ks
about 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 of
thim, I mane. Many's the time I seen the Irish mimbers. Sorra a thing
can they do, barrin' dhrink an' talk. I wouldn't thrust one of thim to
rub down a horse, nor wid a bottle of poteen. Divil a one of thim but
would dhrink as much whiskey as would wash down a car, an' if they
could run as fast as they can talk, begorra, ye might hunt hares wid
thim. 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 Benbulben
mountains on the left, singularly shaped but splendid. The round
towers and ancient Irish crosses, the lakes and rivers of Sligo, are
full of interest and beauty. The Abbey ruins are exceptionally fine.
The town is fairly well built, but it is easy to realise that once
more it is Connaught. During a turn round Bridge Street, a country
cart heaves alongside, steered by a stalwart man in hodden gray. He
notes 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 well
when you get Home Rule."

He stopped the cart and protested against this statement. Unknowingly
I had tapped a celebrity. My hodden-gray friend was none other than
the famous Detective James Magee, who arrested James Stephens, the
Number One, the Head Centre of the Irish Revolutionary Brotherhood;
also John O'Leary, editor of the Fenian _Irish People_, of which
O'Donovan Rossa was business manager. O'Leary was a doctor hailing
from Tipperary. He asked Magee if he might have his "night-cap," and
his captor allowed him to call for the whiskey at a well-known Dublin
resort, on parole of honour. Later, as a crowded street was reached,
O'Leary said, "There are three thousand of my friends there. If you go
that way I cannot save you. Better try a back street." "That was
handsome," said Mr. Magee. "O'Leary was a gentleman. Stephens was only
a 'blower.'" My friend was unalterably set against Home Rule, which he
regards as an empty, foolish cry. Being a pensioner he wishes to be
reticent, 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 district
would need no police. "A bette