seen--an agitation
having for its object the radical amendment of the measure.

"There is a complete cessation of railway work. Already the men are
thinking 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? Under
ordinary circumstances I buy largely all kinds of railway
material--steel rails, sleepers, fasteners, engines, and carriages.
Every year I send thousands and thousands of pounds to England for
these things, and surely most of the money goes indirectly into the
pockets of English working men, who are now suffering the loss of all
this by reason of their apathy in this matter. I speak only as a man
of business, anxious for the prosperity of my country. I do not
discuss Home Rule; never did discuss it and never will. But I end
where I began, and I repeat the bill will ruin Ireland, will be bad
for England, and I will add that the British Government will soon be
compelled to intervene to stave off Irish bankruptcy. Home Rulers are
now becoming afraid of the bill; artisans, farmers, and labourers
think it a good joke. They relished the hunt, but they don't want the
game.

"Returning to my own affairs, I say without hesitation that though the
mere threat of the bill has paralysed my business, and that the
passing of the bill would drive my men to England, yet--throw out the
bill, deliver us from the impending dread, and during the next two
years I shall myself expend L150,000 in railway material manufactured
by British artisans. Emphatically I repeat that Home Rule to the
British working man means increased competition and direct pecuniary
loss."

Mr. S. McGregor, of 30, Anglesea Street, Dublin, has been located in
the city for 34 years, and seems to have been a politician from the
first. 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 change
came o'er the spirit of his dream. His shop has the very unusual
feature of indicating his political views. Her Gracious Majesty, Lord
Beaconsfield, and Mr. Balfour look down upon you from neat frames. I
am disposed to regard Mr. McGregor as the pluckiest man in Ireland. A
quiet, peaceful citizen he is, one who remembers the Sawbath, and on
weekdays concentrates his faculties on his occupation as a tailor and
clothier. I did not seek the interview, which arose from a business
call not altogether unconnected with a missing button, b