's upon ye. 'Tis Englishmen
I like, bedad it is; the grandest, foinest, greatest counthry in the
wuruld, begorra it is--an' why not?"

This outburst somehow reminded me of a certain gentleman I met at the
Railway Hotel, Athenry. He said, "I'm a Home Ruler out and out. The
counthry's widin a stone's throw o' Hell, an' we may as well be in it
althegither."

"Now, Mr. Kelly," said the charming Miss O'Reilly, "you are most
inconsistent; 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 so
lightly with human life are still at work, and the best-informed
people believe that the murderous emissaries of the Land League, whose
terrorism ruined the town, are only kept down by a powerful and
vigilant police. I have only described three of the murders which took
place in the town and neighbourhood during a comparatively short
period. Add Mr. Burke and driver Wallace; both shot dead near
Craughwell. J. Connor, of Carrickeele, who had accepted a situation as
bog-ranger, _vice_ Keogh, discharged. Shot. Three men arrested. No
evidence. Patrick Dempsey, who had taken a small farm from which
Martin Birmingham had been evicted. Shot dead in the presence of his
two small children, with whom he was walking to church. No evidence.
No convictions, but many more crimes, both great and small. So many
murders that outrages do not count for much.

It is to the men who are directly responsible for all these horrors
that 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 chronic
starvation and enabled to earn their own livelihood by the splendid
organisation of Mr. Balfour for the relief of the congested districts.
Postal and other exigences having compelled a hasty return to the
mainland, I defer a full account of this most interesting visit until
my next letter, when I shall also be in possession of fuller and more
accurate information than is attainable on the island itself.

Meanwhile, let us examine the state of Irish feeling by the sad sea
waves of Galway Bay. Salthill is a plucky little bathing place; that
is, plucky for Ireland. It is easily accessible from Galway town, and
looks over the bay, but i