ve been
working 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 too
ignorant for this counthry, though he might do very well for them
places 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 a
hand's turn can be done without money. Money for christening, for
confession, for everything from the cradle to the grave. And when
they're dead the poor folks are still ruining the counthry, for their
relatives run up and down begging money to get their souls out of
purgatory. 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 money
they 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 priest
lately, and I said, 'Suppose I fell into Finn-water, and a man who saw
me 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 brute
and a heathen.' 'But suppose, instead of Finn-water it was purgatory I
was in, and the priest said, "I'll pull ye out for five pounds," what
about him?' 'Good morning to ye,' says the sogarth aroon (dear
priest). There was no answer for me."

Another Stranorlar man said:--"When the bill passed the second
reading, there was not a hill round about, for many a mile, without a
blazing tar-barrel on it, and the houses were lit up till ye'd think
the places were on fire. The people were rejoicing for they knew not
what. Says one to me, 'Ye can pack up yer clothes,' says he. They
think they will now get rid of the English, and have things all their
own way. That's their general idea. All their rejoicing passed off
without 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 be
stoned, 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. But
if we started an Orange procession on July 12 in Stranorlar, we'd be
knocked into smithereens. And yet in the town we are about
half-and-half. Of course, when you get out into the wild districts the
Romanists greatly outnumber us. The plea of reduction of rent being
required is very absurd when you