tal affection.

These gentlemen must have a wonderful opinion of the gullibility of
the great Saxon race. But as they see a certain portion believe in Mr.
Gladstone they may expect them to believe in anything. To swallow the
G.O.M. plus Harcourt, Healy, Conybeare, Cobb, O'Brien, and the Home
Rule 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 public
resort yesterday I witnessed a specimen of their sportive style. A
young fellow was complaining that the examining doctor of some
recruiting station had refused him "by raison of my feet."

"I heerd tell they wouldn't take men wid more than fifteen inches of
foot on thim," remarked a bystander. "The Queen couldn't shtand the
expinse at all at all in leather."

"Arrah, now, will ye be aisy," said another. "Sure, Micky isn't all
out 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 iv
the 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 know
Kerrigan's whiskey-shop. Well, one day Kerrigan was standin' chattin'
wid his wife, when the shop-windy all at once wint dark, an' Kerrigan
roars out, 'What for are ye puttin' up the shutters so airly?' says
he. An' faix, 'twas no wondher ye'd think it, for ould Hennessy of
Ballybofey had fallen down in the street, an' it was the two
good-lookin' feet of him stickin' up that was darkenin' the shop. Ax
Kerrigan himself av it wasn't."

A roar of laughter followed this sally, and the rejected recruit was
comforted.

Stranorlar is pleasantly situated on the river Finn, in a fertile
valley surrounded by an amphitheatre of green hills, beyond which may
in some direction be seen the more imposing summits of the Donegal
highlands. The walk to Meenglas, Lord Lifford's Irish residence, would
be considered of wonderful beauty if its extensive views were visible
anywhere near Birmingham; but in Ireland, where lovely scenery is so
uncommonly common, you hardly give it a second glance. The tenantry
are mostly Nationalist, if they can be said to be anything at all.
They one and all speak highly of Lord L