech, though, and that was to thank the people forplacing him at the bottom of the poll. He confined himself tocanvassing. If he had once mounted the hustings we would have heckledhim about the Land Commission business. He knew that and never gave usa chance. It was a cute stroke of policy to bring him forward. He wasa Presbyterian, and might be Land Commissioner again. At least thepeople thought so. Then they tried a Professor Dougherty, ofLondonderry, another Home Rule Presbyterian; for there are a few, though you could count them off on your fingers, and they are ahundred times outnumbered by the Conservative Catholics. He belongedto Magee College, and we trotted out the whole of his co-professorsagainst him. We never had a meeting without one or other of hiscolleagues pitching into him--a great joke it was. "Over the water Mr. E. T. Herdman tried to get in for East Donegal, avery popular man who pays thirty or forty thousand pounds a year inwages. The people promised to support him. The priests promised tosupport him. They asked what would they do else, and what did he takethem for? They are so anxious about employment, these good men. Allthey want is the good of the people. You saw how they ran after theLord Lieutenant saying: Only find us work! You see how they run afterthe Countess of Aberdeen, who is encouraging industry (and about whomthere are some pickings). What did the people of East Donegal do, under the guidance of their clergy? They returned Arthur O'Connor, whonever did anything for them, who never darkens their doors, and who isutterly unknown to them. What can you say for them after that?" The politician who was preferred to Mr. Herdman probably promised togive the people "all they want, " while the Unionist was only payingthem wages for working all the year round. And besides this, Mr. O'Connor's speeches were probably more full-flavoured, moresoul-satisfying, than those of Mr. Herdman, who, being a practical manof business, and having a sense of responsibility, would only talkcommon-sense, and would promise no more than he could hope to perform. Mr. O'Connor speaks in the epic style. He reminds you of BombastesFurioso, or Ancient Pistol, with a subtle admixture of Falstaff andParolles. He belongs to the lime-light and blue fire school oforatory, and backs up a vivid imagination with a virulent hatred ofEngland. The raging sea of sedition which surged around us is nowsilent enough. It Now hath quite forgot to rave While birds of calmsit brooding on the charmed wave. The reason why is plain or should beplain to anything above the level of a Gladstonian intellect. Itcannot be amiss, though, to recall a specimen of Mr. Arthur O'Connor'sstyle, that so we may judge of his superior acceptability to thepeople of East Donegal. Speaking after the Union of Hearts had beeninvented and patented (provisionally), Mr. O'Connor said:-- "I know it to be a fact that in whatever war Great Britain may beinvolved, whatever Power she may have to struggle with, that Power cancount on a hundred thousand Irish arms to fight under her flag againstGreat Britain--(great cheering). Does not the Government of the UnitedStates know perfectly well that at three days' notice it could have aforce, of which one hundred thousand would only be a fraction, a forcewilling to serve against Great Britain for the love of the thing, without any pay?--(renewed applause). And it is not amiss that theGovernment of England should know it also"--(continued applause). TheM. P. Who made this speech is one of the politicians now dominating theEnglish Parliament at Westminster. It is in response to the clamour ofhim and his sort that the gag is put on men like Balfour, Goschen, Chamberlain. This little gem set in the silver sea, this isle, thisrealm, this England, is becoming a paltry concern, is fast beingGladstoned into drivelling imbecility. What does O'Connor mean by the100, 000 Irish arms? Does he mean 50, 000 Irishmen? The point isobscure, as will be seen from the oratory of another distinguishedpatriot, who said, "Ten millions of Irish hearts are beating with highanticipation, ten millions of eyes are looking forward to the passingof the bill. " A very large number of one-eyed Irishry. The _Irish Catholic_ makes a slip. The journal approves of Mr. Gladstone's closure, but with reference to the refusal of a newspaperto print a Dr. Laggan's letter about, something delivers itselfthus:-- The application of the gag in polities has always been the resort of the stupid, incapable, and tyrannical politician. Whether tried in Russia, in France, or in England of old, it has invariably failed in its purpose. The stifling of the individual voice becomes of small advantage when the object-lesson of its possessor with a bandage across his mouth, and his hands tied behind his back, is presented to the populace. Just as the gag has failed elsewhere it is, we are glad to think, destined to fail in Ireland also, and, indeed, if it were not so destined, Ireland would be precisely the best country to live out of. So much for absent-mindedness. It is pleasant to be able to agree withthe _Irish Catholic_ for once. On the whole, the confusion is deepening. The Grand Juries of Irelandare passing unanimous resolutions condemning the bill. The Nationalistparty condemns the bill. The Scottish Covenanters, who have notdelivered a political pronouncement for more than two hundred years, and who never vote either way, have risen in their might and cursedthe bill, smiting the Papists hip and thigh with great slaughter, anddenouncing the movement as purely in the interests of Romanistascendency. Be it understood that these religionists live in Irelandand date their malediction from Coleraine. But nothing will stop theG. O. M. 's gallop over the precipice. Let him go, but let him not dragthe country after him. And in after years his Administration will bedescribed in words like those of Burke, who, speaking of the Gladstoneof his day, said, "He made an Administration so checked and speckled, he put together a piece of joinery so crossly indented and whimsicallydovetailed, a cabinet so variously inlaid, such a piece of diversifiedmosaic, such a tesselated pavement without cement, that it was indeeda curious show, but utterly unsafe to touch and unsure to stand upon. The colleagues whom he had assorted at the same boards, stared at eachother, and were obliged to ask, 'Sir, your name?' 'Sir, you have theadvantage of me. Mr. Such-a-one, I beg a thousand pardons. ' I ventureto say that persons were there who had never spoken to each other intheir lives until they found themselves together they knew not how, pigging together heads and points in the same truckle bed. " This isprophecy. Have you heard that Mr. Balfour, who went through Ireland without anescort, is unable to move about England without the protection of ahundred and fifty mounted police to save him from English Home Rulerswho are burning to avenge the wrongs of Ireland? No? England is badlyserved in the matter of news. They manage these things better inIreland. A leading Dublin Nationalist print has a number of prominentheadlines referring to the "facts. " "The Arch-Coercionist Protected byPolice. Caught in His Own Trap. " The writer even goes into particularsand tells how "effusively" the ex-Secretary thanked the police forprotecting his "frail personality. " The Irish moonlight patriots aregratified. Balfour was their aversion. During his reign it could nolonger be said that the safest place in Ireland, the one spot where noharm could befall you, was the criminal dock. Balfour stamped outmidnight villainy, and helped the industrious poor. Wherefore he ishonoured by honest Irishmen and hated by all rascalry. Ireland needshim again with his _suaviter in modo, fortiter in re_; his fairnessand firmness, his hatred of tyranny, his determination to do rightthough the heavens should fall. With Balfour in office the Irishagitators have hard work to keep the broil agoing. They hate himbecause of the integrity which won the confidence of the Irish people, and because of the substantial benefit arising from his rule, abenefit there was no denying because it was seen and known of all men. The return of Balfour to power threatens to cut the ground from underthe feet of those who live by agitation. They dread him aboveeverything. They are horror-stricken at the prospect of a return tohis light railways and heavy sentences. Hence this attempt to damagehis prestige. Unhappy Mr. Balfour! To be protected by one hundred andfifty mounted police, and not to know of it! And the venal Englishpress which conceals the fact, what shall be said of it? Where wouldEngland be but for Irish newspaper enterprise? Strabane, July 22nd. No. 52. --HOW THE PRIESTS CONTROL THE PEOPLE. This is a terribly Protestant place. The people are unpatriotic and donot want Home Rule. They speak of the Nationalist members withcontempt, and say they would rather be represented by gentlemen. Theyare very incredulous, and refuse to believe in the honesty of "honest"John Dillon. They say that Davitt is a humbug and Healy a blackguard. They speak of O'Brien's breeches without weeping, and opine thatDavitt's imprisonments and Healy's horse-whipping served them bothright. These misguided Irishmen affect to believe that the Englishlaws are good, that Ireland is a splendid country, and that thingswould be far better as they are. Raphoe is on the road to nowhere, andyet it runs a rattling tweed mill--the proprietor is a Unionist, ofcourse. Queer it is to see this flourishing affair in the wilds ofDonegal. Blankets, travelling rugs, and tweed for both sexes, ofexcellent quality and pretty patterns. Raphoe has a cathedral, butwithout features of note. The bishop's palace is in ruins. In 1835 thebishopric was annexed to Derry. The police of this district are sad atheart. There are but few of them, very few indeed, and they have nowork to do. These Protestant districts afford no pleasurableexcitement. Work, work, work, without any intervals of moonlightingand landlord shooting. These Saxon settlers have no imagination. Likemill horses, they move in one everlasting round, unvaried even by amodicum of brigandage. An occasional murder, a small suspicion ofarson, might relieve the wearisome monotony of their prosaicexistence, but they lack the poetic instinct. They have not thesporting tastes of their Keltic countrymen. They are not ashamed ofthis, but even glory in it. An Orangeman asked me to quote a case ofshooting from behind a wall by any of his order. He says no such thingever took place, and actually boasted of it! He declared that if thebody had in future any shooting to do they would do it in the open. The Nationalist patriots are more advanced. They know a trick worthtwo of that. The Protestant party have no experience in premeditatedmurder, and must take a back seat as authorities in the matter. Theyhave not yet discovered that shooting from behind a wall iscomparatively safe, and safety is a paramount consideration. Landlordsand agents carry rifles, and should they be missed unpleasant resultsmight ensue. The case of Smith, quoted in a Mayo letter, shows thedanger of missing. It is not well to place the lives of experiencedand valuable murderers at the mercy of a worthless agent. TheNationalist party cannot afford to expose to danger the pricelessruffians whose efforts have converted Mr. Gladstone and his Tail. Thepatriots need every man who can shoot, and the stone walls of Irelandare a clear dispensation of Providence. To shoot in the open is aflying in the face of natural laws. The patriots are wedded to thewalls, or, as they call them in Ireland, ditches. The "back iv aditch" is a proverbial expression for the coign of vantage assumed forthe slaying of your enemy. Like General Jackson, the Irish areStone-wallers, but in another sense. They have brought the Art ofMurder with Safety to its highest pitch of perfection. They are theleading exponents of mural musketry. A moderate Unionist said:--"To speak of tolerance in the same breathwith Irish Roman Catholicism is simply nonsense. You will not find anybelievers in this theory among the Protestants of this district, although being more numerous they are not so much alarmed as theunfortunate residents in Romanist centres. We cannot believe anythingso entirely opposed to the evidence of our senses. A Protestant farmerof my acquaintance, the only Protestant on a certain estate, hasconfided to me his intention of leaving the district should the billpass, because he thinks he could not afterwards live comfortably amonghis old neighbours. A woman who had occupied the position of servantin a Protestant family for forty years, recently went to her mistresswith tears in her eyes, and said her clergy had ordered her to leave, as further continuance in the situation would be dangerous to hereternal interests. A girl who had been four years in another situationhas also left on the same plea. The progress of Romanism is distinctlytowards intolerance. It becomes narrower and narrower as time goes on. This is proved by the fact that formerly dispensations were grantedfor mixed marriages--that is, Catholic and Protestant--on theunderstanding that the children should be brought up, the boys in thefather's faith, the girls in the mother's. All that is now changed, and dispensations are only granted on condition that all the childrenshall be Roman Catholics. The absolute despotism of the Catholicclergy is every year becoming more marked. They rule with a rod ofiron. A bailiff of my acquaintance who had paid all his clerical dues, was very badly treated because he was a bailiff and for no otherearthly reason. No priest in Ireland would perform the marriageceremony for his daughter, who actually went to America to be married. She was compelled to this, the bridegroom going out in another boat. The ceremony being performed, they returned to Ireland, and the girl'sfather assures me that the affair cost him fifty pounds. The case ofMrs. Taylor, of Ballinamore, was a very cruel one, which a word fromthe priest of the district would have altogether prevented. But thatword was not spoken, for she was a Protestant. Her brother haddischarged a cotter, I do not know whether justly or unjustly, butalthough Mrs. Taylor had nothing whatever to do with the affair--andit was not asserted that she had--she was severely boycotted. Thebrother, who was the guilty party, if anybody was guilty, was ratherout of the way, and being a substantial farmer, quite able to hold hisown, could not be got at. But Mrs. Taylor was a widow, and lived byrunning a corn mill. Nobody went near it, nobody would have anythingto do with the widow, who, however, struggled on, until the mill wasburnt to the ground. She was compensated by the County, and rebuiltthe mill. This spring it was again burnt down, and she is ruined. Herproperty is now in the Receiver's hands, and she is going through theBankruptcy Court. "The Home Rule Bill has produced, with much that is tragic, somecomical effects. Since the passing of the Second Reading our servanthas become unmanageable. She is evidently affected in the same way asmany of the most ignorant Papists, believing that the time will sooncome when, by the operation of the new Act, she will so far rise inthe social scale as to be quite independent of her situation. Thiskind of thing is visible all around. There is work for everyone abouthere, but the farmers cannot get labourers. In many parts of Irelandthe cry is 'There is no employment, ' but here it is not so. There isplenty of work at good wages, waiting to be done, but men cannot begot to do it. The Sion Mills, which employ twelve hundred people, eight hundred Catholics and four hundred Protestants, would employmany more if they could be had. The labourers of this district areCatholic, and they prefer to stand loafing about to the performance ofregular work. They believe that a perpetual holiday is coming, andthat they may as well have a foretaste of the ease which is to come. Up to the times of the Home Rule Bill they were industrious enough. The Catholics of Tyrone and Donegal are not like those of the Southand West. They are very superior, both in cleanliness and industry. Having for so long mingled with the Saxon settlers of the North, theyhave imbibed some of their industrial spirit, and until lately therewas no reasonable ground of complaint. Their morale is unhappily nowsadly shaken, and whether the bill passes or not it will be long, verylong, before they resume their industrial pursuits with the energy andregularity of men who have nothing on which to depend but their ownexertions. And whatever happens to the bill, the country will be thepoorer for its introduction. Ireland is now an excellent country tolive out of, and those who can leave it have the most enviable lot. " A man of few words said:--"Under Home Rule the landlords may taketheir hook at once. Their property will disappear instanter. Thetenant has already more lien on the land than the fee-simple _in toto_is worth, and with a Nationalist Parliament he would pay no rent atall. The judges would not grant processes, and if they did theirwarrants could not be enforced. The destruction of the landlord classmeans the destruction of English influence in Ireland. A short timeago two men were talking together. One was doubtful, and said, 'Michael Davitt says we must have only five acres of land. Now youhave twenty-five acres, you'll lose twenty. ' 'Ye didn't read itright, ' said the other. ''Tis the landlords and them that holds athousand and two thousand acres that'll be dispossessed, and theirland divided among the people. In six years we'll have the counthryindependent, and then we'll do as we like. Every Saxon will becleared out of the counthry. Only keep yer tongue between yer teeth. Be quiet and wait a bit till ye see what happens. ' "'But, ' said the objector, 'them Ulster fellows'll give us no peace. They have arms, and I'm towld they have a lot of sojers among them, and that they're drilled, and have officers, regular militaryofficers. Sure, how would we do as we liked, wid an army of themfellows agin us? And they're devils to fight, they say. ' "'Arrah now, sure, ye're mighty ignorant, thin. Sure, they say they'llnot pay taxes. Thin the sojers comes in and shoots them down, and youand I stands by wid our tongues in our cheeks. 'Tis no consarn ofours. We have nothin' to say to it, one way or another. The Orangemencan shoot the troops, and the troops can shoot the Orangemen, and theycan murdher each other to their heart's contint, and fight likeKilkenny cats, till there's nothin' left but the tail. And good enoughfor the likes of them. Sure, twill be great divarshun for them thatlooks on. And that's the way of it, d'ye mind me?'" This worthy politician must have been a perfect Machiavelli. Hisfavourite saying was doubtless 'A plague on both your houses, ' andwith equal certainty his favourite quotation the bardic 'WhetherRoderigo kill Cassio, or Cassio kill Roderigo, or each kill the other, every way makes my gain. ' His theory of Nationalist progress wasfour-square and complete, and showed a neat dovetailing of means withthe end. There is some justification for his simple faith. He has seenMr. Gladstone and his supporters, converted _en bloc_, including thegreat Sir William Harcourt, styled by the Parnellite sheet "thenew-born, emancipator of Ireland, " the unambitious and retiringLabouchere, the potent Cunninghame Graham, the profound Conybeare, andthe pertinacious Cobb--he has seen these great luminaries throwing intheir lot with the sworn enemies of England, and doing all that inthem lies to disintegrate and destroy the Empire, and the rude peasantmay be pardoned for expecting that the British army will, at his call, complete what these worthies have so well begun. To narrow loyalistliberties, to tax loyalist industry, to create a loyalist rebellion, and to have the loyalists shot by other loyalists is an excellentall-round scheme. This is indeed a high-souled patriotism. Continuing, my friend said:--"A Romanist neighbour of mine hadpromised to vote for Lord Frederick Hamilton, for, as he said, he hadno confidence in any Irish Parliament. Just before the battle hecalled and said he must vote the other way, for Father Somebody hadcalled on him and said, 'I hear you are going to vote for LordFrederick Hamilton. ' Admitted. 'Then you may call in Lord FrederickHamilton to visit you on your death-bed. You can get him to administerthe Sacraments of the Church. ' 'What could I do?' said the farmer. 'Icouldn't go against the priest. I could not incur the anger of myclergy without imperilling my immortal soul. Besides that, I'd be madea mark and a mock of. Perhaps I'd be refused admission to Mass, likethe men in South Meath who voted contrary to the orders of thepriest. So to save my soul I'll have to vote against my conscience. Nouse in telling me we will vote by ballot. Them priests knowseverything. They fix themselves in the polling booths, and they canread what way ye went in your face. Sure, they know us all inside andout, since we were So high. We couldn't desave them. ' Then they alwaysact as personation agents, and they order people who can read andwrite to say they can't do either. So they have to declare aloud whomthey will vote for, and the priest hears for himself. This is the trueexplanation of the fearful illiteracy of Donegal, as revealed by thevoting papers. Is it likely that in one quarter of Donegal--that is, in one-fourth part of one county--there should be more illiteratesthan in the whole of Scotland? Yet according to the election returns, it was even so. The fact that the people declared themselvesilliterate at the orders of the priest, when they were not illiterate, shows how degraded are the people, and how completely they are underthe thumb of the priests. " A Protestant clergyman on his holidays, and not belonging to theseparts, was very eloquent on the subject of political popery. In all myjourneyings I have never interviewed a Protestant parson, save andexcept Dr. Kane, whom I met in the Royal Avenue, Belfast, along withthe Marquess of Londonderry and Colonel Saunderson, as recorded in anearly letter. I was disposed to believe that the English public mightregard their evidence as being prejudiced, and therefore of littlevalue. But my Raphoe acquaintance was a singularly modest and moderateman, upon whose opinion you at once felt you could rely. He said:--"MyCatholic neighbours were friends until lately. Nobody could have beenmore kind and obliging. There was no sensible difference between us, except that they did not come to church. They would do anything for meand my family; we would do anything for them. Lately they have changedtheir manner. They have grown cold. Their children playing with minehave let out the secret. Through them we learn that the days of theProtestants are numbered. Father says this, and mother says that. Myland is disposed of among my Papist neighbours. All my congregationhave similar experiences. This makes things very unpleasant, andnothing can ever bring back the kind, neighbourly feeling of old. ThePapist clergy are the cause of it all. Their church is nothing if notabsolute, and dominancy is their aim. The Protestant party will get noquarter. I do not say we shall be murdered, or even personallymaltreated. But when the large majority of a district want to see theback of you, with the idea of dividing your farm or your Church lands, they have many ways of making things so unpleasant that you would soonbe glad to go. For my own part, I should endeavour to leave thecountry at the earliest possible moment. And that is what 999Protestants out of 1, 000 would tell you. The clergy are inimical toEngland. Here and there you find a Conservative, and, strange to say, the scholarly men, what you might call the gentlemanly party, areagainst Home Rule. These, unhappily, are very few. The Maynooth menare violently against England. " This cleric called attention to theopinion of Dr. Wylie, of Edinburgh, who has made a special study ofthe matter. The learned professor says the more palpable decadence ofIreland dates from the erection of Maynooth. Before the institution ofthis school the Irish priests were educated in France, then the leastultramontane country in popish Europe. They could not be there withoutimbibing a certain portion of the spirit of "Gallican liberties. " Itwas argued that by educating them at home, we should have a class ofpriests more national and more attached to British rule; at least wewould have gentlemen and scholars, who would humanise their flocks. These have since been shown to be miserable sophisms. "Maynooth is athoroughly ultramontane school. We have exchanged the French-bredpriest, illread in Dens, with low notions of the supremacy, andproportionally high notions of the British Crown, for a race ofcrafty, Jesuitical, intriguing, thorough-trained priests of theultramontane school, who recognise but one power in the world--thePontifical--and who are incurably alienated from British interests andrule. The loud and fearful curses fulminated from the altar, whichcome rolling across the Channel, mingled with the wrathful howls of apriest-ridden and maddened people, proclaim the result. These are yourMaynooth scholars and gentlemen! These are your pious flocks, tendedand fed by the lettered priests of Maynooth! Better had we flung ourmoney into the sea, than sent it across the Channel, to be a curse inthe first place to Ireland, and a curse in the second place toourselves, by the demoralising and anti-national sentiments it hasbeen employed to propagate. The better a priest, the worse a citizen. And whom have Government found their bitterest enemies? Who are theparties who have invariably withstood all their plans for civilisingIreland? Why, those very priests whom they have clothed, and educated, and fed. " Such, according to an expert, are the men who now manipulate thevoting powers of the Irish people. The priests do not deny that theyhave this full control; they merely say they have a right to it. Bishop Walsh, of Dublin, says that as priests, and independent of allhuman organisations, they have an inalienable and indisputable rightto guide the people in this momentous proceeding, as in every otherproceeding where the interests of Catholicity as well as the interestsof Irish nationality are involved. He suggested, and the suggestionwas adopted, that at all the political conventions held in the variousIrish counties an ex-officio vote should be given to the priests! Thisembodied the principle that if Home Rule became law the Irishpriesthood would have privileges which would make them absolute rulersof Ireland. Cardinal Logue says:--"We are face to face at the presentmoment with a great disobedience to ecclesiastical authority. " Thiswas in view of the Parnellite rebellion against priestly dictation. "The doctrines of the present day, " said the good Cardinal, "arecalculated (horror!) to wean the people from the priests' advice, toseparate the priests from the people, and (here the Cardinal must haveshivered with unspeakable disgust) TO LET THE PEOPLE USE THEIR OWNJUDGMENT. " These are Cardinal's words, not mine. To make any commentwould be to gild refined gold, to paint the lily, to throw a perfumeo'er the violet. Well might Mr. Gladstone say nineteen years ago:--"Itis the peculiarity of Roman theology, that by thrusting itself intothe temporal domain, it naturally, and even necessarily, comes to be afrequent theme of political discussion. " Archbishop Croke was theinspirer of the Tipperary troubles, worked out by his tools, Dillon, O'Brien, and Humphreys. Dr. Croke helped to found the Gaelic AthleticAssociation, which is well-known to be the nucleus of a rebel army. Dr. Croke gave £5 to the Manchester Murderers' Memorial Fund, andaccompanied the gift with a letter stating that the men who murderedPolice-sergeant Brett were "wrongfully arrested, unfairly tried, barbarously executed, and went like heroes to their doom. " It was Dr. Croke who supported a movement to raise a pension for James Stephens, the Fenian Head-centre, the famous Number One, the general of theIrish Revolutionary Brotherhood. We are asked to believe that thisgentleman and his crew of subordinate clergy are eminently loyal, andthat the moment a Home Rule Bill puts it into their power to injureEngland, from that very moment they will become friendly indeed, willcease to do evil and learn to do well, and that the altars from whichEngland is now every Sunday hotly denounced will in future vibratewith the resonant expression of sacerdotal affection. These gentlemen must have a wonderful opinion of the gullibility ofthe great Saxon race. But as they see a certain portion believe in Mr. Gladstone they may expect them to believe in anything. To swallow theG. O. M. Plus Harcourt, Healy, Conybeare, Cobb, O'Brien, and the HomeRule Bill is indeed a wonderful feat of deglutition. Raphoe, (Co. Donegal), July 25th. No. 53. --WHAT THEY THINK IN COUNTY DONEGAL. The Stranorlar people can be excessively funny. In a well-known publicresort yesterday I witnessed a specimen of their sportive style. Ayoung fellow was complaining that the examining doctor of somerecruiting station had refused him "by raison of my feet. " "I heerd tell they wouldn't take men wid more than fifteen inches offoot on thim, " remarked a bystander. "The Queen couldn't shtand theexpinse at all at all in leather. " "Arrah, now, will ye be aisy, " said another. "Sure, Micky isn't allout so bad as Tim Gallagher over there beyant, that has to get up an'go downstairs afore he can tur-rn round in bed. An' all on account ivthe size iv his feet. 'Tis thrue what I spake, divil a lie I tell ye. The boy has to get up and go down shtairs, an' go into the sthreet, an' come up the other way afore he can tur-rn round, the crathur. " "Hould yer whist, now, till I tell ye, " said another. "Ye knowKerrigan's whiskey-shop. Well, one day Kerrigan was standin' chattin'wid his wife, when the shop-windy all at once wint dark, an' Kerriganroars out, 'What for are ye puttin' up the shutters so airly?' sayshe. An' faix, 'twas no wondher ye'd think it, for ould Hennessy ofBallybofey had fallen down in the street, an' it was the twogood-lookin' feet of him stickin' up that was darkenin' the shop. AxKerrigan himself av it wasn't. " A roar of laughter followed this sally, and the rejected recruit wascomforted. Stranorlar is pleasantly situated on the river Finn, in a fertilevalley surrounded by an amphitheatre of green hills, beyond which mayin some direction be seen the more imposing summits of the Donegalhighlands. The walk to Meenglas, Lord Lifford's Irish residence, wouldbe considered of wonderful beauty if its extensive views were visibleanywhere near Birmingham; but in Ireland, where lovely scenery is souncommonly common, you hardly give it a second glance. The tenantryare mostly Nationalist, if they can be said to be anything at all. They one and all speak highly of Lord Lifford, whose kindness andlong-suffering are administered _con amore_ by genial Captain Baillie. They have no opinions on Home Rule or, indeed, on any other politicalsubject, and will agree with anything the stranger may wish. Whateveryou profess as your own opinion is certain to be theirs, and likeArtemus Ward they might conclude their letters with "I don't know whatyour politics are, but I agree with them. " Every man Jack of theCatholic peasantry votes as he is told by his priest, and no amount ofargument, no amount of most convincing logic, no earthly power couldmake him do otherwise. He will agree with you, will swear all you say, will go further than you go yourself, will clinch every argument youoffer in the most enthusiastic way. Then he will vote in the oppositedirection. He thinks that in voting against the priest he would bevoting against God, and his religion compels him to conscientiouslyvote against his conscience, if any. A burning and shining light amongthe Home Rulers of Stranorlar having been indicated, I contrived tomeet him accidentally as it were, and after some preliminary remarksof a casual nature my friend informed me that he was agin Home Rule, as, in his opinion, it would desthroy the counthry; that the farmersbelieved they would get the land for nothing, and that they were toldthis by "priests and lawyers;" that he believed this to be a delusionfrom which the people would have a dreadful awakening; thatProtestants were better off, cleaner, honester than Catholics; thatthey were much more industrious and far better farmers, and so forth, and so forth. This man is a red hot Nationalist, and was under theimpression he was "having his leg pulled, " hence his accommodatingspeech. When taxed with flagrant insincerity he only smiled, andtacitly admitted the soft impeachment. Farmers you meet in rural laneswill profess earnest Unionism, but--find out their religion--you needask no more. Whatever they may say, whatever their alleged opinionsmay be, matters not a straw. They must and will vote as the priesttells them. So that the last franchise Act endows every priest with athousand votes or so. Will anybody attempt to disprove this? Will anyliving Irishman venture to contradict this statement? The fact beingadmitted, Englishmen may be trusted to see its effect. Is there anyclass or trading interest which would be by working men entrusted withsuch enormous power? And these thousand-vote priests are unfriendly toEngland, as is proved by their own utterances and by innumerable overtacts. All of which merits consideration. The Stranorlar folks are warm politicians. At the present momentfeeling runs particularly high, on account of the riot on KingWilliam's Day, to wit, July twelfth. Two Orangemen were returning fromCastlefinn, a few miles away, where a demonstration had taken place, and passing through Stranorlar, accompanied by their sisters, theywere set upon by the populace, and brutally maltreated. Several shotswere fired, and some of the rioters were slightly wounded or rathergrazed by snipe shot, but not so seriously as to stop their dailyavocations. The Catholic party allege that the Orangemen assaulted thevillage in general, firing without provocation. The Protestant partysay that this is absurd, and that it is not yet known who fired theshots. A second case, less serious, is also on the carpet. A solitaryOrangeman returning from the same celebration is said to have beenwaylaid, beaten, and robbed by a number of men who went two miles tomeet with him. This also is claimed as Orange rowdyism. A Protestant handicraftsman said:--"If we had a Catholic Parliament inDublin we should not be able to put our head out of doors. Those whoin England say otherwise are very ignorant. I have no patience withthem. Only the other day I heard an Englishman who had been in thecountry six hours, all of which he had spent in a railway train, arguing against an Irish gentleman who has spent all his life in thecountry. 'Give 'em their civil rights, ' says this English fellow. Hecould say nothing else. Give 'em their civil rights, ' says he. 'Whatcivil rights are they deprived of?' says the other. 'Give 'em theircivil rights, ' says he. That was all he could say. He was for all theworld like a poll-parrot. He was one of these well-fed fellows, withabout three inches of fat on his ribs and three inches of bone in hisskull, and a power of sinse _outside_ his head. He turned round on meand asked me to agree with him. When I didn't he insulted me. 'I seeby your hands, ' says he, 'that you've been working with them, and notwith your brains, ' says he. Well, he was a man with a gray beard, butnot a sign of gray hair on his head, so says I, 'Your beard, ' says I, 'is twenty-five years younger than the rest of your hair, and it lookstwenty-five years older. ' I see, ' says I, 'that _you_ have beenworking with your jaws and not with your brains. ' That made him vexed. He didn't know what to say next, and 'twas well for him. He was tooignorant for this counthry, though he might do very well for themplaces where they vote for such men as Harcourt or the like of him. "The people of these parts are skinned alive by their religion. Not ahand's turn can be done without money. Money for christening, forconfession, for everything from the cradle to the grave. And whenthey're dead the poor folks are still ruining the counthry, for theirrelatives run up and down begging money to get their souls out ofpurgatory. I have no objection to that; let them do it if they like, but let them not say they are poor because of England. The more moneythey pay the sooner their father's or mother's soul is out of torment. Of course they spend all they have. I was speaking with a priestlately, and I said, 'Suppose I fell into Finn-water, and a man who sawme drowning said, "I'll pull ye out for half-a-crown or a sovereign, "what would ye think of him?' Says the priest, 'I'd think him a bruteand a heathen. ' 'But suppose, instead of Finn-water it was purgatory Iwas in, and the priest said, "I'll pull ye out for five pounds, " whatabout him?' 'Good morning to ye, ' says the sogarth aroon (dearpriest). There was no answer for me. " Another Stranorlar man said:--"When the bill passed the secondreading, there was not a hill round about, for many a mile, without ablazing tar-barrel on it, and the houses were lit up till ye'd thinkthe places were on fire. The people were rejoicing for they knew notwhat. Says one to me, 'Ye can pack up yer clothes, ' says he. Theythink they will now get rid of the English, and have things all theirown way. That's their general idea. All their rejoicing passed offwithout a word of dissent from any Unionist. But if we rejoiced--!Suppose the bill were thrown out, and we lit a tar-barrel. We'd bestoned, and, if possible, swept off the very face of the earth. On St. Patrick's Day, March 17, they march over the place, flags flying, drums beating, bands playing, and nobody says a word against it. Butif we started an Orange procession on July 12 in Stranorlar, we'd beknocked into smithereens. And yet in the town we are abouthalf-and-half. Of course, when you get out into the wild districts theRomanists greatly outnumber us. The plea of reduction of rent beingrequired is very absurd when you come to examine the matter. Many ofthem pay three or four pounds a year only. What reduction on that sumwould do them any real good?" A land agent of Donegal showed me one page of a rent book, that Imight bear witness to indisputable facts. There were twenty-oneannual rents on the page, and eleven of them were under twopounds--most of them, in fact, were under thirty shillings. One manheld thirty-three acres for thirty-three shillings per annum. He hadpaid no rent for two years. Another estate in Donegal has two thousandtenants for a total rent of £2, 800. The agent has to look after allthese "farmers"--to conciliate, threaten, soother, bully, beg, pray, promise, cajole, hunt, treat, fight, curse, and comether the whole twothousand a whole year for, and in consideration of, the princely sumof a hundred and forty pounds. Many of the farmers have the privilegeof selling turf enough to clear the rent several times over, and ofcourse every man can shoot at the agent as much as he chooses, hissport in this direction being only limited by his supply ofammunition. Of late their powder has given out. Could not something bedone for these deserving men? A superior Home Ruler, one of those honest visionaries sometimes metin Ireland, said:--"For my own part, I confess that I aspire tocomplete independence. Then, and not till then, would the twocountries be friendly. We in Ulster are ten times more patriotic thanIrishmen elsewhere, for it is in Ulster that we have been most deeplywronged. The Hamiltons of Abercorn planted the country round here withScotch settlers, and various agencies between 1688 and 1715 are saidto have brought over more than fifty thousand Scottish families toUlster, which was already populated to its utmost extent. The Irishwere dispossessed, kicked out, and they have been out ever since. TheEarls of Tyrone and Tyrconnel took flight to save their heads, and sixcounties were declared confiscated--Londonderry, Donegal, Tyrone, Fermanagh, Cavan, and Armagh. These were all 'planted' with Englishand Scotch colonists. The land was given to certain favourites by theEnglish Government, which at that time was the stronger, and hasremained so ever since When we ask for our own again you cry out'Robbery, robbery!' _We_ are the people to say 'Stop thief!' You saythe owners of the land rebelled, and their property was rightlyconfiscated. We say they had a right to rebel, and that rebellion wasan honourable action. You took the country at first by force andfraud. We have, and always had, a right to regain what belongs to us, by any means in our power. We have never expressed affection for theEnglish Crown. We have never affected loyalty. We have been open, honourable enemies, and have always said we were biding our time. Weare accused of fraud, of duplicity. Never was any accusation soill-founded. I can refer to a hundred, aye, to a thousand utterancesof my countrymen which clearly set forth the sentiments which animateevery single individual Irishman. These settlers are not Irishmen. Their best friends would never claim for them Irish nationality. Mostof them came from the South-west of Scotland, where the most rigid andbigoted Presbyterianism flourished. Their creed, as well as ours, forbade any intermarrying. Separate they were, and separate theyremain. You might as well try to mix dogs and cats. And the attitudeof the two races is mutually antagonistic--exactly like dogs andcats. They have led a dog and cat life from the first, and if theScots have thriven while the Kelts have made little progress, it isbecause the Scots have been favoured by the English Government, whichis composed of Teutons like themselves. Let the Scots stick toEngland. It suits them, it does not suit us. The Welsh don't like youeither, but they have not the pluck to spit it out. They will tellIrishmen what they think, and it is not flattering to England. Theyare quite as bitter as Irishmen, and, like them, look on England asthe biggest humbug, hypocrite, and robber in the world. I never hearda Welshman speak well of England, and I have spoken with scores ofthem. Now, we have a religious difference with England, which Taffyhas not. "We claim that our nation is more talented than stupid England, moresparkling, more brilliant. But we also say that as we are moresentimental, and as sentiment is to us a matter of life and death, wecannot develop our industries, we cannot do ourselves justice, whilesubjugated by England. Freedom is our watchword. We want an army, anavy, a diplomacy of our own. We do not admit that England has anyright to control our action, and we defy any man to prove that anycountry has a right to dictate our laws. Independence must come in thelong run. Everything is tending in that direction. We may not get HomeRule at present, but we _shall_ get it. Then we shall be able toreport progress. I believe that the material prosperity of thiscountry will increase by leaps and bounds in exact proportion to theloosening of Saxon restraint, and freedom from selfish Englishinterference. Our trade has been deliberately strangled, ourmanufactures deliberately ruined, by English influence on behalf ofEnglish interests. Then you ask us to believe that we have benefitedby our union with England! We do not believe it. England has been thegreatest modern curse, spreading her octopus arms over every weakcountry in the world. She goes to make money, and says she only wishesto push forward civilisation. Read Labouchere's opinion of England, and you will see what she is--a greedy, whining hypocrite. She holdsIndia by fear, at the point of the bayonet--all for greed. Then herspeakers get up on their philanthropic platforms, and after shooting afew thousand niggers and poisoning off the rest with rum, they saythat such and such a country is now under the blessed rule of England, which is established merely for the propagation of the truth as it isin Jesus. You make out that your rum, rifles, and missionaries areonly instruments in the hands of the Society for the Propagation ofthe Gospel in Foreign Parts. Away with such hypocrisy! England is abig bully, crushing the weak and truckling to the strong--truckling tothe weak, even, when fairly taken to. Look at the Transvaal. When Isee what a handful of Dutch farmers did with your grand army--when Isee how a country with less than a quarter of the population ofIreland freed itself and knocked your bold army into a cocked hat, Iam ashamed to be an Irishman submitting to foreign rule. You will atany rate see why we Irishmen in Ulster are even more rebellious thanour southern countrymen. It is because these devilish plantations werein the North, and because we are outnumbered in the North by men whoare really foreigners. Let them be loyal. No doubt it suits them best. But we will only be loyal to our country, which is Ireland, notEngland. And if these Scots, wrongly called Ulstermen, don't like thenew arrangement, they can leave the country. No obstacle will beplaced in the way of their departure. That I can promise you. Theywill leave the land, I suppose? That being so, we can spare thesettlers. And as they got the land for nothing, they must be contentto part with it on the same terms. Now you understand the No Rent cry. Now you understand the No Landlord cry. The land was stolen from thepeople, and the people carefully remember the fact. You hearNationalists speaking ill of the Irish members. The members have donewell for us. They have done grandly. Fourscore Irishmen have conqueredthe British Empire, and without firing a shot. That after all beatsthe record of the Boers, but they got complete independence. We arenot yet there; but it will come, it will come. " An equally intelligent Unionist, who bore a Scottish name, said:--"Does it suit England to throw us overboard? Because that meansthe giving up of the country. You can't hold Ireland without a friendin it. Twice the Protestant population have saved it for you. Itsgeographical position forbids you to give it up. That would ruin youat once. And yet immediate separation would be far better than awasting agitation. Better plunge over a precipice than be bled todeath. Better blow out your brains than be roasted at a slow fire. England is being kicked to death by spiders. And all in the interestsof Rome. If the people here had any opinions I would not say a wordagainst anything they might do, but they have none at all. They showtheir teeth because they are told to do so. All the disturbances whichdisgrace the country are excited by the priests, who pretend todisapprove of them, but who secretly approve. For the priests have thepeople thoroughly in hand, and whatever they really disapprove theycan stop in one moment. "There is an organised clerical conspiracy to resist the law and tokeep the agitation on foot, with the object of obtaining a completeCatholic ascendency. They bleed the poor people to death with theirexactions, and the number of new buildings they have lately erected inIreland almost exceeds belief. We have a splendid new Romanist Churchin this little place. Well may the people say they can't pay rent. When Cardinal Logue's father died there was a collection for thegeneral Church which realised more than eight hundred pounds. When apriest dies or when a priest's relative dies there is always acollection for the cause. Eight hundred pounds out of the starvingpeasantry of Donegal, for whose relief the English are alwayscollecting money! Cardinal Logue's father was Lord Leitrim's coachman, and was on the spot when my lord was shot. The horse fell lame at theright moment. Curious coincidence--very. This Home Rule farce isgrowing rather stale. Cannot the English see that it is urged by a setof thieves and traitors? Cannot they see that brains and property areeverywhere against it? And Gladstone's speeches show such ignorance ofthe subject that no Irishman can read or listen with common patience. To judge from his Irish orations I should say that he is not fit to bePrime Minister to a Parliament of idiots. What do you think?" I was sorry to dissent, but I said that to the best of my knowledgeand belief Mr. Gladstone was of all men best fitted for such a post. Stranorlar (Co. Donegal), July 27th. No. 54. --A SAMPLE OF IRISH "LOYALTY. " The country round here seems especially rich in minerals of all sorts. Bog-ore, to be spoken of as bog ore, is abundant, and manganese isknown to exist in large quantities. Soapstone of excellent quality isalso plentiful, and the peasantry will tell you that on the passing ofthe Home Rule Bill they will at once proceed to dig out theinexhaustible stores of gold, silver, lead, iron, tin, and coal, withwhich the district abounds. Ireland is a perfect El Dorado, and whenthe brutal Saxon shall have taken his foot off her throat, whenParlimint and the sojers allow the quarries to be worked, the mines tobe sunk, the diamonds under Belfast to be dug up, the country willonce more be prosperous, as in the owld ancient times, when theO'Briens and O'Connells cut each other's throats in peace, and harriedtheir respective neighbourhoods without interference. Captain Ricky, of Mount Hall, is exploiting the bog-ore, and sending it to England bythousands of tons. The stuff is an oxide of iron and is used forpurifying gas. The queerest feature of the use of bog-ore is the factthat when used up it is worth twenty-five per cent. More than before. Delivered to the gas companies at thirty shillings a ton, it fetchesforty shillings when the gas-men have done with it. It seems to becomposed of peat which by a few millions of years of saturation inwater containing iron has become like iron-rust. The soapstone ofKillygordon is used instead of fire-clay, and is also made into Frenchchalk. Or rather it might be, but that the Captain declines to proceedwith its extraction pending the Home Rule scare. There is much alderon the estate, which is watered by the river Finn. This is the rightwood for the manufacture of clogs for the people of Lancashire andYorkshire. Captain Ricky sends tons of these interesting articles tothe sister isle. Men are turning out these favourite instruments offeminine correction, in a rough state, by boat loads. When thecoster's done a-jumping on his mother, he should thank Ireland forhis clogs. When the festive miner rejoices, his dancing would lack thedistinguishing clatter which is its richest charm, without alder grownon the banks of the Donegal Finn. The countries were made to run inharness. One is the complement of the other. The brainy dwellers ofHibernia know this, and stick like limpets to England. Only thevisionary, the lazy, the ne'er-do weels, the incompetent, thedisorderly, the ignorant, the ambitious, want Home Rule. Thecontemners of law and order want to flourish and grow fat. The Healysand Sextons and all of that ilk know that while under an IrishParliament their country would be ruined, yet that they themselveswould pick up something in the general confusion, while Dillon, likeMrs. Gargery, could be ever on the rampage, carrying out his promisesof dire revenge, and flourishing like a young bay tree. Nobody hererejoiced when the bill was reported amended. They are losing faith inits merits. Their simple faith received a severe shock after thereturn to power of the Three-acres-and-a-Cow Government. Then theLabourers' Dwellings Act proved a fraud. The peasantry asked theneighbouring landowners for an acre of ground and a new cottage. Aneighbouring J. P. To-day told me that he had more than twentyapplications from people who are now awaiting the gold mines, thegreat factories which the new Irish Government are about to open. Ifyou would remain poor, vote for the Unionist candidate. If you wouldbecome rich beyond the dreams of avarice, if you would occupy theplace of the Protestant landlords, if you would preserve your immortalsoul from eternal flames, vote as instructed by Father Gilhooly. Apatriot priest yesterday said that the Day of Independence would bethe "Day of Ireland. " He should have called it the _Dies Iræ_. A Scottish Covenanter, not of the straitest sect, has no faith in theHome Rule Bill. He said:--"The people up in the mountains, those whowant Home Rule, or rather those who have voted for it and expect tobenefit by it, are all of the class no Act of Parliament would everhelp. They don't farm their land, and they don't want to farm it. Halfof it lies to waste every year, and they cut turf which they get fornothing, and sell it in the small towns about for three or fourshillings a load, instead of making the land produce all it will. Goto their houses at ten in the morning, and you will find them smokingover the fire. My people are up and at work by six o'clock everymorning in the week. The Scots farmers round Strabane are that keen ongetting on that you can't get them away from their work, which istheir pleasure. They are so keen on making the most of the ground thatthey are doing away with the hedges, and substituting barbed wire, merely to gain the difference in area of ground to till. Look at yonbrae-face. Every yard tilled right up to the top. The Papist peasantrywould never do that. You want to know what's the reason? Goodnessknows. All the Protestants round here have got on till they havefarms. There are no Protestant labourers. If English working men, agricultural fellows, would settle in Ireland, they would soon gettheir Three acres and a cow. The people who can and will do the bestwith the land ought to have it, that's my theory. Ireland everywhereillustrates the principle of the survival of the fittest. The only wayto succeed is by work. The Catholic Irish are so accustomed to leaveeverything to the priest that they have no self-reliance, and inworldly matters they always ask, who will help us? They are allbeggars by nature. The Duchess of Marlborough and other kind butmistaken ladies have pauperised some districts of Donegal. The peoplehave a natural indisposition to work, and a natural disposition tobeg. As for loyalty and tolerance, they have none of either. You neversaw industry without other virtues, you never saw laziness withoutother vices. These everlasting grumblers are a generation of vipers. They are a peevish and perverse set of lazy, skulking swindlers. Theycan pay. Every man could pay his rent and be comfortably off if heliked. The Protestant farmers pay and get along. And we agree that thelandlords favour the other sect. They know that we will do the rightthing, and they let us do it, but the Papists may do less--for lessthan the right thing is what the landlord expects from them. He thinkshimself lucky if his Papist tenants come anyway near the mark. Therefore I say, and any Protestant will say, the Papists are favouredby the landlords. " A staunch Conservative, though not a land-owner, said:--"We wantamendment of the Parliamentary voting regulations. No clergyman shouldbe allowed to sit in the Revision Court. Scandals without end could becited to show the necessity of this. I would, of course, exclude allsects, though no Protestant preacher ever takes part directly orindirectly in any of our political meetings. When a man has to makeoath as to the validity of his claim to the suffrage he will oftenlook at the priest who sits watching him. He gets a nod, and he goeson with his swearing. The perjury of the Irish Revision Courts issomething fearful, and no one pays any attention to it. The Papistsswear just anything. They get absolved, but a Protestant has not thisgreat advantage and that holds him back. That is the Papistexplanation. In my presence the Home Rule inspector of thisdistrict--we call the people who watch and work the registers theinspectors--swore that James Kelly, of Cross Roads, Killygordon, wasthe present tenant, the holder of the license, and the freeholder of apublic-house at the spot mentioned. Besides this he swore that thename James Kelly was on the signboard. He therefore proposed to poll aJames Kelly. Now the person in question went to America in 1888, andnever returned. His name was not on the signboard, and the license wasfor another person. The Judge declined to hear any further evidencefrom Inspector Francis McLaughlin. That was the only penalty enforced. Such things happen every day in Irish Revision Courts. "A man named James Burns put in a claim for a vote on behalf of landheld at Stroangebbah. He had none there. What he had was atAughkeely, and this was not sufficient to entitle him to vote. Yes, his name should be spelt Byrnes, but the Irish often prefer theProtestant form of the name. Well, nobody believed that he was thetenant of Stroangebbah; he was said to be a lodger only. The Judgeasked him for proof. He presented a paper purporting to be a receiptfor rent for Stroangebbah, but in reality the receipt was for theground at Aughkeely, which did not qualify. He curled up the paper soas to show that his name was on it, and the Judge instantly passed hisclaim, and placed him on the roll. A young fellow named Robert Ewingat once exposed the trick, but the Judge declared that having placedBurns on the roll, he must remain there until next revision. JudgeKeogh was his name. Yes, you would think an Irishman and a goodCatholic would have seen through such a trumpery trick. "When an illiterate declares for whom he will vote, we sometimes havefrom twenty to thirty outsiders in the polling-booth. In England theCourt is cleared, and even the policeman has to go outside. But inthis favoured country any blackguard who likes to fill up adeclaration of secrecy, and go before a magistrate, can be present atthe whole of the proceedings. There is no secrecy for the illiterates. Any corner-boy, any ruffian, any blackguard in the district can comein and hear for whom men vote. These corner boys all get declarationsin their fists, and they march in gangs from one booth to another. It's intimidation, no less. Get some M. P. To mention this as havingtaken place at Stranorlar. The people of whom I complain were not evenvoters. Anybody could be present. Ridiculous to talk of the ballot-boxin Ireland. "The Morley magistrates are in many cases a disgrace to the country. We used to have an idea in these parts that a small publican could notlegally sit on the Bench. James McGlinchy, J. P. , is a small publicanof Brockagh. Barring his trade, he's not so bad, as he can read andwrite. But if you saw the lists, and if you knew the menrecommended----! Englishmen have no idea what low scoundrels have beenplaced on the Bench in this country. Imperfect education we do not somuch mind when conjoined with character. O'Donnell is not a bad sort, but he couldn't write 'adjourned. ' Two magistrates were needed, andnobody else arrived. Therefore the difficult word was necessary, andO'Donnell felt it was beyond him. He called up a policeman, andordered him to do it. Whereat the county makes merry. There should bean education test. Can all the English magistrates spell 'adjourned'?You think so? That's very good. Not right that a man who can't spell'adjourned' should give another man a spell of imprisonment. " A Roman Catholic gentleman thus summed up the character of hisparticular neighbourhood:--"The upper classes of both sects are inevery way equal. Among the lower classes I observe that theProtestants do as much work as they can, while the Papists do aslittle as they can. This accounts for the difference in theirappearance and position. Then the Protestants are far better educated, and have arrived at the knowledge that everything that is good must begained by exertion, and that there is for them at least no substitute. The others talk as if after the establishment of an Irish Parliamentmoney would be found growing on the bushes. No one need try to changetheir opinion. When the time comes to vote they will vote as theirpriest tells them. Someone has said that the British Government mightsubsidise the Church, and so buy her off. It could not be done. Thebishops want power. I do not agree with them, and I do not support oradmit their claim to direct their flocks in political matters. " The Marquess of Conyngham, whom I met at Strabane, said:--"The peopleof Donegal are pleasant, kind, and civil. Taking them all round, theyare much more energetic than the Southerners, and we were making fairprogress until these Home Rule Bills were brought in. The country wasbeing opened up, and things were beginning to improve, when the billcame and blighted everything. Now the people are growing idle anddiscontented. They are all right when left alone. Everybody likes theDonegal peasants, and they deserve to be liked. Only leave them alone;that's what they want; and not Home Rule nor any other quackery. " Strange things continue to happen in Ireland. This does not refer tothe continuous cutting-off of cows' tails, the slitting of horses'tongues, and other similar expressions of impatience for the good timecoming, but to some strange things that have happened in connectionwith agricultural affairs. Sir Samuel Hayes decided to abandon a farmwhich would not pay, although he had no rent to meet. He was his ownlandlord, but he did not work the farm. That was done by a bailiff, who, curiously enough, was the highest bidder for the land. He of allmen should have known that if the farm would not pay expenses whenthere was no rent, it would not reward the man who had rent to pay. This reasoning proved fallacious. The farm which without rent proved aloss, in the same hands turned out when rent was charged a perfectgold-mine. In another case, a bailiff on leaving his employ expendedon land the accumulated savings of his thrifty years, and--strange tosay--his savings amounted to about three times the sum of his wagesduring his life's service. A man who, having a pound a week, can savethree pounds, would in England be regarded as a prodigy. In Irelandsuch things happen every day. Particulars as to the caseshereinbefore-mentioned can be obtained from anybody in Killygordon, which is altogether a remarkable place--to say nothing of its name, which for obvious reasons has the misfortune to be unpleasant to theGrand Old Man. _Nomen, Omen?_ An octogenarian J. P. Said:--"They talk of gold and silver mines, andlead and copper mines, and iron and quicksilver mines, but mining inIreland cannot, as a rule, be made to pay. Everything exists inIreland, but in such small quantities. The seams and veins are sosmall. Mr. Ritchie, of Belfast, spent several fortunes in mining forcoal, iron, and other things. There was iron at Ballyshannon, but whatwas the good? It cost less to bring iron to England from Algiers. Wehad no railway to Donegal, fifteen miles away, and cartage was tooexpensive. So far from Home Rule doing us any good, it would be acruel blow to the country, and especially to the poor. Employmentwould become very scarce, as everybody who had money invested inIreland would be in haste to realise and get it away. There would beno new enterprises, although the poor folk say, "We'll get employmentin big factories and mines. " Where's the money to come from? From theIrish Parliament, they say. And where will they get it from? Oh, aParliament always has money. All the money comes from Parliament, which, in fact, actually makes money. The English Parliament makes allthe goold sovereigns, and when the Irish Parliament commences tomanufacture goold sovereigns at Dublin, then Ireland must be rich. Didnot Mr. Gladstone say there would be too much money? Did not he saythat in Parliament? That's what the poorest and most ignorant peopleof Donegal say. The English Home Rulers, by their support of themovement are inflicting injury on the Irish poor. We want the countryopening up with railways. The tourist district is unequalled inEurope. Good hotels now, but you reach them mostly by cars. Balfourwas giving us rails. That one man in five years did more good toIreland than all other agencies operating for the previous fortyyears. I have thought the thing out, and I can speak for that periodwith certainty. Why could not they let him alone? The blackguards ofthese parts still shout 'Hell to Balfour. ' "Home Rule means to England a weakening, a loss of prestige, a new anda terrible danger. The _Independent_ says, 'When Ireland next fightsEngland she will not fight alone?' Very true. There is a stronganti-English feeling among the lower American classes, who are largelyIrish, who have votes, and by their votes can influence Americanpolicy. Let me point out the opinion of Lieutenant-Colonel Butler asrecorded in 'The Great Lone Land. ' Here it is:-- "You will be told that the hostility of the inhabitants of the UnitedStates is confined to one class, and that class, though numericallylarge, is politically insignificant. Do not believe it for oneinstant; the hostility to England is universal, it is more deep-rootedthan any other feeling, it is an instinct and not a reason, andconsequently possesses the dogged strength of unreasoning antipathy. Itell you, Mr. Bull, that were you pitted to-morrow against a race thathad not one idea in kindred with your own, were you fighting a deadlystruggle against a despotism the most galling on earth, were youengaged with an enemy whose grip was around your neck and whose footwas on your chest, that English-speaking cousin of yours over theAtlantic, whose language is your language, whose literature is yourliterature, whose civil code is begotten from your digests of law, would stir no hand, no foot, to save you, would gloat over youragony, would keep the ring while you were being knocked out of allsemblance of motion and power, and would not be very far distant whenthe moment came to hold a feast of eagles over your vast, disjointedlimbs. Make no mistake about it, and be not blinded by ties of kindredor belief. " And, further, "You will find them the firm friend of theRussian, because that Russian is likely to become your enemy in Herat, in Cabul, in Kashgar, in Constantinople. Nay, even should anywoman-killing Sepoy put you to sore strait by indiscriminate andruthless slaughter, he will be your cousin's friend for the simplereason that he is your enemy. " Without accepting the gallant Colonel'sdictum, it is as well to bear it in mind. A pensive youth in Ballybofey was deeply engaged with a scrap ofballad literature, not by any means without literary merit. For and inconsideration of a Saxon sixpence I became the proprietor of the lay, which is being circulated by thousands throughout Ireland. Those whouphold the reputation of their Irish allies for loyalty to the Queen, and friendship to the English nation, will, doubtless, find theirconvictions deepened and strengthened by the following sample versesaddressed to intending recruits:-- Ye whose spirits will not bow In peace to parish tyrants longer, Ye who wear the villain brow, And ye who pine in hopeless hunger, Fools, without the brave man's faith, All slaves and starvelings who are willing To sell yourselves to shame and death, Accept the fatal Saxon shilling. Ere you from your mountains go To feel the scourge of foreign fever, Swear to serve the faithless foe Who lures you from your land for ever, Swear henceforth its tools to be To slaughter trained by ceaseless drilling, Honour, home, and liberty Abandoned for a Saxon shilling. Go--to find 'mid crime and toil The doom to which such guilt is hurried, Go--to leave on Indian soil Your bones to bleach, accursed, unburied, Go--to crush the just and brave Whose wrongs with wrath the world are filling, Go--to slay each brother slave, Or spurn the blood-stained Saxon Shilling. Irish hearts! why should you bleed, To swell the tide of English glory? Aiding despots in their need, Who've changed our green so oft to gory? None save those who wish to see The noblest killed, the meanest killing, And true hearts severed from the free, Will take again the Saxon Shilling. The British soldier is the meanest killing the noblest. The poet'sname is Buggy. All this is very surprising. Painted by Paddy Mr. JohnBull, J. P. , will hardly recognise himself. Throughout the Nationalistliterature he is represented as a liar, a coward, a bully, ahypocrite, a tyrant, and a robber. If he now consented to be made theinstrument of persons whose ascertained opinions exactly harmonisewith those enunciated above, the epithets of Fool and Idiot willdoubtless be added to the list. And in this instance the evil speakerswould be quite right. _Quod demonstrandum est. _ Killygordon, July 29th. No. 55. --A TRULY PATRIOTIC PRIEST. The rhythmical rocking of the little engine of the West Donegal linerunning across from Killygordon seemed to say ceaselessly-- Here's a health to ye, Father O'Flynn, Slainthe (health), and slainthe, and slainthe agin-- Powerfullest pracher, an' tinderest tacher, An' kindliest crature in ould Donegal! Father O'Flynn must have been like a priest I met on Sunday, aLoyalist and a Conservative. Priests of the old school are becomingscarcer and scarcer every year, but one or two still exist. They donot "get on. " It is understood that their political attitude forbidspromotion. A priest who confesses to a respect for the Queen is notlikely to be acceptable to the multitude. A priest who believes thatthe British laws are just and equitable, and that things would bebetter remaining as they are, is looked upon as a _lusus naturæ_. Hesaid:--"I am a South of Ireland man, and was educated at Douai. I haveno sympathy with the great bulk of the Maynooth men, who are mostlypeasants and the sons of peasants. I do not think that the Maynoothcourse is sufficient in one generation to lift the sons to any greatintellectual height above the besotted ignorance of the parents. Ibelieve in heredity, and I say that most of my colleagues are onlyshaved labourers, stall-fed for three years. The low-bred men are nowthe dominant power. Instead of tranquillising the people, which I holdto be the duty of the clergy, they have done all they could to awakenand keep alive their most dangerous passions. And to rouse the Irish, especially the Southern Irish, is a matter of the greatest facility. Ihold that the clergy by degenerating into mere political agents arestrangely short-sighted. Their spiritual influence will in time bedangerously undermined, and in the long run they will take nothing bytheir motion. The Parnellite party will grow stronger and stronger, and the extreme party, the party of Revolution, which now lacks aleader, would on the passing of a Home Rule bill become the dominantpower. That is a great and salient factor of which up to the presentEnglish politicians have taken no account. The party of Revolution isthe party which under an Irish Parliament would be master of thesituation. Leaders will not be lacking. But at present the party mustfrom the necessity of the case be amorphous, and therefore, politically and as a power, practically non-existent. Pass the bill, and then you will see something. A new party, the party ofIndependence, or, as they will call it, of Freedom, will take shapeand formidably influence events. The temptation to take the lead willbe great. Independence and Separation will be a most popular cry. Thepresent men must either join the swim or be denounced as traitors, andas Healy cannot now visit Dundalk without two hundred policemen toprotect him, while William O'Brien was nearly torn to pieces atCork--would, in fact, have been murdered but for the police--you mayconceive what would be the state of things when we have aRevolutionary party and when the police were no longer under the fairand judicial control of the British Government. Pass the bill and lookout for the Revolutionary party. They will have an immense backing inpoint of numbers. And numbers rule in Ireland, not intelligence. Thebill will, of course, give nothing that the peasants expect. The faultwill assuredly lie with John Bull. The expectations of the ignorant, that is, the great mass of the people, will be woefully disappointed. Who is to blame? they will ask. Numbers of politicians are waiting totell them. Who but the brutal, greedy, selfish, perfidious Saxon? Anagitation will succeed, compared with which the worst times of theLand League were preferable. I shudder to think of the chaos, theseething and weltering confusion of the time to come. The Irishpeople, the poor ignorants, will suffer most. And yet they areinnocent in this matter. They have, indeed, been blamed with theexcesses of a few of their number, but they are, if left tothemselves, a most kindly and law-abiding people. The Donegal peasantsare the best in the country. You will see poverty, but the degradationof filthiness and laziness is not nearly so marked as in the South andWest, where the climate is warm, moist, enervating. "What, then, are my opinions, expressed in a concise form? I will tellyou. They are what _you_ would call sound. They are the opinions ofBalfour, of Lord Salisbury. I hold Mr. Balfour in profound esteem as awise and sagacious administrator, a terror to evil-doers, and anencourager of those who do well. I have a real affection for Mr. Balfour, as for a great benefactor of my beloved country. For I lovemy country so well that I feel the keenest personal interest in herwelfare. Perhaps I have a deeper affection for Ireland than even TimHealy or Sexton or Harcourt or O'Brien. What do I think of Gladstone?I think him a scourge of Ireland, a curse, a destroyer far worse thanOliver Cromwell. A heaven-born statesman? Do his followers call himthat? Well, I can only say that I hope and trust that heaven will notbe blessed with any further family. " A military officer resident in this region, an Irishman bred andborn, said, "It's all a matter of religion. I was the other dayreading Maxwell's account of the Irish rebellion of 1798, and Iobserved that although the Northern rebellion, which was the mostdangerous, as being the best organised, was mainly led by Protestants, yet in other parts of Ireland, when a suspected person was captured bythe rebels, the first question was, not are you in favour of the IrishRepublic, but what is your religion? And the Protestants generally hadtheir throats cut. The same thing would occur again, under similarcircumstances. Religion would be the test. If a general state oflawlessness should at any time arise, the Protestants in lonelydistricts would not be safe from murder. Yes, I _do_ say it, and Istick to it. A very large number of outrages have been committed whichwould not have taken place but for the religion of the offendingparty. It is a virtue to lie to a heretic, to cheat him, to damagehim, to keep him out of heaven if possible. Anybody who knows CatholicIreland would agree with this most heartily. They believe thatwhosoever killeth heretics doeth God service. "Irish folks are better than the people of other nations, and alsomuch worse. When they are good they are very good, and when they arebad they are very bad. They run to extremes in a way which cool-headedBritons do not understand. They are impulsive, and they jump toconclusions. Their great disadvantage is a crushing clericalinfluence. What's the use of thinking about anything when Father Patdoes it for them? What's the use of listening to argument when youmust in the end vote as Father Pat orders? "Englishmen have no idea what a splendid fellow the Irish peasantreally is when his mind is not poisoned and his unfortunate ignoranceexploited. I could give you instances of fidelity, affectionateself-sacrifice and devotion which would astonish you. Not isolated orsporadic cases, but arising from the average level of the Irishcharacter. After considerable travel, and a painstaking study of thecharacteristics of various nations, I have come to the conclusionthat, taking one consideration with another, I prefer Paddy, ignorantas he is. For after all his ignorance is not his own fault. He sees nonewspapers except an occasional local sheet, which is almost certainto be a wretched, lying, priest-inspired rag. If he were seen lookingat any other it would be bad for him. But newspapers are practicallyunknown in the agricultural districts. And men do not meet in crowdsas in England. They have not the attrition which wears away theangularities. They live solitary among the mountains, or away in thefields, and they never hear lectures, have no Institutes, get nochance of improvement. The priest is their Clan Chieftain, theirspiritual adviser, their temporal adviser, their newspaper, their onlychannel of superior information. " At this point a tall, red-beardedman who was passing touched his hat to the Colonel, who said, "Mygamekeeper. A fine, rough-coated Scotsman. Came over here a madGladstonian. Pinned his faith to the G. O. M. Followed him blindly, andowned he was content to do it. Get into conversation with him. Observethe change, the decided change in his opinions. " Soon I had Velveteens in full cry. His opinions were indeed decided. Having admitted that they had boxed the compass during a six months'residence in this down-trodden country, he went on to say, "The onlyway ye could cure the discontent is to make no attempt at it. Then theagitation would stop. The people are the biggest fules I ever saw. Instead of returning a sound, advanced Radical like Emerson T. Herdman, a man who pays them thirty or forty thousand a year, and whospends all his money in their midst, the fules go and vote for a thinglike Arthur O'Connor, who never was here but once, and who never didthem the compliment of issuing an address. When Mr. Herdman came toStranorlar the people stoned him and his friends. And yet nobody eversaid, or could say, a word against the Herdmans, who are among themost popular people in Ireland, and who deserve the best that can besaid of them. O'Connor costs these poor folks two hundred pounds ayear. They raise it in the constituency. Mr. Herdman would have costthem nothing, and might have spent even more than he does at present. He has opened up the greatest industry in the North-west of Ireland, keeps a whole country-side going, and is an out-and-out Liberal. Thegreatest exertions were made to secure his return, and the Catholicspromised to vote for him. He stumped the country, and left no stoneunturned. The Nationalist candidate never came here till the lastmoment, and, as I said, issued no address. The people knew nothing ofhim, and had never heard of him. But they voted as the priests toldthem, and they would have voted for a stick. Ought such people to havethe franchise? "What would I do to settle the Irish question? I've heard thatsomebody proposed sinking the country for twenty-four hours. Thatmight do. Or you could withdraw the police and military, and in everymarket town open a depôt for the gratuitous distribution of arms andammunition. In ten days there would only be a very small population, and you could then plant the country with people who would make thebest of it, and mind their work, instead of spending their timestanding about waiting for Home Rule to make them rich without work. Or you could make a law which required every priest in the country toclear out in twenty-four hours, on penalty of death. That is asimpossible as sinking the island, but it would be quite as sure acure. Those are my opinions, and those must be the opinions of everyman who has lived here and looked about him for a reasonable length oftime. The Scots Gladstonians are very decent folk. They mean well, andthey are friendly to Ireland. Their only fault lies in following theirhero, and in thinking that he cannot do wrong. If they knew what Iknow, they would be of my mind. For I was as great a Gladstonian asany of them. " A Presbyterian farmer said:--"On this estate the whole of the tenantsare Presbyterians. The agent told me that early in June the whole ofthe rents up to May were paid, and that he would think that there wasnot such another case in Ireland. How is that? Well, if the tenantshad been Romanists they would have so many things to pay. The priestslive like fighting cocks. Father McFadden, of Gweedore, makes from athousand to fifteen hundred a year. That is the man on whose door-stepInspector Martin was murdered. The crowd beat out his brains withpalings, and when he tried to get into the priest's house, the doorwas shut in his face. The clergy live well, and drink like troopers. The easiest job in Ireland, and--if your conscience would allowit--the best in every way. You are treated with great respect, youhave great influence, you have nothing to do, and you are extremelywell paid for it. Sometimes I think that humbug pays better than hardwork. The priests do _not_ look after the poor. They do _not_ workamong the destitute and ignorant after the fashion of the Englishclergy. They are always extracting, extracting, extracting. The poorare ground down by their exactions till they can't pay their rent. Andthat is why the agent said that probably no other estate in Irelandcould show such a record as ours. "Home Rule will not satisfy the people. An Irish Parliament will dothem no good, no, nor fifty Irish Parliaments. They are unfriendly toEngland because she is Protestant. People of the only true faithcannot bear to be governed by a heretic nation. The laws are allright, and they know it, but their animosity is excited by stories ofwrong-doing in their forefathers' days, and while on the one hand theyfeel that they might easily be better off, on the other they are toldthat the brutal Saxon keeps them poor. All this is done by thepriests. They actually admit that the English laws are excellent, butthen they fall back on the allegation that their administration iscorrupt. In vain you point to the Roman Catholic judges. In vain yougo over England's successive attempts to pacify Ireland byconciliatory measures. The priest ruins all, for while your friendseems to agree with you--they are so easily led--yet the priest willsecure his vote to a certainty. So long as a heretic power is at thehead, so long Ireland will be discontented. If the country were underthe rule of a Roman Catholic power, the people of Ireland would besatisfied with any laws whatever. They would not grumble at anything. The only alternative is the spread of education, and that goes on veryslowly in Ireland. We are very, very backward in Donegal, but notnearly so bad as in the south and west. We have a bad name for povertyand ignorance, but we do not deserve it in the same degree as theMunster and Connaught folks. We dislike the Connaught people just asmuch as you do in England. We hate dirt, and lawlessness and disorder, and therefore we claim to be superior to the rest of the poorcounties. This is, of course, the civilised part of Donegal. Butwherever you go, you see nothing like the dirt of counties Galway andMayo. "We want railways to open up the country. Balfour was building themfor us, and his institution of the Congested Districts Board didwonderful things for us. Why, if he had done nothing but improve thebreed of fowls he would still have been worthy of remembrance as abenefactor of this country. Before the Congested Board Committeeintroduced superior breeds of fowls, the chickens were likeblackbirds. You could sit down and eat half-a-dozen of them. They wereno bigger than your thumb. But now we can get fowls equal to anythingyou have in England. The same may be said of the horses, the pigs, thecows, and all kinds of domestic animals and poultry. The fishingindustry has saved whole districts from starvation, and has done goodall round. When we get an Irish Parliament the grants for all thesepurposes will be discontinued, and the tide of progress will bechecked. The poor folks are quite unable to see that by sticking toEngland we have a wealthy neighbour to borrow from, and that this isan inestimable advantage to a poor country like Ireland. Not long agoI mentioned this to a priest, but he said, 'When we have a Parliamentof our own we'll not need to borrow money, for we'll have more than weknow what to do with. Did not Mr. Gladstone say we should have achronic plethora of money? John Bull certainly sends some money overhere, but he had it from here to begin with. He stole it from Ireland, and he is only like a thief whose conscience urges him to restore aportion, a very small portion, of the stolen goods. When we getIndependence--he used the word Independence--we shall be in a positionto lend money instead of needing to borrow!' The person who said allthis is the most influential politician of this district. His word tohis flock is law. Not one of them dare for his life vote otherwisethan as he tells them. They do not think this a hardship. They have nopolitical convictions, and would just as soon vote any one way as anyother. " A Donegal Home Ruler said that the poor folks were quite right infollowing the priests, and wanted to know if they would be right infollowing the Tories. He said:--"They are no more ignorant than theBritish working men, and not less independent. Don't the workingclasses follow their leaders, voting in heaps, just as they are told, without any notion of the Empire's greatness, and entirely with a viewto their own interests? Could anybody be more stupid, more totallyincapable of giving a valid reason for his action than your vauntedBritish workman? Why, if the specimens we get over here are any guide, if the samples are anything like the bulk, you might as well poll aflock of sheep as a crowd of British working men. I say the Irishpeasantry are superior in intellect, conduct, and chayracther, andthat in following the priest they are acting as reasonable as yourBritish working-man, who follows his strike leaders and tradeagitators, and is perpetually cutting off his nose to spite his face. No, we shall not get Home Rule now, but we must have it later on. Thenwe shall demand more. Every time we have to ask we shall want moreand more. We shall wring it from England, and we shall make her payfor the trouble she gives. She must be charged a sort of warindemnity. " The Dundalk press is on my track. I heard of this in Newry, but theDundalk papers do not reach the next town to Dundalk, and not a sheetcould be had for love or money. A friend having told me that the_Gazette_ was reviled, great efforts were made to obtain the revilingprint, but in vain. At last I saw the _Dundalk Democrat_, which in atwo-column comment on its colleague's maledictions of your humblecommissioner cleared me of the charges brought by the originalthunderer, which I have not yet been able to see. One of the saidcharges is based on the statement that I asked to be allowed to bepresent at the meeting, which permission was readily accorded. Themeeting was public and was placarded from one end of Dundalk to theother. The public were invited to assemble in their thousands, and tojoin in the onward march to freedom. Not more than twenty peopleanswered to the call, and the meeting was therefore a dead failure. The idea of asking leave to be present at a public meeting is absurd. The vituperative print says that I was _not_ asked to deliver anaddress, but was told that I could "do so if I liked. " The truth ismanifest by the admitted fact that I declined, as being no speaker. Such is the minute hair-splitting of Irish argumentation. The quipsand cranks of Tipperary Humphreys will be remembered, the paltryquibbles by which he sought to establish a case, and his final retreatunder cover of the statement that he could not have believed that"such a state of things was possible. " The Dundalk marchers to freedom(to the number of twenty) were not precisely the pick of the localrespectability, and my escape must be regarded as providential. As totheir outpourings of abuse, my philosophy resembles that of the oldwhipper-in of the Meynell-Ingram Hounds:--"I bain't a cruel chap, Ibain't. But when I puts the lash among the hounds I _dew_ like to hear'em yowl; I _dew_ like to see 'em skip, and writhe, and look mad. Forif ye don't make 'em feel, and if ye can't hear 'em yowl, there'srailly no pleasure in thrashin' of 'em. " Donegal, August 1st. No. 56. --DO-NOTHING DONEGAL. Donegal improves on acquaintance. At first dull, dreary, anddisappointing, a more extended examination reveals much that isinteresting. The river Eske runs through the town, rippling over arocky bed of limestone like the Dee at Llangollen. Mountains arise onevery hand, some in the foreground, green and pleasant, backed bysterile ranges having serrated summits, dark and frowning. The harbourhas an old-world look, with its quaint fishing boats and groves oftrees running down to the water's edge. The land is decidedly humpy, and the sea meanders among the meadows in long fillets like troutbrooks, sometimes tapering off to narrow ditches over which you caneasily step at highest tide. The land is fertile, mostly grazing, andthe cattle are of large and superior breed. The country is wellwooded, and the hedgerows are tall and well-kept. The ancient abbey, like Mr. Gladstone's reputation, is in ruins. There is a ruined castleon the river bank, and on the other side, exactly opposite, aMethodist church, bearing the legend, ALL ARE WELCOME. The principal"square" is triangular, and has some good shops, which do most oftheir business on market-days. An enormous anchor, half embedded inthe mud of the harbour, was left there by the French fleet during "thethroubles of the ruction. " It is rather in the way, but threegenerations of Irishmen have not found time to remove it. "Likeourselves and our counthry it will stick in the mud until the end oftime, " said a native. There is much lounging at corners by men who areprobably waiting for the Home Rule Bill, but the people comparefavourably with those of the South and West. They have more grit, moreindustry, more perseverance. They are simple, civil, and obliging. They are also cleaner and more tidy than the Southerners, thoughdecidedly poorer. "They get no price for their produce, no reasonablewages for their industry. Their patience and contentment aresurprising, considering their circumstances. You can get work done fortwopence a day. The Southerners get thrice the money for their farmproduce. We have no ready means of getting things on the market. Ihave thirty tons of hay to sell, and nobody in the district would giveme a pound for it. " Thus spake one of the leading citizens, a RomanCatholic, dead against Home Rule. "The resident gentry are all we haveto depend upon. Once plant a Parliament in Dublin, and there will be ageneral exodus of the moneyed classes. Then the poor folks will havenobody to look to, and they must follow them to England--which willcertainly be overrun with destitute Irish. Things have grown worse andworse during the last ten years. Under a steady Government the countrywould gradually improve until the comfort of the people would give theagitators nothing to work upon. But with change upon change, with onefinal settlement upon another final settlement, we don't know where weare, nor what is going to happen next. How can we settle down to work?How can we launch out into industrial enterprises? Every man who hasanything holds his hand for fear of loss. An Irish Parliament would bea Parliament of confiscation, and nobody knows where they would drawthe line. Mr. Gladstone's land legislation has been a succession ofswindles. The principle of judicial rents is an atrocious violation ofthe principles of business, one of which lays down the dictum that athing is worth as much as it will fetch. Surely the landlord ought tobe allowed to accept the offer of the highest bidder. And if you takefrom him that right, and say to him you shall only accept such aprice, then you should at least guarantee the payment. But no, Mr. Gladstone says you shall only have a certain price, and you mustrecover the money as best you can. The judicial rent law, so muchvaunted, is not so good as it looks. It is often a premium onindolence and a punishment of industry, and therefore grossly unjust. Let me tell you how it works in Donegal. "Thirty years ago two men took contiguous farms of exactly the sameextent, at the same rent. There was not a pin to choose in the land, either. One of them worked continuously, improving the farm until healmost wrought himself to pieces. He and his children were at it nightand day, and their industry did wonders, as it always does. The otherwas a lazy fellow, who lay in bed till mid-day and spent half hiswaking hours at fairs and dances. The land in his occupationdeteriorated until it seemed to want reclaiming. The rent of bothfarms was ten pounds a year. The Land Commission had both cases beforethem, and, of course, based their estimate on the present value of theland, without reference to any other considerations. Now mark whathappened-- "The industrious man, who should have received a premium as abenefactor of his country, had his rent raised from ten pounds toeighteen. "The lazy man, who should have been kicked out of the country asworthless, and an enemy to progress, had his rent reduced from tenpounds to two pounds fifteen shillings. "The judicial reductions have hardly ever been of real benefit. Theaverage Irish peasant is so constituted that when he has less to payhe simply makes less effort, or spends the difference, and more thanthe difference, in extra whiskey. "The Donegal peasantry derive much benefit from the Irish practice ofcon-acre. Con-acre means that the land is rented for one crop. It paysthe landowner well, and he always gets his money. The man who has noland hires a piece for his potatoes, or for his oats, takes possessionwhen he puts in his seed, and delivers up possession when he gets hiscrop off the ground. They pay, I think, because they have not the landlong enough to long for it altogether. " I climbed the hill behind the Arran Hotel in company with theproprietor, Mr. Timony, who also runs several large shops in Donegal. The view is magnificent, extending in one direction to Carnowee andthe Blue Stack mountains, in another far over the wood-fringed bay, and southward to the Benbulben range, terminated by a steep descentlike the end of a house. Mr. Timony is a Romanist, but is stronglyopposed to Home Rule, which in his opinion would lead to endlesstrouble and confusion, and would, bring distress on the district, andnot prosperity. The hill was covered with mushrooms, which wererotting unregarded. Mine host confessed that he did not know theedible from the poisonous fungi, and said that the peasants of Donegalwere in the same case. "There are tons of these things on themountains, but no one gathers them. They would be afraid to go nearthem for fear they would drop down dead on the spot. " He showed me alarge stock of hand-woven cloth made by the peasantry, who, to theircredit, have mastered the process from beginning to end, and withtheir rude appliances produce a good-looking article, of which theonly fault is that it can never be worn out. Irishmen will not buy it, but England is an excellent customer, and the trade, already large, israpidly increasing. Good tweed, twenty-seven inches wide, may bebought in Donegal for a shilling a yard, and stout twills forone-and-sixpence. The people shear the wool, card it, spin it, dye theyarn made from herbs growing on the sea-shore, on the rocks, in themeadows, and weave it into cloth, which is much in vogue for shootingsuits and ladies' dresses. The pieces run from twenty to seventy yardslong, and whole families are engaged on the work, which commands aready sale at the wholesale depôts, the price being regulated by thefineness, evenness of texture, and equality of tint throughout. TheNationalist advice to burn everything English except English coals, isas hollow as other patriotic utterances. But for England the Donegalpeasantry would have no market for their goods. "It isn't fine enoughfor Irishmen, " said Mr. Timony. "They prefer English shoddy. They likethe smooth-looking cloth such as I have seen made in Yorkshire, manufactured out of rags. There's not ten pounds of wool in a thousandyards of it. It looks more eyeable, but there is no length nortoughness in the thread, which is made out of old worn-out cloth. Ourfolks couldn't spin it. They must use good new yarn, or they couldn'twork at all. The Yorkshire folks have machinery, and you can doanything with machinery. " A good old Methodist said:--"The English people ought now to realisethe pass their Grand Old Gagger has brought them to. The finestassembly of gentlemen in the world are bandying evil names andpunching each other's heads. Just what you might expect when the PrimeMinister has allied himself with blackguards and law-breakers. I usedto be one of his staunchest supporters, but I draw the line at lunacy. When I saw him truckling to low-bred adventurers who are not worthsixpence beyond what they can wring from their dupes, I thought ittime to change my course. When I saw the class of men with whom heacts and under whose orders he works, I changed my opinion of the man. For evil communications corrupt good manners, and a man is known bythe company he keeps. The whole session has been a degradation of theBritish Parliament. Things have been going from bad to worse until wehave reached the climax. If Mr. Gladstone remains in power we mustchange the qualifications of our members, and send the best fightingmen and the hardest hitters. We must heckle candidates as to their'science, ' and ascertain if their wind is good, and whether they areactive on their pins. And in course of time, if the G. O. M. Stillpresides, we shall have the Speaker acting as referee, and calling out'Time, gentlemen, Time!' Some Gladstonian or other will doubtlessaccept the post, and in that case we may expect him to sport a longchurchwarden and a glass of beer. That is what Mr. Gladstone isbringing on the House, and the tendency has been visible for a longtime. When you hear of people continually shouting 'Judas, Judas, 'without a word of protest from the Prime Minister, you must admit thatthe dignity of the House is a thing of the past. When you see thegeneral trend, you can judge what will be the result. When you see inwhich direction a man is going, you can judge where he will arrive atlast. "For my part, and I can speak for all my friends, we have the greatestconfidence in the English people's commonsense, and in the long run weknow it will not fail. The Scotsmen, who are honest politicians andkeen, are throwing over Mr. Gladstone and all his works, although hewas for so long their greatest pride. And we are sure that the fewEnglishmen who at the last election followed in his wake will seetheir error, and that they will joyfully seize the first opportunityof repairing their mistake. What would happen if the bill became law?Nothing but evil. The Methodists would leave these parts in a body. Wecould not remain with a Catholic Parliament in Dublin. We should notbe safe but for the English shield that covers us. The people, as awhole, are quiet enough--when left alone. But they are very excitable. Kind and civil as they may seem, they turn round in a moment. Theywill believe anything they are told, their credulity is wonderful, andtheir clergy have them entirely in their hands. The people might betolerant, but the clergy never. And Irish priests are very bitter andvery prejudiced. They say that we have bartered eternity for time, andthat, although we all thrive and do well, we have sold our souls forearthly prosperity. My mind is made up. Once that bill becomes law youmust find room for me in England. We shall be able to live in peace onthe other side of the Channel. " Another Methodist believed that the poverty of the people was somehowdue to their religion. He knew not precisely why this was the case, but his observations left him no other conclusion. He instancedStrabane, the Scots settlement over the border, and although inTyrone, yet only divided from Donegal by the river Mourne. "They haveat Strabane an annual agricultural and horticultural exhibition, whichdoes a great amount of good in educating the people. Last week theydistributed eight hundred pounds in prizes, and there were twothousand two hundred entries. We have talked about a similar show inDonegal, but we never do more than talk. We shall never have a showuntil we get a sufficient number of Scotsmen to organise it and workit up. The necessary energy for such a big affair seems to be theprivate property of people holding the Protestant faith, for when wesee an energetic Romanist we look upon it as something so remarkableas to merit investigation, and in nearly every case we find the personin question is, although Catholic, either Saxon or half-breed. Nearlyall the Papists are Kelts. Is their want of energy due to breed, toreligion, or to both? We hardly know. But I know a man's religion amile off, so to speak. Only let me see him at work in a field. Hisreligion comes out in his action. A Papist never works hard. He seemsto be always doing as little as ever he can. Then he's very muchsurprised to find himself so poor, when the hard-working Protestant isgetting on. Presently the Black-mouth gets a farm, while the otherremains a labourer. Then the agitator comes round and says, 'Look howheretic England favours Protestants. _You_ are the children of thesoil, but who has the farms?' 'Begorra, ' says Michael, 'an' that'sthrue, bedad it is now, ' and thenceforward he cherishes a secretanimosity against the successful man, instead of blaming his own wantof industry. That's human nature. So he votes for Home Rule, foranything that promises the land to himself, as the son of the soil. Helooks on the other man as an interloper, and his priest encouragesthat view. That is their feeling, as they themselves express it everyday, and are we to believe against the evidence of our senses thatwhen they have the power to injure us, to drive us out of the country, by making it too hot to hold us--are we to believe that they will notexert their power, but on the contrary, will treat us considerablybetter than before? That is what English Home Rulers ask us tobelieve. That is what Irish Nationalist speakers say in England: theywould be laughed at here. Do not trust these men. They are what theScripture calls 'movers of sedition'--and nothing better. " After some search I found a fine young Parnellite, who roundlydenounced the clergy of his own faith as enemies of their country. Hesaid:--"I _was_ a Home Ruler, but although I hold the same opinion intheory, I would not at this juncture put it into practice. I amconvinced that it would be bad for us. We are not ripe forself-government. We want years of training before we could governourselves with advantage. The South Meath election petition finallyconvinced me. When I saw how ignorance was used by the clergy for thefurtherance of their own ends, I decided that we were not yetsufficiently educated to be entrusted with power; and if Home Rulewere now offered to us, and the Home Rule that we ourselves haveadvocated, I for one would dread to accept it. We must serve anapprenticeship to the art of self-government. We must have a LocalGovernment Bill, and see how we get on. Then it can from time to timebe made larger and more liberal, entrusting us as we grow strongerwith heavier tasks. Give us Home Rule at this moment and you ruin us. We should have several factions, more intent on getting power and indamaging each other, than on solving all or any of the verycomplicated and difficult questions which would come before them. There would be no spirit of mutual accommodation such as prevails inEnglish assemblies. And our troubles would be your troubles. Keep itback for a few years, and lead us up to Home Rule by easy gradations. "My anti-Parnellite friends say they will not return the members nowrepresenting them. I believe they will. And if not, then they willsend others of no better social standing, and with no Parliamentarytraining at all. They will send worse men, extreme men, men who havenot pledged themselves to the British Government. The pledges ofDillon and Davitt--what are they worth? Surely nobody is so foolish asto rely on such 'safeguards' as these. "I am sure that three-fourths of the educated Catholics of Ireland areat this moment opposed to Home Rule in any shape or form, but--theydare not say so. Ireland is a land of tyranny, clerical tyranny. Ireland will not be free until the clergy withdraw their influencefrom politics. If they continue in their present course, there will bea reaction as education advances, and their last state will be worsethan the first. I know that some of them would gladly drop politics, but they have to look to their bishops. " A Nationalist tradesman said:--"The Protestants are favoured in everyway. Statistics recently given in the _Freeman_ show that the moneyannually paid to the favoured few, who hold appointments which oughtto be open to all, amount to five pounds a head for every Protestantman, woman, and child in the country. The same favouritism runsthrough everything. If a Catholic bids for a field of grass aProtestant bid is taken, even if lower. I saw it done yesterday. " My friend lost his temper when I asked him to say why the hereticfarmers were thriving while those of the true faith were starving, whythe heretics were clean while the others were dirty. He at last saidthat the British Government subsidised all Soupers out of the secretservice money, and making a contemptuous grimace, to express hisopinion of such miscreants, curled up his hand and passed it behindhis back, thus dramatically indicating the underhand way in which themoney is conveyed to the favoured recipients. These people _will_ believe anything. But who tells them this? And whydo not the clergy undeceive them? A final Black-mouth must be quoted. He said that the seller of thestanding grass preferred the heretical bid, although lower, "becausehe felt more sure of the money, " and pointing across the triangularsquare, yclept the Diamond, said:--"All those corner-men are HomeRulers. You never see a Unionist idling the day away atstreet-corners. We have no Protestant corner-boys in Donegal, noranywhere else, so far as I know. " The townsfolk are fairlyindustrious, that is, when compared with the people of Southern Irishtowns, but there is a residuum--a Home Rule residuum. It sometimeshappens that jaded men, worn out with overwork, are recommended to goto some quiet place and to do absolutely nothing. They can't donothing, they don't know how to begin. They should go to Donegal. Theplace is silent as the tomb, and if they would learn to do nothingthey will there find many eminent professors of the science, who, having devoted to it the study of a lifetime, have attained a virtuosoproficiency. Donegal, August 3rd. No. 57. --BAREFOOTED AND DILATORY. "The Ballyshannon foundered on the coast of Cariboo, And down infathoms many went the captain and his crew. Down went the owners, greedy men whom hope of gain allured. O, dry the starting tear, forthey were heavily insured. " And thereby hangs a tale. Professor Crawford, of Trinity College, Dublin, says that when walkingdown Regent Street, London, with William Allingham, then editor of_Fraser's Magazine_, and a native of this Donegal town, the pair metCharles Dickens, who advanced with beaming countenance, and takingboth Allingham's hands in his own, said in a hearty voice: "Well done, Ballyshannon!" This was in allusion to a recent article written by the _Fraser_editor, who among his intimate friends and brother litterateurs wasplayfully named after his birthplace. W. S. Gilbert was especially fondof the sonorous appellation, and in the above-quoted Bab Ballad, hisgem of gems, named the ship Ballyshannon in remembrance of Allingham. The Ballyshannon folks are "going to" erect a memorial to Allingham, of whose poems they have often heard. They are "going to" advertisetheir town, and make its beauties known to the world--some day. Theyare "going to" charter a steam dredger, and so improve the harbour, which is dangerous. They are "going to" utilise the enormouswater-power of the River Erne, which runs to waste from Lough Erne tothe sea. They are "going to" run a few tweed and blanket factorieswhen they see their way quite clearly. They are "going to" start afishery fleet and a number of fish-curing sheds, to give employment tothe poor folks of the district. They need almost everything that man_can_ need, and they have especial facilities for supplying needs, butas yet they have lacked time and opportunity. The town is only athousand years old, and its inhabitants have not yet had time to lookabout them. A number of English anglers stroll about with long salmonrods, or float their little barks on the broad bosom of the Erne, thepopulation looking dreamily on from the long bridge over the river, which, like the Shannon at Athlone, flows through the heart of thetown. Nobody seems to be doing anything, except a few old beggar womansqualid and frowsy as the mendicant hordes of Tuam, Tipperary, Limerick, and Galway. The beggars are pertinacious enough foranything, but theirs is the only enterprise the stranger sees. Compared with that of Donegal the salmon-fishing seems expensive. Thelandlord of the Arran Hotel in that town offers the Eske athalf-a-crown a day, but in Ballyshannon you must pay four pounds aweek and give up all the take except two. Salmon are scarce all overIreland this year. Three English fishers on the Erne shared theuniversal bad luck, for in three days they had only captured onefive-pounder. The unusual drought has made the water low. The weatherof the past five months has been finer and dryer than any season forsixty years. Ballyshannon looks dirty and dingy in any weather. Itlacks the smartness, the cleanliness, the width of thoroughfare, whichmark the heretic towns. It lacks the factories, the large shops, theshipping which would infallibly be to the fore if its inhabitants weremainly of Teuton origin. On the other hand, the Ballyshannon folks arereligious. They go to mass regularly, and confess themselves atfrequent intervals. The confessional box is their only place to spenda happy day, and the act of confession, with the following penance, their pleasantest mode of passing away the time. They are mostly HomeRulers, and are deferring special effort to better themselves untilthe Irish Parliament does away with the necessity. That blessedinstitution once fairly settled at College Green will spare them thepains of enterprise, and will show how large industries can be createdand sustained without capital, without business knowledge, withouttechnical skill, and for the sole purpose of affording the shiftlesspopulation of Ballyshannon regular wages at the week's end. Thegentlemen who lean over the quaint bridge, with its twelve arches andsharply-pointed buttresses, are merely waiting for the factories, which are to spring from the earth fully-equipped at a wave of theenchanter's hand, to be a blessing to the whole world while fulfillingtheir chief mission of finding employment for the people of Ireland. Meantime the Ballyshannoners are bitterly wroth with England becauseshe has not hurried up with the desired factories long ages ago. Theysmoke thick twist and expectorate into the river, talking moodily ofthe selfish Saxon, who instead of looking after them looks afterhimself, and praising Tim Healy, whose spare cash is invested in afactory in Scotland. Tim knows his countrymen; but, although hiscleverness is by them much admired, they do not know how really cleverhe is. If they could realise the fact that Tim declines to invest inIreland they might admire him still more. The great drawback to Irishenterprise lies in the fact that Irishmen who have brains enough tomake money have brains enough to invest it out of Ireland. They willnot trust Irishmen, nor will they rely on Irish industry. Ballyshannonis waiting for the impersonal Somebody or the shadowy Something thatis to come forward and put everything right. Galway is so waiting, Limerick is so waiting, Cork is so waiting, Westport, Newport, Donegalare so waiting. It never occurs to them to do something forthemselves. When the suggestion is made they become irate, andexcitedly ask, What could we do? How are we to begin? Where are we tofind the money? Who is to take the first step? They fail to see thatthe settlement towns have long since answered these queries, and thatthe capacity to do so marks the difference in the breeds. Thesehopeless, helpless, Keltic Irishmen are unfit for self-government. They require the india-rubber tube and the feeding-bottle. They wantto be spoon-fed and patted on the back when they choke. To instancethe Scots settlements is to madden them. These thriving communitiesare a standing reproach, and cannot be explained away. Saxon Strabaneflourishes, while Keltic Donegal declines, the latter having all theadvantages of the former with the addition of a harbour and goodfishing grounds. "Look at the condition of the country, " say the HomeRulers. "Behold the poverty of the peasantry, " they continually docry. The visible nakedness of the land is their chief and mosteffective argument. The Unionist answer is conclusive, and of itselfshould be enough to demolish the Nationalists. See the Protestantcommunities of Ireland, --all, without exception, advancing inprosperity. They have no advantages which are denied to theNationalists. On the contrary, they live in the comparatively bleakand unfertile North, which by their unceasing industry they havedeveloped to its fullest extent. They have tilled the ground until itresembles a garden, they have deepened the rivers, built harbours, created industries, been in every way successful. And all underprecisely the same laws, the same government. The richest spots ofIreland, if inhabited by Keltic Irish, are steeped in poverty. Thepoorest spots, if inhabited by men of Saxon blood, become fat andwell-liking. The fate of men lies mostly in themselves. This comes outforcibly in Ireland. Race, breed, heredity, call it what you will, inIreland thrusts its influence on you, whether you will or no. Neighbouring towns, neighbouring farms, neighbouring cottages, presenta series of striking contrasts, ever in favour of the Saxon, everagainst the Kelt. The latter has not yet discovered that the secretword, the open sesame of the difficulty, the charm which only can givepermanent comfort, is--Work. Nor has his race the spirit of mechanicalinvention or industrial enterprise, without which College GreenParliaments may sit in vain. The pure-blooded Kelt is easilydiscouraged, and no man sooner knows when he is beaten. More thanthis, he always expects to be beaten, so that he is beaten before hebegins. As a talker he is unequalled, and in this long-eared age, whenthe glibbest gabbler is reckoned the greatest man, his agitators havefloated to the front. The Ballyshannon people can talk with thevolubility of a Hebrew cheap Jack, but their jaw-power, like theirwater-power, mostly runs to waste. They have the silly suspicion andthe childish credulity of the Donegal rural districts. A fluentpolitician said, "Why are all the Protestants Unionists? Perfectlysimple, that. Because they are all well off. There you are. And beingwell off, they want no change. That's their selfishness. Now we, whoare not Protestants (thank God), are for the most part poor. Ourliving is precarious. We don't know where to look, nor what to do, toimprove our worldly position. We think it likely that an IrishParliament would do something for us. In what way? Why, in thedirection of public works and in the building of factories. Also inthe protection of Irish industries. Where would the money come from?Why, from England, to be sure. And if England wouldn't lend it, plentyof other nations would; America, for instance. We shall have heaps ofmoney. Mr. Gladstone has said it, and he is famous as a financier. There you have the reason why we want Home Rule, while the Protestantsdon't. They are well enough off already. "_Why_ are they well off, you ask? Also easy to answer. They have beenthe spoiled children of fortune. They have been petted and pampered byEngland for more than two hundred years. And although you will not ofcourse admit it, yet we know, everybody here knows, that they havebeen secretly subsidised by every Tory Government. If they pay theirrents, where do they get the money? From the Tory party. And Torylandlords give the best farms to Protestants, who having the pick ofthe land, ought to be well off. Wherever you go you will find theProtestants living on good land. " I submitted that authentic records show that Ulster was formerly themost sterile, barren, unpromising part of Ireland, and that the changewas entirely due to the two centuries of unremitting labour which theScots settlers and their descendants had bestowed on the land; but, waiving this point, I asked him why the Unionist, that is, theProtestant, party were so much better educated, and why the hereticswere so much cleaner. He had stated that the Black-mouths weresubsidised by the Tory Party. Did the British Government also supplythem with soap? At this point my friend's explanations became unintelligible, but hisgeneral drift seemed to indicate that the people were too downtrodden, too much oppressed, were groaning too painfully under the cruelBritish yoke, to have the spirit to look after the duties of thetoilet. In other words, the Irish people will wash themselves whenthey get Home Rule. At the next election Mr. Gladstone will doubtlessbring forward this aspect of the case as a sop to the soap-makinginterest. Another Ballyshannoner was of a diametrically opposite opinion. "Weare poor because we have no notion of making money by modern methods. We have always lived on the land, selling our superfluity to pay therent, and now that our arrangements are disturbed, we don't know whichway to turn. The blame rests with America, whose competition has solowered the price of produce that the farmer's superfluity, that is, what he does not consume himself, will no longer suffice to pay therent. That is a general statement only. Landlords are generallyreasonable, and meet their tenants fairly enough when the tenants arewell-disposed and honest. The tenant-farmers of Ireland have no moreto complain of than the tenant-farmers of England--much less infact--but they have an army of agitators, an ignorant English press, and the G. O. M. On their side. That makes all the difference. We haveoccasional cases of unfair landlordism, but they are so rare as to bethe talk of a county or two. "A Mrs. Hazlitt holds, with her farm, about twenty or thirty acres ofslobland reclaimed from the Atlantic. Slobland is land reclaimed fromthe sea. This piece is on Donegal Bay. It was protected by a greatdyke after the Dutch style. But the Atlantic is sometimes angry, andthen he becomes unmanageable. He was ill-tempered one night (beingtroubled with wind), and he just washed down the dyke and inundatedthe reclaimed meadows, upon, which I have seen the most beautifulcrops. The landlord, the Reverend James Hamilton, a Protestant rector, insists on rent being paid for this washed-away land. He does notrebuild the dyke, and the land lies waste--the widow paying rent foracres of useless salt marsh. That is pointed to by all the malcontentsin Donegal as a specimen of landlordism, and Protestant landlordism, and more especially reverend Protestant landlordism. Nobody but aparson would exact the rent. These isolated examples are cited tobring discredit on Protestant landlords in general. "This town is asleep, and it will not awake till the last Judgment. In1885 we had a manufacturer from Belfast looking about for the bestplace for a big cloth mill on the river. The town was in a ferment ofexcitement, and everybody began to wonder what he would do with hisadditional income. The shop-keepers expected that their customerswould have twice the money to spend in future, and the working folksbegan to be cocky with their employers, saying that they would getmuch better wages at the great factory. Then Mr. Gladstone brought outhis '86 bill, and the Belfast man drew in his horns. He told me thathe would not risk a farthing in any speculative venture while thethreat of Home Rule was held over us. He was quite right. TheBallyshannon men were relieved from the trouble of deciding how theywould spend their surplus money, and they ranged themselves on thebridge or at their usual corners, where you may now see them, proppingup the old houses with their lazy backs, and discussing the wrongs ofIreland. What they would do without their supposed, wrongs nobodyknows. In English hands this would be a money-making place. We haveenormous advantages of situation, and the water power is almostunequalled in Ireland. Yet from here to Belleek, a distance of fourmiles, there is nothing whatever being done with it. "The backwardness of the Irish and their poverty are, in my opinion, due to their inferiority as a race of men. Wherever there is afactory, you will find all the foremen Protestants--that is, Saxons. And Irishmen expect it. They will not work under Irish foremen, ifthey can help it. The Catholic labourer will work for the Protestantfarmer, for choice, every time. The Catholic housekeeper goes to theProtestant shop, by preference. Where their own personal and earthlyinterests are concerned, the Papist population always prefer theguidance of the cursed heretic. And yet they express for theBlack-mouths the greatest contempt and aversion, and would willinglyput them out of the country to-morrow. That is because they wish topossess our goods. They vote for Home Rule in the belief that they arepaving the way for a dismissal of Protestants, and the division oftheir property. They do not know the name of the man who representsthem, the title of the Parliamentary division for which he sits, oreven, in many cases, the name of the county in which they themselvesreside. To talk reason to such people would be absurd. Trained fromtheir infancy to regard England as an enemy, they would not listen toanyone speaking on her behalf. They declare that they are barefootbecause England wears their shoes, that they are starving that Englandmay be over-fed. The how, the why, the wherefore are not within theirken, but they are sure of the facts. They had them from Father Dick, Tom, or Harry, and the holy man would not tell a lie. Stupid peopleover the Channel, listening to this iterated complaint, are acting asthough it were true. Gladstone took it up, and his followers followed. No doubt it was all that most of them could do. Result, --tumult, disturbance, confusion worse confounded. Home Rule means that thecountry will be deluged with blood, that civilisation will receive ashock which will send back the island for a century. The causes ofIreland's poverty are laziness and lack of enterprise, the latteraccentuated by everlasting disturbance. Before the Nationalists we hadthe Fenians, the Whiteboys, the Ribbon-men, the United Irishmen, theDefenders, the goodness-knows-what, running back in continuous line upto the dawn of history. No wonder we are poor. Cannot Gladstoniansread the records? If they did so, and if they were acquainted with thecharacter of the Irish when in their native land, they would agreewith my cook, herself a Kelt of Kelts, who says that Irishmen areleather, good leather, but fit only for the sole, and not for theuppers. "I used to regard Mr. Gladstone as an honest man. Now I thinkotherwise. As for the ruck that follow him--well, if they wereintelligent when honest, or honest when intelligent, nobody couldunderstand their deviation from the path of reason and rectitude. Butthe rogues will of course do anything they think will suit them best, no matter what befalls their country; and as for the rest, why ofcourse no reasonable man would blame people for not thinking, whenProvidence has not provided them with the requisite machinery. " Ballyshannon, August 5th. No. 58. --THE TRUTH ABOUT BUNDORAN. There is no railway between Donegal and Ballyshannon, fifteen milesaway. The largest town in the county is not connected with theprincipal port. But you can steam from Ballyshannon to Bundoran, thefavourite watering-place of Donegal, quaint and romantic, with a deepbay and grassy cliffs. The bathing-grounds have a smooth floor oflimestone, and the Atlantic rolls in majestically, sending aloftcolumns of white spray as its waters strike the outlying islands ofrock, each with a green crown of vegetation. The bare-headed andbare-legged natives walk side by side with the fashionably-dressedcitizens of Dublin, Belfast, and Londonderry. The poorest folks aretolerably clean, and, unlike the Southerners, occasionally wash theirfeet. The town is small, but there is plenty of good accommodation forholiday makers. Bundoran is Catholic and intolerant. Althoughdepending on their Protestant countrymen for nine-tenths of theirlivelihood, the people of Bundoran object to Protestantism, and theintensity of their antipathy to the Black-mouths has impelled them toquarrel with their bread-and-butter. Of late the question of tolerancehas been much discussed. Sapient persons whose assumption is equal totheir ignorance of the subject, affect to despise the fears of thescattered Protestant population whose alarm is based on the experienceof a lifetime. English Home Rulers who wish to create effectunblushingly affirm that the Protestants are the only intolerants, andthat the Papists are as distinguished for affectionate toleration asfor industry and honesty. In direct opposition to daily experience andthe evidence of history, they assert that the Papists are thepersecuted party, and that they only practise their religion with fearand trembling. Notwithstanding the well-known doctrine of the RomanChurch, which preserves heaven exclusively for those within its ownpale, these eccentric politicians aver that under a Roman CatholicParliament, elected by the clergy alone, the isolated Protestants ofCatholic Ireland, known in the Papist vernacular as Black-faces, Black-mouths, Heretics, Soupers, and Jumpers, would be treated withperfect consideration, would enjoy the fullest freedom, the mostindulgent toleration, would, in short, be placed in a position ofequality with the predestined inhabitants of Paradise, or, to quoteCatechism, the inheritors of the Kingdom of Heaven. The persons mostnearly concerned know better. The shrewd farmers of Ulster, like thePuritan brethren of Leinster, Munster, and Connaught, are entirelydevoid of faith in the promised Papist toleration. Protestant equalityunder a Home Rule Parliament! You might as well tell them to plantpotatoes and expect therefrom a crop of oats. Men do not gather grapesoff thorns nor figs off thistles. The Bundoran Protestants have evidence to offer. The date is recent. Not two hundred years ago, but in the year of graceeighteen-hundred-and-ninety-three. Seeing that the little seasideresort was full of holiday-makers from the Protestant counties ofFermanagh and Tyrone, two young Protestant clergymen determined to holdGospel services in a tent which was pitched in a field the property ofMr. James A. Hamilton, J. P. For about a week beforehand handbillsannouncing the services for July 21 had been distributed in the townand suburbs, but no controversial topic was mentioned, nor was itintended that the services should be other than strictly evangelical. The tent was erected solely to accommodate the great influx ofvisitors, after the manner so familiar in England. Here was a test ofPapal toleration. The tent was on private ground, and if Papists didnot like it they could easily keep away, making a wry face and spittingout the abomination as they passed, after their liberal custom. This, however, was not enough. No sooner had the handbills been issued, thana most scurrilous placard appeared, calculated to inflame the passionsof the ignorant, and to make them act after their kind. The Gospellerswere accused of an attempt to poach on the Papal preserves, and it wasmockingly stated that they had at last come to Christianise thebenighted Papists. The effect of this placard was soon evident. Itbecame known that the Roman Catholics of the district had determinedthat they would allow no Gospel services in Bundoran. The policeauthorities, who know all about Papist "tolerance, " increased the smallvillage force to twenty-five men, but, as the result proved, these wereabsolutely useless. A mob of more than a thousand pious ruffiansgathered early in the evening, and attacked in a brutal and mercilessmanner every person they suspected of being on the way to the meeting. The two Evangelists went to the tent under the escort of thetwenty-five policemen, but before they could commence the service theapostles of toleration made a desperate rush on the congregation, mostof whom were struck with bludgeons and stones, knocked down, kicked, and otherwise maltreated. The constabulary with great determination, but with much difficulty, protected the two young clergymen, upon whoma most venomous attack was made. The Protestants defended themselveswith umbrellas, walking-sticks, and the like, but being stronglycharged these proved of little avail against the wild onslaught of theparty of toleration. Well may the local paper say that "a regular panicpervades the resident and visiting Protestant families. " Mr. Morley, replying to a question in the House, said the reports wereexaggerated. The hapless Irish Secretary, unable to meet this andsimilar charges with denial, always relies on the plea of"exaggeration. " The statement given above is derived fromeye-witnesses of both creeds, and from an official source. One word asto the plea of exaggeration. When I had investigated the fifteen moonlighting atrocities of fourweeks in County Limerick, the County Inspector, who had just returnedfrom a conference with Mr. Morley, said to me:-- "Everything is ve-ry quiet. We're going on very nicely now. " But the_Gazette_ gave particulars of the shooting in the legs of the fourmembers of the Quirke family, and Mr. Morley was obliged to admit thefifteen outrages which constituted County Inspector Moriarty's idea of"quiet. " Subordinates will say there is peace when there is no peace, if the master requires it. The Bundoran outrage is not susceptible ofexaggeration. Call another witness. The _Sligo Independent_, which being published on the spot can speakwith authority, says that "the intolerant and bigoted Roman Catholicsof Bundoran and surrounding districts look upon Protestantism as akind of leprosy which ought at all hazards to be stamped out, " andfurther states that "even the ladies did not escape their fanaticalhatred and fury. Several people were severely injured, and a clergymanwho was coming to the meeting with his Bible in his hand, was throwndown and badly beaten, the Book being torn from him and destroyed. What may Protestants expect should the Home Rule Bill ever become law, when such disgraceful outbursts of religious bigotry are quite commonunder the existing _régime_? The natural conclusion is that all suchGospel meetings would be put down with a strong hand, and Protestantreligious liberty trampled under foot by their unscrupulous RomanCatholic fellow-countrymen. And yet Loyalists are told to trust inthem and all will be well!" Thus the Sligo journal; and its editor mayperhaps, under the circumstances, be pardoned for suggesting that "itwere better for Loyalists not to put themselves in the power of menwho have proved themselves unfit even to associate with civilisedbeings. Bundoran will feel the evil effects of these insane attacksupon defenceless people next season when tourists and pleasure-seekerswill avoid this seat of stupid bigotry, and visit some other summerresort where they will at least be allowed to worship their Makeraccording to their own desires. " Exactly. Many visitors left at once, and will never return. During my six hours' stay I heard complaints ofthe falling-off of business. If the place be empty next summer thepeople will attribute the loss to the British Government, andespecially to the machinations of the Tory party. An old fishermansaid the fish had left the bay. I assured him they would return undera Dublin Parliament. He refused to be comforted, because they werenot. There is no railway from Bundoran to Sligo, that is, no directrailway. The great lines mostly run from east to west, but the westlacks connecting links. Look at the map of Ireland. Cast your eye onthe west coast. If you would go by rail from Westport to Sligo, youmust first go east to Mullingar. If you would go by rail from Sligo toBundoran, you must first go east to Enniskillen. If from Bundoran toDonegal, less than twenty miles, you must again go to Enniskillen, thence to Strabane, where you arrive after the best part of a day'sjourney, ten miles further away than when you started, thence toStranorlar, changing there to the narrow-gauge railway for your finaltrip. Travelling on the west coast is tedious and expensive, whetheryou go round by rail or drive direct. Many of the most attractivetourist districts are almost inaccessible. To open them up is toenrich the neighbourhood. Few Englishmen know what the Balfourrailways really mean. The following statement gives particularsrespecting the Light Railways authorised by the Salisbury Government, and constructed either wholly or in part by the nation. Theserailways introduce tourists to those parts of Ireland which are bestworth visiting, and the economy of time, money, and muscular tissueeffected by them would be hard to overestimate. But this is not all, nor was this their primary purpose. They gave and still giveemployment to the people of the district, and besides bringing themoney of the tourists into the country, enable the natives to sendtheir produce out of it, to place it on the market, to turn it intogold. There is no railway from Dugort, in Achil, to any market. Fishcaught in Blacksod Bay are therefore worth nothing except as food forthe fisherman's family. Large crabs were offered to me for onehalfpenny each. Does this fact impress the usefulness of Balfour'srailways? Here they are complete:-- Length in Balfour's Name. Miles. Contribution. Donegal and Killybegs 17-3/4 £115, 000 Stranorlar and Glenties 24-1/2 116, 000 On this line you run for twelve miles from Stranorlar without seeing asingle cottage. There are none within sight on either side. Downpatrick and Ardglass 7-1/4 £30, 000 Galway and Clifden 50 264, 000 This will run in connection with the splendid system of the Midlandand Western Railway, opening up the grand scenery of Connemara, whichto the average Britisher is like a new world. No end of fishing hereamong virgin shoals of trout and salmon, and nearly always fornothing. It was along the first sixteen miles of this line, stillunopened, that I ran on the engine to Oughterard. Westport to Mulranney 18-1/4 £131, 400 To which is added the Achil Island extension 8-1/4 65, 000 This will enable travellers to steam from Dublin to Achil Island viâMidland and Western, instead of the ten hours on an open car, which ontheir arrival at Westport now awaits visitors to Dugort. It was onthis line that I had the startling adventures on a fiery untamed bogeyengine, lent to the _Gazette_ by Mr. Robert Worthington, of Dublin. But I must condense. Claremorris and Collooney 47 £150, 000 Ballina and Killala 6-1/2 44, 000 Bantry extension 2 15, 000 Baltimore extension 8 56, 700 West Kerry and Valentia 27 85, 000 Headford and Kenmare 20 50, 000 Milltown, Malbay, Kilkee, and Kilrush 26 2% on 120, 000 Tuam and Claremorris 17 2 " 97, 000 Ballinrobe and Claremorris 12 2 " 71, 664 Besides these, similar lines have been constructed, and are nowworking between Tralee, Dingle, and Castlegregory; Skibbereen andSkull; Ballinscarty, Timoleague, and Courtmacsherry. The Cork andMuskerry Railway, which runs through the groves of Blarney, owes itscompletion and success to Mr. Balfour's administration. Driving from Bray to the Dargle, my jarvey pointed to the ruins of alight railway undertaken without the aid of the British intellect. "'Tis a nice mess they made iv it, the quarrelin' pack o' consatedeejits! They must run a chape little thing to the Dargle, about twomiles away, along the roadside, just as Balfour showed them the way. What have they done? Desthroyed the road. Lost all the money theycould raise. Got the maker to take back the rails (for they boughtthim afore they wanted thim), an' the only thing they now have in theshape of shareholders' property is a lawsuit wid the Wicklow folksabout desthroyin' the road. Faix, an iligant dividend is that same. An' them's the chaps that's to rule the counthry. That's the sort ofthim, I mane. Many's the time I seen the Irish mimbers. Sorra a thingcan they do, barrin' dhrink an' talk. I wouldn't thrust one of thim torub down a horse, nor wid a bottle of poteen. Divil a one of thim butwould dhrink as much whiskey as would wash down a car, an' if theycould run as fast as they can talk, begorra, ye might hunt hares widthim. Rule the counthry, would ye. Whe-w-w-w!" He whistled with a"dying fall, " like the strain in _Twelfth Night_. I drove from Bundoran to Sligo, the sea on the right, the Benbulbenmountains on the left, singularly shaped but splendid. The roundtowers and ancient Irish crosses, the lakes and rivers of Sligo, arefull of interest and beauty. The Abbey ruins are exceptionally fine. The town is fairly well built, but it is easy to realise that oncemore it is Connaught. During a turn round Bridge Street, a countrycart heaves alongside, steered by a stalwart man in hodden gray. Henotes the stranger, and politely says, "Can I be of any use? I see you are a visitor. " We fell into conversation. Presently I said, "Everything will be wellwhen you get Home Rule. " He stopped the cart and protested against this statement. UnknowinglyI had tapped a celebrity. My hodden-gray friend was none other thanthe famous Detective James Magee, who arrested James Stephens, theNumber One, the Head Centre of the Irish Revolutionary Brotherhood;also John O'Leary, editor of the Fenian _Irish People_, of whichO'Donovan Rossa was business manager. O'Leary was a doctor hailingfrom Tipperary. He asked Magee if he might have his "night-cap, " andhis captor allowed him to call for the whiskey at a well-known Dublinresort, on parole of honour. Later, as a crowded street was reached, O'Leary said, "There are three thousand of my friends there. If you gothat way I cannot save you. Better try a back street. " "That washandsome, " said Mr. Magee. "O'Leary was a gentleman. Stephens was onlya 'blower. '" My friend was unalterably set against Home Rule, which heregards as an empty, foolish cry. Being a pensioner he wishes to bereticent, but his opinion is pronounced, and the Sligo people know it. He has a high opinion of the law-abiding instincts of his compatriots, and believes that "if they were left to themselves" the districtwould need no police. "A better-hearted, kinder, more obliging peoplenever lived, " said this excellent judge, who after twenty-seven yearsof police service, returned to end his days among them. And my shortexperience of the Sligo folks confirms this statement. They were notall so reserved as Detective-sergeant Magee. A thriving shopkeepersaid:--"The majority, if you count noses, are for Home Rule, but ifyou count only brains and intelligence you would find an overwhelmingmajority against it. Mr. Gladstone and his set of blockheads seemquite impervious to reason, and even the constituencies of Englandseem to lack information. The reason is plain. While we have beenminding our work the Nationalists have been agitating. For thirteenyears they have been on the stump, and have stolen a march on us andthey take a lot of catching up. We allowed them to empty theirwind-bags, forgetting that the English people were not so conversantwith the facts or with the character of the orators as we are. Wethought that no precautions were required, and that their preposterousstatements would be received in England as intelligent, enlightenedpeople would receive them here. Their strength in Ireland is almostentirely among the illiterates, who in the polling booths are coercedby their priests. I have seen a man crying because he had not beenallowed to vote for the candidate supported by his employer. Such aridiculous thing could not happen in England, and Englishmen who donot know Ireland and the Irish will scarcely credit it. This shows howunable most Saxons are to understand Irish character and motive. "All our civilisation is from England, all our progress, all ourenlightenment, and nearly all our money. As a poor, helpless, semi-barbaric country, we ought to cleave to England with all ourmight and main. A more and more complete and perfect unity is our besthope. To ask for separation is the wildest absurdity. And just as wewere beginning to go along smoothly! That was entirely due to the justbut firm administration of the Balfour period. "Among Irishmen justice with firmness is always appreciated in thelong run. An Irish Secretary needs the hand of iron in the velvetglove. Paddy spots the philanthropic fumbler in a moment, and useshim, laughing the while at what he rightly calls his 'philandering. 'Morley means well, but nobody here respects him. He knows no more ofIrish character than a blind bull-pup. His master in my opinion isworse, if possible. He is deaf to all the arguments of Irish sense andIrish culture, and proposes to finally resolve the unresolvable, tosettle the Irish difficulty by a Catholic Parliament. As well go outwith a net to catch the wind. He listens to the representatives ofruffianism, counting them first. We kept silent too long. We thoughtthe donkeys might bray for ever without shaking down the stars. Wewere wrong. Now we are almost powerless. For what are a handful ofreasonable men against a crowd of blackguards with big sticks?" While conversing with Detective Magee, that astute gentleman pointedout The O'Connor, lineal King of Connaught, and a staunch Unionist! Adevout Catholic and intensely Irish, yet the uncrowned King is aloyalist. But The O'Connor is a man of superior understanding. Afterthis I saw three Home Rulers--yea, I conversed with four, one apositive person whom I mistook for a farm labourer, but who proved tobe a National schoolmaster who absorbed whiskey like the desert sands. A decent farmer who thought the Land League the finest thing in thewuruld, complained that while the British Government have contractedfor hay at £8 15s. , yet he and his friends could only get £3 for "bestsaved. " His idea of Home Rule was--No Rent to pay. A ferociouscommercial traveller, whose jaw and cheekbones were as much too largeas his eyes and forehead were too small, wanted to know "what righthad England to rule Ireland? Ye have no more right to rule Irelandthan to rule France. " This was his only idea. He was a patriot of thesentimental type, and wished that Ireland might take her place as anindependent nation with Belgium, Switzerland, Holland. His hero wasPaddy O'Donnell, of Bedlam--_clarum et venerabile nomen_--who for fivedays held his house, since called the Fort, against a strong force ofpolice. "If all was like O'Donnell, we'd soon have the counthry toourselves, " said my commercial friend. "An' if ye don't let us go, we'll make ye wish ye did. Wait till ye get into throuble with France. The Siam business may yet turn up thrumps. " He was very voluble, veryloud, very illiterate, and I declined to discuss the question exceptin Irish, which he did not speak. Like most of the patriot orators ofIreland, he was as ignorant of his native language as of his nativeliterature, and every other. This is the class from whom the politicalspeakers who infest country places are drawn. At first sight they seemunworthy of notice, but contempt may be pushed too far. Even waspsbecome dangerous when in swarms. And Hatred is like fire: it makeseven light rubbish deadly. Sligo, August 8th. No. 59. --IRISH NATIONALISM IS NOT PATRIOTISM. My tour through Ireland having now come to an end, I propose to sum upthe conclusions I have formed in this and the three followingarticles. In connection with the Home Rule Bill, we have heard much ofthe "aspirations of a people. " Mr. Gladstone has taken up the cry, andhis subservient followers at once brought their speeches and facialexpressions into harmony with the selected sentiment. Theseanti-English Englishmen would fain pose as persons in advance of theirtime, determined to do justice though the heavens should fall. Theyagree with Mr. Labouchere that John Bull is a tyrant, a robber, and ahypocrite, and that it is high time justice should be done to Ireland. As no substantial injustice exists, it is necessary to fall back onsentiment, and to quote the "aspirations of a people. " The desire fora system of Irish autonomy is praised as a manifestation of patriotismwhich in all ages of the world has been honoured by worthy men. TheEnglish supporters of Mr. Gladstone, with their assumption of superiorvirtue, their Pharasaic We are not as other men, nor even as theseTories, would have us believe that with the granting of self-ruleIreland will be satisfied, that the gratification of a laudablesentiment is all that is now required to bind together the peoples inan infrangible Union of Hearts, and that peace and prosperity will atonce follow in the wake of this merely sentimental concession. The great mass of the Irish electorate know nothing of all this. Tapthem wherever you will, north, south, east, or west, and you find onedominant thought--that of pecuniary gain. They know nothing of theproposed bill, and are totally incapable of comprehending its scopeand effect. The peasantry of Ireland are actuated by motives entirelydifferent from those affecting the rural constituencies of England. The Briton is proud of his country, believes in its might, justice, supremacy; and despite occasional grumbling is satisfied that thepowers that be will do him right in the long run. The Irish peasant isessentially inimical to England. He is always "agin theGovernment"--that is, the rule of England. He regards the landlord astrebly an enemy--firstly as a heretic, secondly as the representativeof British rule, and last, but by no means least, as the person towhom rent is due. He desires to abolish the landlord, not in theinterests of religion--I speak now of the peasantry, and not theclergy--and not in the interests of patriotism, for if a DublinParliament were to cost him sixpence, the priests themselves couldhardly drag him to the poll; but purely and simply to avoid anyfurther payment of what he regards as the accursed impost on the land. Phillip Fahy, the leading light of Carnaun, near Athenry, is exactlytypical of rural Irish Patriotism. "Did ye hear of the Home Rule Bill?What does it mane, at all, at all? Not one o' us knows more than thatlump o' stone ye sit on. Will it give us the land for nothin', forthat's all we hear? We'll be obliged av ye could explain it a thrifle, for sorra one but's bad off, an' Father O'Baithershin says 'Howld yerwhist, ' says he 'till ye see what'll happen, ' says he. Will we get thebit o' ground widout rint, yer honner's glory?" Mr. Tynan, of Monivea, said that his landlord was liberal and good, and admitted that hisland was not too highly rented, but, said he, "We have no objection todo better still. " The run on the Irish Post Office Savings Banks atonce illustrates the patriotism of the people and their confidence inthe proposed Dublin Parliament. It was well known and understood, sofar as the poorer classes are capable of understanding anything, thatthe floating balance of the Post Office Banks would constitute theonly working capital of the Irish Legislature. Here was anopportunity for self-sacrifice. Here was a chance of manifesting thefaith animating the lovers of their country. But at the same time itwas made known that the Post Office would pass from the Britishcontrol to that of the Irish people's chosen representatives. It mighthave been supposed that the electors would rejoice thereat withexceeding great joy, and that in order to show their trust in an IrishParliament they would increase their deposits, and at considerablepersonal inconvenience refrain from withdrawals. Nothing of the kind. The "aspirations of a people" were at once strongly defined, but thistime not in the direction of patriotism. It availed not to urge uponthem the argument that the four millions of the Post Office SavingsBanks were absolutely necessary to the successful administration of anIrish Parliament. In patriotic Dublin the run on the Post Office wastremendous. The master of a small sub-office told me that thewithdrawals over his counter had for some time amounted to £200 perweek, and that they were increasing to £70 per day. There was notenough gold in Dublin to meet the demands, and cash was beingforwarded from London. The patriots who had no money deposited in thePost Office made no secret of their indignation, stigmatising theirfellow-countrymen as recreants and traitors, but without perceptibleeffect. The Dublin Savings Bank became the trusted depositary of themoney. This institution is managed by an association of Dublinmerchants, not for profit, but for the encouragement of thrift, andthe confidence reposed in them was doubtless due to the fact that thedirectors, on the introduction of the Home Rule Bill, had publiclyannounced their intention, on the bill becoming law, to pay twentyshillings in the pound and at once to close the bank. The patriotdepositors were not deterred by this announcement, nor by thedirectors' letter to Mr. Gladstone, in which they declared that theirdetermination to wind up the affairs of the bank was due to the factthat in the interest of their depositors they felt themselves unableto accept the security of an Irish Legislature. Patriotism wouldsurely have resented this imputation. But Nationalism in its presentphase is nothing more than selfish cupidity and lust of gain. This ismade abundantly manifest by the freely-uttered sentiments of allclasses of the Nationalist party. The first answer I received to aninquiry as to what advantages would be derived from a patriotParliament was elicited from an ancient Dubliner, whose extraordinarycredulity was equal to anything afterwards met with in the ruraldistricts:--"The millions an' millions that John Bull dhrags out ivus, to kape up his grandeur, an' to pay sojers to grind us down, we'llput into our own pockets, av you plaze. " The complaint about theBritish Government veto on Irish mining, which I fondly believed to besporadic, proved to be chronic, universal. Here again the notion ofeasily acquired wealth was the impulse, and not the pure andself-denying influence of patriotism. "The British Government won'tallow us to work the gold mines in the Wicklow mountains. Whin we getthe bill every man can take a shpade, an', begorra! can dig what hewants. The Phaynix Park is all cram-full o' coal that the Castle folkswon't allow us to dig, bad scran to them! Whin we get the bill we'llsink them mines an' send the Castle to blazes. " The coal under thePhoenix Park is a matter of pious belief with every back-slumDubliner. The gold of the Wicklow mountains is proverbial all overIreland. There is not a nobleman's demesne that does not cover untoldwealth in some shape or form. It may be gold, silver, copper, lead, oronly coal or iron. But it is there, and the people of theneighbourhood want an Irish Parliament in order that the treasures maybe turned into money. The more intelligent Nationalists foster thesebeliefs, although they know them to be without foundation. They knowthat the treasures do not exist in paying quantities, and also that ifthey did exist their fellow-countrymen are too lazy to dig them up. The Nationalist orators never rely on patriotic sentiment. Theypromise the land for nothing. Mr. William O'Brien has unceasinglyoffered as a bribe the promise of prairie rents for the farmers, butTim Healy went one better when at Limerick he said that "The people ofthis country never ought to be satisfied so long as a single penny ofrent is paid for a sod of land in the whole of Ireland. " Well mightSir George Trevelyan say that Irish agitators have done much todemoralise the country, and that in many parts of Ireland they gainedtheir livelihood by criminal agitation. The same authority tells usthat "an Irish Parliament will be independent of the Parliament ofthis country, but will be dependent on the votes of the small farmers, who have been taught that rent is robbery. " That is a precisestatement of the position so far as the agricultural voters areconcerned. Their patriotism is nothing more nor less than a sure andcertain hope of pecuniary advantage. The green flag of Ireland has nocharms for them. The ancient glories of Hibernia are sung to them invain. They care not for the Onward march to Freedom. They will make nosacrifices on the shrine of their country. The subscriptions furnishedby the Irish peasantry for the furtherance of the cause amount toalmost nothing, although extorted partly by compulsion and partly bythe hope of future profit. The following facts will show howspontaneous is their patriotism. At a Sunday meeting at Gurteen in1887, the Very Reverend Canon O'Donohoe in the chair, it was resolved, "That a collection for the defence of Messrs. Dillon and O'Brien bemade during the ensuing week in this locality, and that not less thansixpence be accepted from any person. _Anyone not subscribing will beconsidered not in sympathy with the Branch. _" Those only who knowIreland well will be able to appreciate the terrible significance ofthe last sentence of this resolution, which for the information of thepeasantry was made public in the Nationalist _Sligo Champion_. Asimilar incentive to patriotism seems to have been required by theKilshelan Branch, for at another Sunday Meeting, the Reverend FatherDunphy in the chair, it was unanimously resolved, "That all memberswho do not pay in subscriptions on or before the next meeting, whichwill be held on the last Sunday of this month, shall have their namespublished and posted on the chapel gate for two consecutive Sundays. "This quotation is from the _Munster Express_, published in Limerick. At a meeting reported by the _Kerry Sentinel_ "the conduct of severalmembers, who had not renewed their subscriptions, was stronglycondemned, the reverend president, Father T. Enright, giving orders tohave a list, with their names, sent to him before the next meeting. "The chapel doors are used as instruments of boycotting. The priestsits in judgment on all who are not sufficiently patriotic. The peopleare compelled to subscribe to the cause, whether they like it or not. These cases could be multiplied to infinity. They not only give anexcellent illustration of the conduct of the Irish clergy in politicalaffairs, but they also furnish a curious commentary on the enthusiasmwhich is supposed to mark the Aspirations of a People, who, as Mr. Gladstone might say are "rightly struggling to be free. " I haveconversed with hundreds of Irish farmers and I never yet met one whowas willing to sacrifice a sixpence on "the altar of his country, " orto trust an Irish Parliament with his own property, or to invest apenny on purely Irish security. He loves his ease, no man likes itbetter, and No Rent means less exertion. Mr. O'Doherty, of CountyDonegal, a Catholic Home Ruler, said the landlords were all right nowunder compulsion, but what the tenantry demanded was to be releasedentirely from the landlords' yoke. The farmers, he said, cared nothingfor Home Rule, but the Nationalists had preached prairie value, andthe people expected to drive out the landowners and Protestants. Mr. John Cook, of Londonderry, a Protestant Home Ruler and a man ofculture, did not claim patriotism for the Nationalists, andunconsciously put his finger on the real incentive when he said:--"Thelandlords will be wronged under the present bill. It is a bad bill, anunjust bill, and will do more harm than good. England should have avoice in fixing the price of the land, for if the matter be left tothe Irish Parliament gross injustice will be done. The tenants werebuying their land, aided by the English loans, for they found thattheir two-and-three-quarter per cent. Interest came lower than theirrent. But they have quite ceased to buy, because they expect the IrishLegislature to give them even better terms--or even to get the landfor nothing. " Patriotism had meanwhile received another sop. Mr. Healyadvised the farmers to think twice before they bought their land, andhinted that their patience was likely to be well rewarded. Father J. Corcoran at Mullahoran, when consulted by a body of tenant farmerswhose landlord offered to sell, distinctly advised them not topurchase, and gave a practical instruction on the subject, in which heendeavoured to prove that seventeen or eighteen years' purchase was atpresent unworthy of consideration, and advising the greatest cautionin buying at all under present circumstances. The farmers' conceptionof Nationalism is plunder and confiscation. They vote for Home Rulebecause they thereby expect to make money, to become freeholders, landlords themselves, in short. They are taught that they have aninherent right to the land, and that an Irish Parliament will restorethem their own. Father B. O'Hagan, addressing a meeting in companywith William O'Brien, said:--"We have two classes of landlords, inbrief. We have the royal scoundrels who took the land of ourforefathers. I ask any of those noble ruffians to show me the title bywhich they lay claim to the soil of my ancestors. Then we have thelandlords who have purchased their estates in the Land Courts. Butthey bought stolen goods, and they knew that the land was stolen. Wemust get rid of the landlords. " Paddy is perfectly safe. The landlordswho claim in descent and those who buy in the open market are equallydenounced. Let him support the Nationalist party, and the land becomeshis own. He does so, and his motive is by the unthinking calledpatriotism and by Mr. Gladstone the Aspirations of a People. There are of course other classes of Nationalists, but in comparisonwith the immense preponderance of rural voters they do not count formuch. Mr. McGregor, of Anglesea Street, Dublin, once an earnestGladstonian, said:--"The corner-men are Home Rulers because they wantto spend what they never earned, and the farmers because they hope toget the land for nothing. " The Dublin hotel-keepers are mostly HomeRulers, and the proprietor of Jury's, next door to the proposed Housein College Green, is supposed to be consumed with patriotic fire. Thehotel has recently been refitted. The Dublin shopkeepers, "those ofthe largest size, " are strangely lacking in patriotism, and mostlysupport the Union. Patriotism is claimed for the Nationalist members, who, according to Nationalist sheets, were lifted from bog-holes, tripe shops, and small whiskey shops to decide the destinies ofempires, to revel in comparative luxury, to enjoy a certain socialdistinction, to exchange their native bogs for the British metropolis, and to draw a salary beyond their wildest dreams. These questionablegentlemen, with the horse's tongue and cow's tail cutters, thefirebrand priests and landlord-shooters, the moonlight marauders whoshoot old women and children in the legs, burn the haystacks of theirneighbours, refuse coffins and decent burial for the dead, apply thefiendish tortures of boycotting to innocent women and children, refusing them the means of subsistence, and poisoning their watersupply with human filth--these _are_ patriots. Only their patriotismmust cost them nothing, It must be cultivated at the expense ofothers. The patriots subscribe only under compulsion, and yet hope tomake a profit by the transaction. As of a certain party of old, it maybe said of them, "License they mean when they cry Liberty. " Plunderthey mean when they cry Patriotism. The sober and industrious portionof the Irish people, the pick of every part of Ireland, being opposedto Nationalism, are denied the virtue of patriotism. The merchants andmanufacturers of Dublin and Belfast, the leading professional men ofIreland, the most learned scholars of her great University, her greatsoldiers, White, Wolseley, Roberts, her greatest living authors, thewhole of her Protestant clergy of whatever sect, with theircongregations, the pith and marrow of everything that is strong, stable, cultured, enlightened, prescient, must be pronouncedunpatriotic--if Nationalism is Patriotism. Contrary to all humanexperience and to the course and constitution of nature, the people ofEngland are asked to believe that love of their native land and desireto do the best for the commonweal, are the sole possession of theignorant and rowdy classes of Irishmen, and notwithstanding theundeniable fact that Nationalist Irishmen of every colour accuse theNationalist members of self-seeking, and of absolute indifference toeverything: outside their own interests, we are asked to give to themexclusively the honour due to men who sacrifice all for their countryand care for nothing but her welfare. Gladstonians themselves, in thedeepest depths of their credulity, cannot in their hearts believe inNationalist patriotism, except, perhaps, such as that of Mr. Kelly, ofAthenry, who said, "I'm a Home Ruler out and out. The counthry'swithin a stone-throw of hell, and we may as well be in it altogether. " Birmingham, August 11th. No. 60. --LAND HUNGER: ITS CAUSE, EFFECT, AND REMEDY. That Irish Nationalism is not Patriotism has been demonstrated by anappeal to admitted facts. The farmers hope to be relieved from paymentof rent, the labourers hope to be employed in the mining of treasureat remunerative wages, the agitators hope for place and power, andeveryone who has nothing hopes in the general confusion to make offwith something. There is, in short, a shrewd popular notion that thefoundering of the British ship of state would yield good wreckage. Thefalse lights have done excellent service. Dillon, Davitt, O'Brien. Healy, and the rest of the would-be wreckers are shivering withexcitement at the prospect of the crash which they fondly believe tobe imminent. The helmsman is under their orders--will he be heavedoverboard before he has done his work? If so, farewell to hope ofplunder, farewell to hope of religions domination, to freehold farmsfor nothing, to gold mines, to every hope that made life pleasant, toall the fatuous beliefs that are the basis of Irish Nationalism. Ithas been shown that "patriotic" subscriptions could only be raised bythreats, that the names of non-subscribers were posted on chapelgates, that resolutions fixing the minimum were passed, with a riderto the effect that persons not subscribing would be considered "out ofsympathy, " and that this fund was for the defence of the patriotsDillon and O'Brien, who afterwards ran away. The rush of the "patriot"depositors on the Post Office Savings Banks so soon as it was knownthat in the event of Home Rule the floating balance would constitutethe working capital of the new Parliament, and would therefore be inthe hands of brother "patriots, " has been adduced as a fair measure ofpatriotic sincerity, and endless minor examples might have been given. We might have mentioned Delany, the principal clothier and outfitterof intensely patriotic Limerick, who had not a yard of Irish tweed inhis stores; or the Dungannon folks, who think foul scorn of their owncoal, and persist in buying the English product at double the cost; orMr. Timony, of "patriotic Donegal, " might have been quoted. "Irishmen, " said the great draper, "will not wear Donegal tweed. Butfor England we should have no market at all. " The patriots will not"part. " "I'm sorry for you, " said the kind old lady. "_How much_ areyou sorry?" said the tramp. Tried by this test, Irish patriotism comesout very small. If "patriot" members had to live on the voluntaryofferings of their constituencies, the trade would expire ofinanition. The members would return to their bogs, their tripe shops, their shebeens, and patriotism would become a lost art. Irishmen willapplaud with enthusiasm. They like a red-hot patriotic speech. But, like the crowd listening to the harp and fiddle at the street corner, they begin to shuffle off when the bag comes round. Irish land hunger is easy to understand and simple to define. The bulkof the population are agricultural, and closely wedded to custom. Their fathers lived on the land and by the land, and they expect to dolikewise. _Sæva paupertas, et avitus apto cum lare fundus. _ Theirideas of existence are inseparably connected with the land. Whateverknowledge they have relates to the land. Their farming skill is verylimited; indeed, it may almost be said that they have none beyond thatpossessed by savages--but it is their only possession. They have noturn for mechanics. The rural Irishman is uneducated, and knows littlebeyond what he sees around him. So far as his experience goes, to bewithout land is to be without the one means of livelihood. The Englishsmall farmer is differently situated. If farming will not pay he hasother resources. He can migrate to fifty towns having factories orgreat public works. And besides this, the Saxon is not crippled by anignorant conservatism and a congenital inability to adapt himself tochanged circumstances. Paddy is content with little, if he have hisease. He loves to put in the seed and then to sit down and wait forthe crop, varying the proceedings with fairs and festive gatherings. Such is his conception of life. The ding-dong regularity of factorywork does not suit him, so he clings to the land, which provides himwith a bare subsistence, and that is all he wants. No ambition to bemore luxurious than his father troubles him at all. Short spells ofwork, and long spells of play, are ensured to the fortunate holder ofland. This is Paddy's conception of Paradise. Suppose the land heldwere at first sufficient to maintain his family. The boys grow up, and, according to custom, the paternal farm is divided, in the nextgeneration again subdivided, until at last the amount of landremaining to each family is insufficient for its maintenance. Then thedistrict becomes congested. The poverty of the people is attributed tothe landlords, who are denounced as non-resident, notwithstanding thedemonstrations of an affectionate tenantry, who now and then shoot oneor two, _pour encourarger les autres_. If the people have food theyhave little or no money. The agitator comes and promises No Rent, theopening of gold mines and mighty factories, paying liberal wages, under the fostering wing of an Irish Parliament. The people areignorant and credulous. They are, however, certain as to their ownpoverty, and they desire a change. The Roman Catholics regardthemselves as the chosen people, the true sons of the soil, but theysee that most of the great landowners are Protestant, that theProtestant farmers often hold uncommonly good land, and that if thesewere once dispossessed the righteous might again flourish as green baytrees. For while Papal Ireland is largely rock and bog, the hereticalportion is reclaimed and tilled, the bogs drained, the primevalboulders rolled away, broken up, and made into fences. All this istempting. Irish land hunger is foreshadowed in the story of Naboth andhis vineyard. And Irish land hunger is largely responsible for Irish rents. Friendsand neighbours--aye, even relatives near as brothers and sisters, compete against each other, and eagerly force up the price. EveryIrish land agent will tell you of underhand intrigue in connectionwith land. Not only do brothers secretly strive to obtain advantageover each other by means of higher bidding, but bribery is tried. Mr. Robert Hare, of the Dublin Board of Works, said:--"My father was anagent, and on one occasion he was weighing the respective claims oftwo brothers to a piece of land which was about to become vacant andperhaps considering their respective offers, when one sent him aten-pound note. He cut it in two and returned one-half, with anintimation that on receiving a receipt he would forward the other. " Inever met anyone in Ireland who would not readily admit that highrents were mainly due to the action of the tenants themselves, who, being actuated by what is called land-hunger, which is nothing more inthe majority of cases than the necessity to live, had in theirdesperation bid more than the land was worth. Mr. Thomas Manley, ofTrim, County Meath, said:--"The tenant farmer has cried himself up, and the Nationalists have cried him up as the finest, mostindustrious, most self-sacrificing fellow in the world. But he isn't. Not a bit of it. The landlords and their agents have over and overagain been shot for rack-renting when the rents had been forced up bysecret competition among neighbours and even relations. Ask anyliving Irish farmer if I am right, and he will say, Yes, ten timesyes. " As an Irish farmer and the son of an Irish farmer, living forsixty years on Irish farms, and from his occupation as a horse-dealer, claiming to have an intimate acquaintance with the whole of Ireland, and with almost every farmer who can breed and rear a horse, Mr. Manley is worth a hearing. Continuing, in the presence of severalintelligent Irishmen, some of them Home Rulers, but all agreeing withthe speaker, Mr. Manley said:--"Rents have been forced up by peoplegoing behind each other's backs and offering more and more, in theireagerness to acquire the holding outbidding each other. Landlords arehuman; agents, if possible, still more human. They handed over theland to the highest bidder. What more natural? The farmers offeredmore than the land could pay. But why curse the landlords for what wastheir own deliberate act?" Mr. Manley's knowledge of England enabledhim to say that "the Irish farmer is much better off than the English, Scotch, or Welsh farmer, not only in the matter of law, but also inthe matter of soil. " The legal point is demonstrable. Let us see howthe Irish tenant stands. The disinclination of the Irish for factorywork, as exemplified in the closing of the Galway jute factory, because of irregularity of attendance, and the refusal of the starvingpeasantry of congested Donegal and Connemara to accept regularemployment in the thread factory of Dunbar, MacMaster and Co. , notwithstanding the most tempting inducements, as set forth in myletters from Ireland, has strangled enterprise, except in the North. The ceaseless agitation of the revolutionary party has given rise to afeeling of insecurity which deters capitalists from investing money inIreland. And it is only fair to say that a large majority of the mostintelligent men of every political colour concur in attributing muchof the poverty of Ireland to unrestricted Free Trade. Thus a varietyof causes have created land hunger, with its resulting land clamour, which has brought about extraordinary legislation--extraordinarybecause going far beyond the principles recognised by RepublicanAmerica, which in the first article of its Constitution draws the linethus:--"_No State shall pass any law impairing the obligation ofcontracts. _" Well might Lord Salisbury, in extending the Land PurchaseAct, carefully dissociate the Conservative party from the principle ofinterference with free contract in the open market. In England a thingis worth what it will fetch. It is not so in Ireland. A tenant can never be evicted unless a whole year's rent is due. Thelandlord might want the land for himself or for his son, but he cannothave it. The tenant must have six months' notice of eviction, and whenactually evicted can recover possession by paying what he owes, and inthat case the landlord becomes liable to the tenant for the crops onthe land, and for the profits he (the landlord) _might_ have made. InAmerica the length of notice preceding eviction varies from three daysto thirty, the latter only in the State of Maine. Yet in Ireland, wherewe hear so much of brutal evictions, six months' notice is required, ayear's rent being due, this boon having been conferred by a "Coercion"Government. An Irish tenant even when voluntarily leaving his farm mustbe compensated by the landlord for all improvements made by himself orhis predecessors, or must be permitted to sell his improvements to theincoming tenant. The tenant-right of a small farm is sometimes asurprising sum. The moonlighting case I investigated at Newcastlewest, Co. Limerick, arose from a tenant-right transaction, William Quirkehaving bid £590 for the tenant-right of forty-nine acres formerly heldby J. Dore who was selling, as against £400 bid by Dore's cousin. Quirke and three of his family were therefore shot in the legs, by wayof impressing the advisability of joining in the Onward march toFreedom. But although the tenant is settled on the land for ever, and, so long as he owes less than a year's rent, cannot be molested, it mustnot be supposed that the rent he agreed to is unchangeable. Suppose thetenant to be paying a judicial rent, which is decided by three persons, one of them a lawyer, the other two acting respectively in theinterests of landlord and tenant, having examined and valued the farm. Assume that the tenant gets more than a year behindhand. The landlorddesires to evict. Even then the tenant, by applying for another "FairRent, " can stay eviction. But while the rent may be lowered, thelandlord can never raise it under any circumstances. The law isdecidely one-sided. Leases may be broken. All leaseholders whose leaseswould expire within ninety-nine years after the passing of the Land Actof 1887 may go to Court, have their contracts broken, and a judicialrent fixed. No countervailing advantage is given to the landlords. Whena tenant's valuation does not exceed £50, the Court before whichproceedings are being taken for the recovery of any debt, whether forbeef, bread, groceries, clothes, or whiskey, is empowered to stayeviction, can allow the debtor to pay by instalments, and can extendthe time for such payment without limit. To the average British mindthis will smack of over-legislation, and serious Irishmen make the samecomplaint. And still, to quote Father Mahony, of Cork, "still the Irishpeasant mourns, still groans beneath the cruel English yoke. " The factis, he is almost killed with kindness. He is weighed down by themultitude of benefactions. He reminds you of the tame sparrow you oncesuffocated by overfeeding. So much has been done for him that henaturally expects more, and instead of being grateful he grumbles morethan ever. He regards Mr. Gladstone as having acted under compulsion, and as being an opportunist. The peasantry of Ireland have no respectfor the Grand Old Man. "Shure, we bate the bills out iv him. Shure, henever gave us anythin' till we kicked it out iv his skin. Divil thankhim for doin' what we ordhered him to do. " But perhaps the Tory Land Purchase Acts are most promising in, thedirection of finality. Lord Ashbourne's Act, as it was called (1885), conferred on Irish tenants opportunities of purchasing their holdingsof quite an exceptional kind, and its scope and advantages wereenormously increased under the Land Purchase Act passed in 1891. If atenant wishes to buy his holding and arranges with his landlord as toterms, he can change his position from an ordinary rentpayer into thatof a payer of an annuity, terminable in forty-nine years, and actuallyless in amount than the rent! Most Irish landlords are willing to takeless than twenty years' purchase, but the tenants are by their leadersadvised not to buy. Otherwise the Government is prepared to advancethe necessary purchase money, to be repaid at the rate of four percent. Per annum, which covers both principal and interest. Suppose thetenant's rent to be £50, and that he agreed to buy at the seventeenyears' purchase so strongly discountenanced by the priest quoted in mylast. His rent or rather the annual payment substituted for rent, would amount to £34, being a reduction of thirty-two per cent. If hebought at fifteen years' purchase, rent £50, he would only pay £30 ayear, a reduction of forty per cent. If he bought at twenty years, rent £50, he would have £40 a year to pay, being a reduction of twentyper cent. In forty-nine years the holding would belong to him, or tohis children. In any case he must largely benefit. His rent is lower, his share in the ownership is always becoming larger, and, if hechooses, he can at any time sell his interest in the concern. Mr. Palmer, of Tuam, said that those who had purchased under this Act werehappy and prosperous. Lord Shannon's tenants bought at twelve years'purchase. In other words they exchanged their rent for one-half theamount, payable to Government, the land to be their own in forty-nineyears. Lord Lansdowne's tenants agreed to buy at eighteen years'purchase, all arrears to be forgiven on payment of half a year's rent. These buyers are quiet and apparently contented. Their payments areregular, and if they were left alone they would doubtless continue inthe path of rectitude. But the agitators, who find nick-names foreverything, have already begun to call this repayment ofpurchase-money a Tribute to England; and the past history of Irishleaders leads honest Irishmen, as well as Englishmen, to theconviction that, once an Irish Parliament were established, with anIrish constabulary under its rule, a No Tribute campaign would ensue, which would lead to deplorable results. The privileges of Irishtenants are far more numerous than I have space to indicate, butperhaps enough has been said to give a clear idea of the chief causesand effects of land hunger in Ireland. The remedy, in the opinion of many advanced and enlightened HomeRulers, must come from a Tory Government. From the multitude ofcounsellors I met in the thirty-two counties of Ireland, I will selecttwo who represent the vast majority of able men of every politicalparty. Mr. Thomas Manley said:--"Settle the land question, reform thePoor Laws and the Grand Jury laws, and reclaim the land, which wouldpay ten per cent. " Mr. Mason, of Mullingar, said:--"The wholeagitation would be knocked on the head by the introduction of asevere land measure. Previous legislation has been very severe, and Ido not say that a further measure would be just and equitable. Imerely say that the people do not want Home Rule, but that they wantthe advantages which they are told will accrue from Home Rule. " And sosaid everyone. To settle the land question is to settle everything. Religiousanimosity would be silenced by self-interest. The operation of theLand Purchase Act has undoubtedly done much to turn the people usingits provisions into good Conservatives--law-abiding andlaw-supporting, as having a stake in the country. The people have notthe land for nothing but they look forward to its becoming honestlytheir own, and meanwhile they enjoy the security insured by theGovernment of England. In any attempt to settle this great problem, aConservative Government would probably be largely supported by thelandlords themselves, while the rank and file of Ireland would lookwith respect and confidence on any bill bearing the honoured name ofBalfour. But how shall we decide the scope and character of such afinal Land Bill? I do not hesitate to say that it must contain a verystrong infusion of the compulsory element. The great measure of 1891is generous to a fault, but it is voluntary, and the result is thatthe tenants who give greatest trouble--the poor, idle, ignorant dupesof a scheming priesthood and a corrupt political conspiracy--nevercome under its benefits, because they unquestioningly accept theadvice given them to wait until an Irish Parliament lets them have theland for nothing. Compulsion is not required for the landlords half so much as it is forthe tenants. The conclusion arrived at may be stated in a few words. Perhaps it may be worthy the consideration of our brilliant andfar-seeing Unionist leaders:-- The Land Purchase Act, 1891, should be amended by a Bill providing (1) That the existing Land Commission shall be strengthened in order to form a Court to which either Landlords or Tenants shall have the right to apply for an order of the Court placing them under the provisions of the Act of 1891, or such extension of that Act as may hereafter be made. (2) It should be the duty of the Court to inquire into the relations of landlord and tenant, the condition of the estate and of the tenants, and such other circumstances as may in the wisdom of the Court seem necessary. (3) If the Court decides to issue an order, the parties shall at once be placed in the same position as if they had entered into a mutual agreement under the Land Purchase Act, 1891; but it shall be the duty of the Court to fix the number of years' purchase; and it shall have power either to restrict or to enlarge the number of holdings over which its order shall take effect. This is offered as the mere germ of a suggestion. I am familiar withthe arguments that may be brought against it. For the most part theycan be urged with equal effect against the whole system ofinterference with that freedom of contract which prevails in Englandand Scotland, but which, as I have pointed out, has already beendestroyed in Ireland. What I claim is that there _must_ be a means ofdefeating such a conspiracy to make the law inoperative as thatpractised--to the grave detriment of Irish tenants' interests--by theomnipresent agencies of the National League, ever since the Unionistparty set itself to solve the agrarian sources of Irish discontent. Birmingham, August 14th. No. 61. --CLERICAL DOMINATION AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. Those who play at bowls must expect rubbers. The Roman priesthood ofIreland having assumed the manipulation of Irish politics, have laidthemselves open to mundane criticism. Said Mr. Gladstone:--"It is thepeculiarity of Roman theology that by thrusting itself into thetemporal domain, it naturally, and even necessarily, comes to be afrequent theme of political discussion. " Priestly pretensions toauthority are without limit. The Catholic clergy of Ireland claim theright to coerce the laity in political matters, themselves remainingexempt from public criticism. They also claim to be exempt from civiljurisdiction, and to have the right of overruling the law of the land, with every moral obligation, when clashing with the interests of theChurch. They distinctly teach that every political question is aquestion of morals, and that to vote against the priest's instructionsis a deadly sin. Such being a few of the claims advanced by the Irishpriesthood, let us see on what rests the hope of these extraordinarydemands being recognised. A. M. Sullivan, a Roman Catholic NationalistM. P. , says:--"Of all Catholic nations or countries in the world--theTyrol alone excepted--Ireland is perhaps the most Papal, the mostultramontane. In Ireland religious conviction--what may be calledactive Catholicism--marks the population, enters into their daily lifeand thought and action. The churches are crowded as well by men as bywomen, and in every sacrament and ceremony of their religionparticipation is extensive and earnest. Reverence for the sacerdotalcharacter is so deep and strong as to be called superstition byobservers who belong to a different faith; and devotion to the Pope, attachment to the Roman See, is probably more intense in Ireland thanin any other part of the habitable globe, the Leonine city itself notexcluded. " In other words, the Irish are more Roman than the Romansthemselves. Here we have on the one hand the claims of the Romishpriesthood, and on the other the disposition of the Irish people. Butas the alleged claims will to the majority of Englishmen appearmonstrous and incredible, it becomes necessary to prove that theseclaims are actually made. The fall of Parnell brought the clergy into striking prominence. Thepowerful personality of the Irish leader, his great popularity, andhis determination to rule alone, had to some extent forced the Churchinto the background. Parnell once removed, the Church at once aimed atundivided rule, directing all her energies to this end mercilessly andwithout scruple. Her instruments were worthy of the work. The modernIrish priest is usually low-bred, vulgar, and ignorant. The priest ofLever's novels, brimming over with animal spirits, full of _bonhomie_, sparkling with wit and abounding with jovial good-nature, is nowhereto be found. The men of the olden time were educated in France, and byrubbing against the cultured professors of Douai or Saint Omer, hadacquired a polish, a breadth of view, a _savoir faire_, denied to theilliterate hordes of Maynooth. The olden priest was loyal, just ascultured Irishmen who have travelled, whether in America, England, orelsewhere, are loyal and averse to Home Rule. The modern priest, usually the son of an Irishman such as visits England at harvest time, brought up amidst squalor and filth, is in full sympathy with thelimited ideas of the peasantry among whom he was reared. Theconversation of his parents and associates would relate to the burdenof the Saxon yoke, and his surroundings would perpetually re-echo thestories of Ireland's wrongs and woes. Any literature he might absorbwould be a priest-written history of Ireland, with the rebel doggerelof 1798 and the more seductive sedition of later years. At Maynooth hemeets a crowd of students like himself, crammed to the throat with hisown prejudices, viewing everything from the same standpoint. Hereturns to the people a full blown ecclesiastic, saturated with asense of his own importance and the absolute supremacy of the Churchhe represents; knowing nothing of mankind outside his own narrowsphere, profoundly ignorant of the world's political systems, andintensely inimical to England. Average Keltic priests fully bear outthe description furnished by a loyal priest of Donegal, who, onalluding to their social status and Maynooth course, said:--"They aremerely shaved labourers, stall-fed for three years. " As to their exceptional claims. The attitude of omniscience andomnipotence has often been crudely stated by the Catholic hierarchy. Archbishop Walsh, of Dublin, has declared that there is no dividingline between religion and politics. Dr. Walsh has also laid down thedictum that, "As priests and independent of all human organisations, we have an inalienable and indisputable right to guide our people inevery proceeding where the interests of Catholics as well as theinterests of Irish nationality are involved. " This prelate rescindedthe wholesome rule enforced by his predecessors, forbidding the clergyto take part in political demonstrations. He went further. He orderedthat at all political conventions an _ex-officio_ vote should be givento the priests. It is in view of this fact that the Unionists ofIreland not unreasonably declare that under a Home Rule Bill the RomanCatholic clergy would become endowed with civil privileges whichwould make them absolute rulers of Ireland. It may be urged thatBishop Walsh is discredited at Rome, and that therefore his utterancesmay be somewhat discounted. But what of the new Irish Cardinal, Archbishop Logue, of Armagh? He agrees with Dr. Walsh, and withreference to the Parnellite split, thus delivers himself:--"We areface to face with a grave disobedience to ecclesiastical authority!The doctrines of the present day are calculated to wean the peoplefrom the priests' advice, to separate the priests from the people, and_to let the people use their own judgment_!" Surely nothing could beclearer or more uncompromising than this. Bishop Nulty, alluding tothe refusal of Mr. Redmond's political party to accept withoutquestion the political commands of the Church, thus hinted at theconsequences to recalcitrant Papists:--"It is exclusively through usthat the clean and holy oblation of the mass is offered daily for theliving and the dead on the thousands of altars throughout our country. It is through our ministry that the poor penitent gets forgiveness ofhis sins in the Sacrament of Penance. The dying Parnellite will hardlydare to face the justice of his creator till he has been prepared andanointed by us for the last awful struggle and for the terriblejudgment that will immediately follow it. " This threat of eternaldamnation was eagerly taken up and re-echoed by the inferior clergy. Father Patrick O'Connell speaking from the altar at Ballinabrackeysaid that no Parnellite could receive the sacrament worthily, andwarned all parents against allowing their sons or daughters to attenda Parnellite meeting, as it was not a merely political matter, but amatter of their holy religion. In his sermon he referred to a meetingof the political party favoured by the Church, and said that everyman, woman, and child must be present. All must assemble at thechapel, and all must be in time to walk in procession to the place ofmeeting. He would be there with Father McLoughlin, and the pair wouldgo round to see who was absent. All absentees must let him know thereason why, and if the reason did not satisfy him he would meet themin the highways and in the byways, at the Communion rails, and would"set fire to their heels and toes. " He would make it hot for them. There would be no compromise. All voters against clerical instructionhe denounced as "infidels and heretics. " Mr. Edward Weir, who wassuspected of having opinions of his own, was denounced in CastlejordanChapel as a 'Pigotted Guardian. ' He was a member of the Poor LawBoard. He was threatened to be 'met at the communion rails, ' by whichhe understood that the sacrament would be refused to him. Two nightsafterwards the hedge around his house was set on fire, and fire wasplaced on the gate in front of it. This was a gentle hint that thepeople were backing the priest, and that unless he complied his housemight be next destroyed. When Mr. Michael Saurin, J. P. , a member ofthe Ballinabrackey congregation, went to vote, the door of the boothwas crammed to keep him out. The crowd booed and shouted at him, andhe was spat upon. The priests were present in force. Nicholas Cooneywas also spat upon, and so was his brother, both on their clothes andin their faces. Father Woods was looking on. Matthew Brogan, who wasalso thought to be against clerical dictation, was refused admissionto mass; and not only poor Matthew himself, but his son, daughter-in-law, her children, and two friends who were suspected ofsympathy. The woman insisted on entering the chapel, when one of thecrowd of true believers "near cut the hand off her. " Michael Kenny andPeter Fagan were served with the same sauce by these enthusiasticpreachers of the Onward March to Freedom, poor Fagan exhibiting thetouching devotion of the Irish peasantry by kneeling outside duringthe whole of the service. Englishmen do not realise what theserefusals mean to Irish Catholics. They constitute the cruellest andmost effective coercion possible. To be refused the sacraments, to beturned away from the door of his chapel, is to the Irish peasant aturning away from the gates of Paradise, a denial of the Kingdom ofHeaven, a condemnation to everlasting torment, to say nothing of theaccompanying odium in which he is held by his neighbours andassociates, and the ever present dread of boycotting. Thomas Brogandare not leave the polling-booth for his life, until Mr. Carew tookhim on his car. He had been threatened by the priest, who drew acircle round him with a walking stick, to show that he was cut offfrom his fellows, and that contamination must be feared. PatrickHogan, whose views were not in accordance with those of the priest, was afraid to vote. He went to the booth, but feared to proceed. Thomas Dunn was more plucky, but his temerity resulted in a cut faceand a black eye for his wife at the hands of a patriot named JamesMitchell. Father McEntee tore down a party flag belonging to thestation-master of Drumree, a Parnellite, and jumped on it, in atowering rage, saying that the owner must follow the instructions ofthe Bishop. He then threw the flag into a field. Father Crinnion, ofBatterstown, standing in his vestments at the altar, called out thenames of all persons supposed to be disaffected to the clerical cause, and ordered them to meet him in the vestry after mass. He asked fortheir votes, and showed a ballot paper. He had previously read inchapel the opinion of Bishop Nulty, quoted above. Father Tynan toldPatrick King that unless he voted "straight" he would not receive thesacraments on his deathbed. The same priest told John Cowley, ofKilcavan, that unless he voted for the right candidate he would beexpelled from the Church, and would be deprived of Christian burialwhen he died. Cases of this kind might be multiplied _ad infinitum_. Father Shaw, of Longwood, accentuated the horrible condition of theparty who refused to vote under his orders by asking his congregationto pray for them. Father Cassidy sailed on the same tack, and besidesthanked God that the "wrong 'uns" were so few. Father Fay, of Cool, said (between the Gospels) that his political opponents should be"treated like wild beasts, " and that he would never forget the men whovoted against his orders. Thomas Darby was canvassed by his priest, who, on finding that his parishioner was pledged the other way, curtlysaid, "Then you'll go to hell, " to which Darby replied that he wouldat any rate have a few companions. James Guerin has no confidence inthe secrecy of illiterate voting, for after voting in the presence ofa priest he had to jump a wall and hide in a wood to escape thevengeance of the people. When he came out, at ten o'clock at night, hewas stoned. Father O'Donnell, presumably in the interests of peace, advised his congregation to take their sticks to a certain meeting, and promised to be there with his own faithful blackthorn. The peasantFagan, who said his prayers outside the chapel, was burned in effigy, but priestly displeasure was not satisfied until his cowshed, with acart and harness were also destroyed by fire. To have independentopinions costs something substantial in Ireland. The aspirations of aPeople and the Onward March to Freedom are not kept up for nothing. The patriots are not afraid of their trouble. They will not spoil theUnion of Hearts for want of a little incendiarism. Now and then, butvery seldom, the priests meet their match. They presume on theirspiritual immunity. The priest who refused to leave a house into whichhe had intruded was threatened by Colonel Dopping with expulsion. "Dare to touch my consecrated body, " said the "shaved labourer. " "Yourconsecrated body be hanged!" said the Colonel, and out went FatherMcFadden. Father Fay, of Summerhill, said in a sermon delivered atDangan:--"You must not look upon me as a mere man! The priest is theambassador of Jesus Christ, and not like other ambassadors either. Hecarries his Lord and master about with him, and when the priest iswith the people, Almighty God is with them!" Father Fagan, ofKildalkey, was so vexed with the refusal of John Murtagh to voteaccording to clerical instructions that he said:--"May the landlordscome and hunt the whole of ye to hell's blazes. " Murtagh said, "Yewish yer neighbour well, Sorr!" The man of God threatened to kick poorMurtagh into the ditch, to which the erring parishioner replied thatin that case he would kick the good shepherd like a puppy. "Ah, " saidFather Fagan, "you ruffian, you'll want me at the Last Day, " andrefused to hear his wife's confession. The woman was dying, thehusband had been for the priest, and on the way to what proved adeath-bed, Father Fagan improved the shining hour by trying to nobblea straying vote. The clergy make the most of their opportunities. AtBoardmills Father Skelly spread out a ballot paper on the altar atSunday service. Having described the situation of the names, hepointed out where they were to make the cross. He then went on withthe mass. He thought of something else! Some of them, he hinted, werepledged to the other side. They could shout for this candidate, butwhen they went to vote they must "wink the other eye, " as advised bythe music-hall song. Colonel Nolan, M. P. , when canvasing at Headford, was violently assaulted by a priest, who cut open the Parnellite headwith a stout blackthorn. Like a good Catholic, the Colonel would fainhave endured this clerical argument; but the police authoritiesinsisted on the matter seeing the light. Clerical domination and the means by which it is attained aretherefore proven by undeniable evidence. The Papal hierarchy and theirsubordinates are resolved to be supreme. _Aut Cæsar, aut nullus. _ Andit is a striking fact that by none is this doctrine so stronglydeprecated, so bitterly resented, as by the educated and enlightenedportion of Roman Catholic Ireland. _Their_ aspirations are all on theside of toleration, harmony and peaceful progress. _They_ are not onlylaw-abiding, but loyal, and unlike the ignorant clergy and their stillmore ignorant dupes, are ever ready to join in singing "God Save theQueen. " From an English, even a Conservative point of view, theeducated Catholics of Ireland, like all classes of English Catholics, are everything that can be desired. But what are they among so many? The consequences of clerical domination, obtained by spiritual andphysical intimidation, are obvious enough. I have not space to showhow the system has been carried into the confessional, but numerousexamples are on record. Neither was it within the scope of thisarticle to prove, as could easily be done, that the clergy of Romeclaim to be above and outside the action of the statute law, and thattheir action is calculated to make the position of Protestantsuntenable. The moral degradation of the people, as exemplified bytheir dread of the priest, who escorts them in hundreds to thepolling-booth, and by his persistent action and untiring vigilanceexploits their electoral power for his own aggrandisement, and for theacquisition of Papal supremacy in Ireland, is to Englishmen of allconsiderations the most important. Recent events have demonstrated thefact that the politics of Ireland--and therefore the politics ofEngland--can be almost completely controlled for any purpose by thethirty prelates who practically command the votes of an entire people. A Roman Catholic barrister said to me:--"I do not blame the priestsfor doing the best they can for themselves. They have the power, andthey use it for their own purposes. I say they use it unfairly, andthe Meath election petition has proved that they use it illegally. They think otherwise, but without arguing this point, I say thatclerical domination will ruin the country. Irish election returns arefor the most part worthless as an expression of public opinion. "Another talented Irishman said:--"The glorious British Empire is nowbossed by a party of priests. " And that this is unhappily true must beconceded by every observant and impartial Englishman. Yet some there are, blind followers of the blind, obtuse to everyargument, impregnable to incontrovertible facts, who have cast intheir lot with the avowed enemies of England. They have theirday--every dog has it--but their day is far spent, and their night isat hand. For England will never again submit to Romish rule. Nor willIreland when her eyes are opened. Birmingham, August 16th. No. 62. --CIVIL WAR A CERTAINTY OF HOME RULE. English supporters of Mr. Gladstone affect to ridicule the fears ofarmed and organised conflict between the rival races and religions ofIreland. Their attitude in this respect is doubtless due to a slavishfollowing of their master. They keep their eye upon their figure-head. When it frowns they become serious. When it smiles they try to befunny. When it assumes an aspect of virtuous indignation, the tearsimmediately spring to their eyes, and they go about saying what ashame it is. They remind you of Professor Anderson and hisInexhaustible Bottle. Like Paddy Byrne's barometer, they are "stuckfast at Changeable. " They are always on the move. Like Virgil's lady, they are _varium et mutabile_. Like Shakespeare's gentlemen, they areDeceivers ever, One foot on shore and one foot on sea, To one thingconstant never. Every morning they nervously scan the journals to seewhat change of sentiment is required. Without this precaution theywould run the risk of meeting their political friends with the wrongfacial expression. The reason for all this is well known. Their mottois _ad exemplum regis_. To-day Mr. Gladstone believes (or says hebelieves) that if Ireland were left to herself, and the disturbing, domineering, tyrannising influence of England were removed, the rivalraces and religions would live together in perfect harmony andbrotherly love. His followers eagerly adopt this belief. But yesterdayMr. Gladstone believed (or said he believed) "That the influence ofGreat Britain in every Irish difficulty is not a domineering andtyrannising, but a softening and mitigating influence, and that wereIreland left to her own unaided agencies, it might be that the strifeof parties would then burst forth in a form calculated to strikehorror through the land. " His followers believed that too, and theywould believe it again to-morrow if their leader harked back. Thequotation is from Hansard, and commences, "It is my firm belief. " Whatdo Mr. Gladstone's infirm beliefs resemble? Putting aside the changeable Premier, gyrating like a dancing dervish, and his Penny-in-the-slot party, let us call respectable evidence; letus hear the opinion of competent and trustworthy witnesses; let usexamine the character of the forces which will be brought intoantagonism; let us observe what steps have been taken in view ofpossibilities more or less remote; and then let us form our ownconclusions. And first as to opinions and evidence, let us hear Mr. J. A. Froude, of all English historians the most famous expert on Irishsubjects. "The effect of Grattan's Constitution was to stimulatepolitical agitation and the conflict of the two races. " That was aHome Rule Parliament. And again Mr. Froude says:--"Ireland isgeographically and politically attached to this country, and cannot beallowed to leave us if she wishes. In passing over the executive powerto an Irish Parliament we only increase the difficulty of retainingIreland. We shall alienate the loyal part of the population, who willregard themselves as betrayed. The necessity of reconquest willremain, but the evils of it and the bloodshed to be occasioned by itwill be infinitely enhanced. Such respect for law and order as existsin Ireland is entirely due to English authority. Remove it, and theold anarchy will and must return. If the Home Rule Bill is passedthere will be a dangerous and desperate war, in which other countriesmay take part who would gladly see our power broken. " In Mr. Froude'sopinion, there would be war between England and Ireland, as well asbetween Ulster and the South. His last sentence is curiously confirmedby the _Irish Daily Independent_, which says:--"What England forgetsis the fact that when next Ireland fights she will not fight alone. "This is not a warning, like the prophecy of Mr. Froude, it is athreat, for the _Independent_ is not only a Nationalist, but anintensely anti-English paper. Another great historian, Mr. Lecky, thusexpresses himself:--"The Parliament Mr. Gladstone proposes to set upwould be in violent hostility to the richest and most industriousportion of the community. It is regarded with horror by nearly everyman who is a leader of industry in Ireland. All the great names inIrish finance, manufacture, and trade are against it, and the men whowould undoubtedly lead it are men whom Mr. Gladstone not long agodescribed with great justice as preaching the doctrine of publicplunder. " The state of feeling here indicated could have but oneresult; but Mr. Lecky is still more precise. "The assertion that IrishCatholics have never shown any jealousy of Irish Protestants is of akind which I find it difficult to characterise with proper moderation. Jealousy, unhappily, is far too feeble a word to describe adequatelythe fierce reciprocal animosity which has dislocated Ireland forcenturies. It blazed into a furious flame in the religious wars ofElizabeth, in the great rebellion of 1642, in the Jacobite struggle of1689, in the religious war into which the rebellion of 1798 speedilydegenerated. These facts are about as conspicuous in the history ofIreland as Magna Charta and the Commonwealth in the history ofEngland. No one who knows Ireland will deny that the policy of Mr. Gladstone has contributed more than any other single cause to reviveand deepen the divisions which every good Irishman deplores. " Mr. Lecky believes that history repeats itself, and that the establishmentof an Irish Parliament would lead to a great Irish convulsion, similarto those which he refers. My experience among Irish Churchmenconvinces me that their feeling is understated in the petition signedby nearly fifteen thousand select vestrymen, and adopted by thegeneral Synod, "That we regard the measure as fraught with peril toour civil and religious liberties, which are our prized inheritance;that conflicts of interest and collisions of authority would create acondition of frequent irritation and intolerable strain. " TheMethodists in full Conference gave it as their opinion "That in thejudgment of this committee the bill, if it were to become law, so farfrom being a message of peace to Ireland, would be a most fruitfuloccasion of distressing discord and strife; that class would bearrayed against class and party against party with a virulence nowrare and unknown; and that the inevitable result would be theoverturning of all order and good government. " What does this mean ifnot civil war? Be it understood that the existing feeling is now beingdemonstrated by appeal to the most reliable authorities, all speakingunder a due sense of responsibility, and therefore with a studiedmoderation. The Presbyterians, a numerous and powerful body, speakingin the General Assembly, after declaring that the proposed measureimperils their civil and religious liberties, and expressing theirdetermined opposition to an Irish Legislature and Executive, controlled by men "marching through rapine to the dismemberment of theEmpire, " whom a Special Commission found to be guilty of a criminalConspiracy, and who invented, supported, and tried to justify the LandLeague, the Plan of Campaign, and boycotting--after this preamble, thePresbyterians declare that the bill is "calculated to embitter thehostility of conflicting creeds and parties in Ireland. " The UnitedPresbyterian Church of Scotland resolved at a meeting of its IrishPresbytery "that Home Rule would greatly intensify the antagonism nowexisting between the two peoples inhabiting Ireland. " The Quakers comeout pretty strong. They first ask to be believed. They hope thatEnglishmen will give credence to the sincerity of their convictionsand the disinterestedness of their motives, and then they say thatHome Rule "cannot fail to be disastrous to Ireland, and must tend toperpetuate and intensify the strife and discord which we have so longlamented and which we earnestly desire, so far as in us lies, tomitigate and allay. " These protests are not all from Ulster. EveryGrand Jury in Ireland has expressed itself in similar terms. Theleading mercantile men of the three southern provinces of Ireland havedeclared in writing that "the Bill of the Government throws amongst usa new apple of discord, and plunges Ireland again into a state ofpolitical and party ferment. " Pages of quotation might be added. Butif those already adduced are not sufficient to satisfy my readers asto the feeling of the Irish Unionist party, they would hardly bepersuaded though one rose from the dead. The feeling of the other party is still stronger, and has been sooften and openly expressed as to stand in no need of proof. Mr. Dillonhas threatened to "manage Ulster;" and others have over and over againdeclared that the Protestant settlers are not Irishmen, and thereforehave no right in the country. The lower classes of Irish Nationalistsregard an Irish Legislature as an instrument to secure ascendency andplunder. The ruling idea is loot. The Unionists are determined at allcosts to maintain religious equality and to hold their own. In Ulstermasters and men, landlords and tenants, are of one mind. They do notbluster and brag. Those who represent them as rowdies do themgrievous wrong. They are sober, thrifty, industrious, pious. Incharacter they resemble Cromwell's Puritans, or the ScottishCovenanters of old, and no wonder, for they are of the same stock. They are by nature kindly and peaceful, but they become dangerousindeed on the points of liberty, religion, and property. We can partlyjudge their future by their past. In the dark and troublous days ofrebellion they held the country for England, established a police, didfor Ireland all that Government neglected to do, and then, havingrestored order, the small but mighty minority threw aside their armsand went back to their work. They are before everything industrial. Wars and rumours of wars they detest, as injurious to trade, as wellas to higher interests. But when they take off their coats they alwayswin. They put into their efforts, whether in war or peace, such astrenuous determination, such an unwavering resolution to succeed, that they become invincible. They have the confidence inspired byinvariable success. Their opponents have the flabbiness and the lackof self-reliance resulting from seven hundred years of whining andquerulous complaint. If Mr. Gladstone were to offer completeseparation to-morrow the Irish leaders dare not take it. They knowwhat would happen if Ulster took the field. Spite of their boasting, Dillon & Co. Know full well that their vaunted numbers would availthem naught. The venerable William Arthur, a Nonconformist minister, says:--"Wewill not be put under a Parliament in Dublin. The Imperial franchiseand all which that guarantees is our birthright. No man shall take itfrom us. We will never sell it. If Englishmen and Scotchmen will notlet us live and die in the freedom we were born to, they will have tocome and kill us. On that ground stands the strongest party inIreland. For as sure as the Home Rule party is the larger, so surelyis the Unionist party the stronger. Ask any military man who has spenta few years in the country. Settle the Irish question by putting thestronger party under the weaker! You would only change a count ofheads into a trial of strength. Instead of the polling-booth, wherenothing counts but heads, you would set for the two parties anothertrysting place. There brains count, education counts, purses count, habits of hard work count, habits of command and habits of obediencecount, habits of success count, delight in overcoming difficultiescount, northern tenacity counts, and there are other things which I donot mention that would count. Let not the two parties be summoned tothat trysting place!" During my visit to Belfast I had exceptional opportunities ofascertaining the probabilities of armed resistance to the authority ofa Dublin Parliament. I visited what might fairly be called the UlsterWar Department, and there saw regular preparation for an opencampaign, the arrangements being under the most able and expertsuperintendence. The tables were covered with documents connected withthe sale and purchase of rifles and munitions of war. One of them setforth the particulars of a German offer of two hundred and forty-fivethousand Mauser rifles, the arm lately discarded by the PrussianGovernment, with fifty million cartridges. As I had frequentopportunities of observing the manufacture of a hundred and fiftythousand of these weapons by the National Arms and Ammunition Companyof Sparkbrook, I noted the present quotation, which was 16s. Each, thecartridges to be thrown in for nothing. Another offer referred to ahundred and forty-nine thousand stand of arms with thirty millioncartridges. There were numerous offers from Birmingham, and a largeconsignment of rifles and bayonets were about to be delivered inIreland, the entire freight of a small steamer, at a place which I wasthen forbidden to mention, but which I may now say was Portaferry. Anenormous correspondence was submitted to me in confidence, and I wassurprised to see how deep and sincere was the sympathy of the workingmen of England, who with gentlemen of position and influence, andrifle volunteers by thousands were offering their aid in the fieldshould the bill become law. I saw a letter from a distinguishedEnglish soldier with an offer of five hundred pounds and two hundredmen. Money was coming in plentifully, and all the correspondence wasunsought. The office had over fifty thousand pounds in hand, andpromises for more than half a million. The forces at that moment, organised and drilled, numbered 164, 614, all duly enrolled and pledgedto act together anywhere and at any time, many of them already wellarmed, and the remainder about to be furnished with modern weapons. The Government was becoming nervous. An order from headquartersrequired a complete survey of the three barracks of Belfast, with anexhaustive report as to their defensive capabilities. Plans ofexisting musketry loopholes were to be made, and commanding officerswere to state if it would be advisable to add to them. Suggestionswere invited, and Mr. Morley, who at that very moment was tellingParliament that no precautions were being taken, wanted to know if thesaid barracks could be held against an organised force of civilians, arriving unexpectedly, and when Tommy Atkins was taking his walksabroad. At the same time, military officers were being secretly swornin as magistrates. Does this look like the fear of civil war? Thesestatements, made in the _Gazette_ five months ago, have not beencontradicted. The rank and file of the English Home Rule party knownothing of this--and by what their priestly allies would call"invincible ignorance" they may be excused their inability to believein stern resistance to anything. The party of surrender are totallyincapable of understanding that men exist who would lay down theirlives for a principle. Mr. Gladstone and his Items, like the Irishleaders and their dupes, are easily overmastered. You have only tostand up to them, and they curl up like mongrel curs. But for thisfact were would be no Home Rule Bill. Of the two parties the Irishwere the stoutest, and the weakest went to the wall. The English HomeRulers cannot conceive that their conquerors could be easily beaten, or even that men can be found to meet them on the field. On thecontrary, the men of Ulster who know these heroes hold them in deepestcontempt, and in the event of an appeal to arms would treat them as somany mice. Spite of their Army of Independence, the Nationaliststacitly admit this, and would defer separation until they have firstby legislative enactments driven away "the English garrison, " orcompelled Ulster in self-defence to declare against English rule. And, strange to say, they propose to use to this end the force of Englisharms. They calculate on the resistance of Ulster as a measure ofassistance to their own ultimate purposes. "All we have to do is tostand by while British soldiers shoot them down like dogs. " That istheir expectation, as expressed by one of themselves. Their plans arewell hid. But "The best-laid schemes o' mice and men Gang aft agley, "as the priest-governed schemers may find to their cost. A second and more recent sojourn in Ulster deepened the impressiongiven by my first visit. Throughout the province the feeling is stillthe same--an immovable determination to resist at all hazards theimposts of a Dublin Parliament. They will have no acts or part in it. They will send no members, they will pay no taxes, they will notaccord to it one jot or tittle of authority. They will offer armedresistance to any force of police or Sheriff's officers acting underwarrants issued by the College Green legislators. Resistance to theQueen's authority they regard as altogether out of the question. Butit remains to be seen whether British troops will "shoot them downlike dogs. " The Ulstermen think not, and they have good reasons forthis opinion. The mere threat of Home Rule in 1886 cost forty lives inthe streets of Belfast alone. Who can say what would be the results ofthe bill becoming law? Surely every reliable test points in onedirection. The Gladstonian party, without a shadow of reason, haveaffected to doubt the courage and resolution of the Northerners, butthe breed of the men and their long history are a sufficient answer tothese cavillers. True it is that their courage has not beendemonstrated by murder, by shooting from behind a wall, or thebattering out of a policeman's brains, a hundred against one, or thedischarging of snipe-shot into the legs of old women and youngchildren, after the fashion so popular with the party with whom Mr. Gladstone and his heterogeneous crew are now acting. But for all that, the pluck and tenacity of Ulstermen are undeniable. Their cause isgood, and left to themselves they would win hands down. It is therefore demonstrated by a consensus of the weightiestauthorities and by the results of personal investigation that not onlywould civil war between Irish parties be the inevitable result of HomeRule, but that there would also be war between Ireland and England;that Irish Unionists are determined to resist to the last, and thatthey possess the means of resistance. They are touched on thesubjects they hold most sacred--religion, freedom, property; anddespite the assurances of Mr. Gladstone, who desires to judge theNationalist party by their future, the keen Ulstermen prefer to judgethem by their past. And bearing these things in mind, it is notunreasonable to say that Englishmen who support the present policy ofthe Separatist party are at once enemies of Ireland and traitors totheir native land. And now my task as your Special Commissioner in Ireland is at an end. Without fear or favour I have described the country as I found it, andhave exposed the character and the motives of the men to whom Mr. Gladstone would entrust its future government. I was no bigotedpartisan when my task began, but in a period of six months I havetraversed the country from end to end, and at every step my firstimpressions have been deepened. It would be a folly--yea, it would bea crime--to withdraw from Ireland that mitigating influence of Britishrule which alone prevents a lovely island becoming the foul andblood-stained arena of remorseless sectarian strife. Birmingham, August 18th. FINIS. GENERAL INDEX ACHIL ISLANDS, 244. AGRICULTURE, Mr. Balfour's aids to, 179 and 370. "ALL YOU WANT, " an Irish Programme, 331. AMERICAN Tourist's Opinion, 7 and 31; Help for Ireland, 329. ARAN ISLANDS, 156. ARMAGH, 291. ASHBOURNE ACT, Happy results of, 133. ATHENRY, 177. BALFOUR, Right Hon. A. J. , reception in Belfast, 20; reception in Dublin, 40; Galway Fisheries, 135; Ditto, 140; The Man for Ireland, 152; Aids Agriculture, 179; Secret of Success, 210; List of his Light Railways, 387. BALLYMENA, Description of, 32. BANKS, Effects of Home Rule Bill on, 8. BEGGARS, Irish, 237, 360, and 378. BELFAST, Newcastle Miners in, 22; Belfast and Dublin Corporations compared, 22; Chamber of Commerce, 29; Riots of 1886, 29; Later Opinions, 317. BLARNEY STONE, The, 65. BODYKE, Visit to, 103; History of Estate, 105; Evictions at, 106 and 109; Tenants could Pay, 118. BOYCOTTING (_see also_ Outrage, &c. ). The Darcy Family, 118; Mr. Strachan, of Tuam, 130; Children Starving, 151; For expressing Political Opinions, 227; Father Humphreys on, 264; Mrs. Taylor's Case, 346. BOYNE, Battle of the, 307. BUNDORAN, Attack on Protestants at, 384. CABLES, Nationalists and Atlantic, 11. CHAMBERLAIN, Right Hon. J. , and Mr. Dillon, 297. CAPPAWHITE, Assault, 53. CAPITAL, Idle Irish, 200. CATHEDRALS, Tipperary, 48; Monaghan, 299. CATHOLICS, Roman, Opinion of Unionist, 14; Hatred of Protestants, 14 (_see also_ Intolerance); The Loyalist, 166 and 266. CATTLE in living rooms, 245. CHARACTER SKETCHES--A Kerry Shopkeeper, 69; Philip Fahy, 125; An Old Woman, 148; Local Names, 175; Ladies and their Boots, 178; Bailiffs and Gangers, 182; Achil Car Driver, 247. CHARITY, Effects of Home Rule Bill on, 7; Hopelessness of helping the Irish by, 238. CHURCHYARD, an Irish, 223. CLARE, "Unmanageable Devils, " 74; the Curse of County, 81; Civil War in, 102. COERCION, Irish Legislature and, 114. CONGESTED DISTRICTS, a precise definition of, 178; Description of, 230. CORK, Sentiment in, 61. CREDULITY of Irish, 3, 13, and 119; Belief in Fairies, 138; Hill full of Diamonds, 150. CROKE, Archbishop, 351. CUSTOMS, Collection of, under Home Rule, 58. DE BURGHO, Lady, and Evictions, 113. DEGRADATION, Glimpses of Irish, 244. DILLON, John, convicted at Tipperary, 53. DISLOYALTY (_see also_ Union of Hearts); "To hell with Queen Victoria, " 4; the Town Crier, 218; Cursing the Queen, 262; Father Ryan's Manifesto, 276; Irish Press admits, 287; Poem against joining the Army, 364; T. D. Sullivan's Verses, 337. DONEGAL, Do-Nothing, 371. DUBLIN, Opinions in, 1; compared with Belfast, 22. DUGORT, 251. DUNDALK, 278. DYNAMITE, Use of, justified, 235; Daly, 275. EDUCATION, Catholic designs on, 301. ELECTIONS (_see also_ Voting) in Ulster, 342; False Swearing, 360. ENGLAND, Apathy of Electors in, 6; Effects of Home Rule on English Industries, 43, also 213 and 372; English Ignorance of Ireland, 238; Not Governed by Englishmen, 279. EVICTIONS (_see also_ Bodyke). Sadleir case, 57; Ruane, 130; What They Mean, 228; In Queen's County, 334. FACTORIES, Galway Bag, 141; Ditto, 182; Flour Mills, &c. , idle, 200. FAMINE in Achil, 253; "Please God we'll have a Famine, " 255. FARMERS, English and Irish compared, 99; Irish Petted and Spoiled, 281. FENIANS, Opinion of, 260; O'Leary and Stephens, 388. FISHERIES, Priests' Falsehoods about, 94; Galway, 135; Price of Fish, 139; Aran Island, 158; Curing Taught, 181. FLAX-Growing Neglected, 290. FOREST Planting in Congested Districts, 180. FOWL Breeding Encouraged, 370. FRANCHISE, Effects of lowering, 78. FREEMASONS, Archbishop Walsh and, 19. FUNERALS in Connaught, 214. GAG, _Irish Catholic_ on, 343. GALWAY, Board of Guardians, 140; Harbour Folly, 175. GEOGRAPHICAL Necessity, 357. GLADSTONE, Right Hon. W. E. , attacks Parnell, 96; "Oi'm goin' across the Say, " 134; Mob Rule, 150; As a "Jumper, " 248; his "firm belief, " 309; "the party of law and order, " 325. GLADSTONIANS converted in Ireland, 137, 154, and 312. GORT, Description of, 116. GRUBB, Sir Howard, 1. GUARDIANS, Boards of, and Rates, 267. HARRINGTON, "Tim, " 9. HARVEST Hands for England, Irish, 247, 251, 258; _see also under_ England. HEALY, "Tim, " his parentage, 64. HOLY WATER, 186. HOME RULE, a Coffin for, 3; Nationalist Opinions of Bill, 8; How Nationalists will work, 10; A Peasant's View of, 54; Not Yet, 70; Home Rule from Mr. Balfour, 70; Mr. Manley on, 98; Praying against, 120; Masses don't want, 137; "Let us have Chaos, " 164; "Can we eat it?" 173; An Irish Criticism of, 215; Who oppose it? 249; _United Ireland_ on, 291; German View of, 305; Its Friends and Enemies, 330; Parnellites dread it now, 376. HOUGHTON, Lord, 272, 286, 316. HUMOROUS INCIDENTS narrated: The Phoenix Park Orator, 9; An "Iligant" Tenant, 31; "The Devil's Bite, " 56; The Timprance Man, 56; A Lending Transaction, 80; The Galway Fisherman, 124; "When I'm sober, " 148; "'Tis Home Rule ye want, " 160; Mr. Morley and the Car-driver, 177; The Wild Ass, 181; Michael and the Postal Service, 208; The Cattle Boat, 275; A Question of Feet, 357; An Irish Retort, 364; Finn Water _v. _ Purgatory, 354. IGNORANCE, the Kerry Folks', 68. IMMIGRATION, Effects of Home Rule on, 210. IMPROVIDENCE, in Connaught, 124; Irish Farmers', 227. INTIMIDATION (_see also_ Bodyke), Sadleir's Case, 57; How it is Done, 132. INTOLERANCE, Irish, 339, 349. IRELAND, Another Injustice to, 122. IRISH LANGUAGE, 203. IRISH NATIONAL FEDERATION, Commissioner attends a "Mass Meeting" of the, 282; Sequel thereto, 371. IRISH MEMBERS, Popular Opinions of, 8 and 57; Protected by Police, 60; Contempt for, 114; Why Distrusted, 151; Matt Harris, 205; Fenians on, 260. JURIES, The Cork, 69. LANDLORDS Must Exist, 117; Tim Healy on, 338. LAND (_see also_ Rent), Sub-division of, 58; Land Hunger, 99 (_see also_ Summary Article, 396); Tenants Real Owners, 192; a Farmer's View, 225; Must be Worth Something, 228; Land Commission Rewards Idleness, 373. LAND LEAGUE, Defying the, 65; Reign at Loughrea, 142; Overmatched, 254; Gladstone and Harcourt on, 315. LAND PURCHASE, Falsehoods about, 144. LAZINESS, Examples of, 36; Mr. James Dunn on Irish, 123; Mr. McMaster's Offer, 155; In England Work, in Ireland Play, 229; an Excuse for, 245; Death and, 250; "Going to, " 378. LEGISLATION, with a Hard G, 330. LIES, Nationalist, about Daly, 279; about Westminster, 316; about Mr. Balfour, 344. LINEN TRADE of Londonderry, 34. LOCAL GOVERNMENT, A Nationalist on, 277. LOGAN, M. P. , False Statements about Rents, 195. LOGUE, Cardinal, 293; his Father, 357. LONDONDERRY, Description of, 34. MACADAM, Mr. , Bodyke Agent, 103. MCFADDEN, Father, his income, 369. MAGEE, Detective James, 388. MANSIONS IN RUINS, 184. MARRIAGE Customs in Connaught, 213; in Achil Islands, 246; Juvenile, 257. MAYNOOTH, Enemy of England, 76, 326; Dr. Wylie on, 350. MINES, Delusions about, 121, 145, 212, 233, 358, 362. MINORITY, The, 296, 312. MONAGHAN, 299. MORLEY, Right Hon. John, soliloquy, 89; on the side of crime, 104; tight-fisted, 153; the cab-driver and, 177; police on, 226; philandering, 389. MULLINGAR, 191. NATIONALISM, its real nature, 4; _see also_ summary article, 390. NEWRY, 285. NOLAN, Colonel, interview with, 126; a Parnellite, 210; assaulted by a priest, 281. O'BRIEN, WILLIAM, convicted at Tipperary, 53. O'CALLAGHAN, Colonel, 100. O'SHAUGHNESSY, Dr. , on Home Rule, 115. ORANGE LODGES, their toleration, 33; demonstrations, 319; charged with rowdyism, 323; constitution of the, 324. OUTRAGES: Two girls brutally assaulted, 60; fifteen in County Clare, 83; hushing up, 89; dread of, 91; Loughrea, 142; a terrible list of, 167; a fire, 198; Mr. Moloney shot, 199; Castle explosion, 218; Mr. Blood fired at, 281. PARLIAMENT, an Irish, what it could do, 188; fancy picture of, 268. PARNELLITES and Anti-Parnellites defined, 270. PARNELL, Mr. , Priests and, 79; secret of his success, 133; still worshipped in Dublin, 277. PEACE, Ireland needs, 72. PLEDGES and Promises, Value of Irish, 97. POLICE, The Dublin, 5; refuse protection at Bodyke, 107; Mr. Morley and the, 226. PONSONBY Rents, 50. POST OFFICE Savings Bank, Run on, 8. POTATO Seed Wasted, 248. POVERTY, English and Irish, 255. PRESS, The Irish, 272; on finality, 337. PRIESTS AND PEOPLE (_see also_ Voting): A terrible danger, 71; priests' one idea, 73; priests at Home Rule Convention, 164; never denounced outrage, 167; people believe anything priest tells them, 204; present day priests, 211; "I am responsible, " 242; "admit bearer, " 263; "pay, pay, pay, from the cradle to the grave, " 325; spiritual tyranny, 332; refusing the sacrament, 348; a loyal priest, 365. PROTECTIONISTS, 269. PROTESTANTS, Attack on, at Cappawhite, 53; persecution of, at Tuam, 131; colony at Dugort, 246; why they are Unionists, 380; Bundoran outrage upon, 384. RAILWAYS--Mr. Balfour's--Cork and Muskerry, 65; the Connemara, 169; a ride on a new line, 174; an engine ride, 230; building on a bog, 231; a dangerous ride, 241; full list of Balfour Light Railways, 387. REGISTRATION FRAUDS, 341. RENTS, the Ponsonby, 50; rack renting, 100; quite low enough, 143; what rack rent means, 190; land must be worth something, 228; to whom is rent due? 335; Dublin Corporation tenants and Clanricarde tenants compared, 335; a Donegal rent book, 354. REPUBLIC, An Irish, 162; could we reconquer? 185. RIBBONMEN and Nationalists compared, 276. ROSSMORE, Lord, and Monaghan Town Council, 301. RUINS, Irish, 310. SALTHILL, 149. ST. PATRICK, 307. SCOTCH and Irish Compared, 286 and 375. SECURITIES, Effect of Home Rule Bill on, 7. SECRET Societies, 148. SENTIMENT, a Priest on Irish, 188. SMITH Barry, Mr. , 50. SOAP as a remedy for Ireland's ills, 95. SOLDIERS, Irish Girls and, 79; complaint when withdrawn, 278. STRABANE Agricultural Show, 375. STRANORLAR, 352. STRIKE Leaders and Nationalists compared, 370. SULLIVAN, T. D. , on India, 337. SUMMARY ARTICLES:-- 1--Irish Nationalism is not Patriotism, 390. 2--Land Hunger: Its Cause, Effect, and Remedy, 396. 3--Clerical Domination and its Consequences. 4--Civil War a certainty of Home Rule. SUPERSTITION (_see also_ Credulity), the Holy Man, 62. TENANTS' Losses, 52. TERRORISM in Dublin, 10; Rev. R. Eager, 12; at Tipperary, 48. TIPPERARY, New and Old, 48. TOLERATION, would Catholics show? 300 and 303. TRADE, Home Rule effects on (_see also_ England), 7 and 65. TRADITION, Effects of, 76. TUAM, 128; Indignation Meeting, 220. ULSTER, Feeling on Home Rule Bill in, 13; Preparation for War, 13; English Sympathy with, 15; Loyalist Programme, 16; Character of Ulstermen, 243; Articles on, 285; "tak a doom'd lot of managin', " 321. UNION of Hearts, Dublin mob on, 42; "When England's bur-r-sted up, " 74; Miss Gonne, 93; Union Jack cut down, 191; "When Britons first at Hell's command" (_see also_ Disloyalty), 197. VICTORIA Disaster, Irish opinion of, 297. VOTING, Priests and, 263, 332; Priests endowed with a thousand votes, 353; Regulations wanted against priests, 360. WALSH, Archbishop, 274. WAR, Preparations for, in Ulster, 13; Mr. Morley's precautions, 27; Ireland's policy when England is at war, 314; Danger of civil war, 409. WORTHINGTON, Mr. Robert, on ruin by Home Rule, 43. * * * * * +-----------------------------------------------------------+ | Typographical errors corrected in text: | | | | Page 33: Ballymera replaced with Ballymena | | Page 37: neighboughhood replaced with neighbourhood | | Page 103: McAdam replaced with MacAdam | | Page 107: indentification replaced with identification | | Page 109: thelr replaced with their | | Page 110: Goverment replaced with Government | | Page 163: "villager iu Ireland" replaced with | | "villager in Ireland" | | Page 211: estabblished replaced with established | | Page 232: "People offer to to swop" replaced with | | "People offer to swop" | | Page 259: enthusiam replaced with enthusiasm | | Page 260: fiasca replaced with fiasco | | Page 270: indentify replaced with identify | | Page 270: indentified replaced with identified | | Page 297: "the rulings power" replaced with | | "the ruling power" | | Page 315: waa replaced with was | | Page 320: againt replaced with against | | Page 323: Rome Rule replaced with Home Rule | | Page 353: innnumerable replaced with innumerable | | Page 362: obained replaced with obtained | | Page 370: "we should should have" replaced with | | "we should have" | | Page 378: Linerick replaced with Limerick | | Page 378: "Tha beggars" replaced with "The beggars" | | Page 380: politican replaced with politician | | Page 381: "had stated that the the Black-mouths" | | replaced with | | "had stated that the Black-mouths" | | Index: McAdam was replaced with MacAdam | | | +-----------------------------------------------------------+ * * * * *