forth that no proselytism was intended, and that
the migrants would be under the care of Catholic clergy. As they had
neither money nor furniture worth moving, it was agreed to pay the cost
of transit, and to provide clean, sweet cottages, ready furnished, and
with every reasonable convenience. The furniture was to be paid for by
instalments, but the cost of removal was to be a gift from Mr.
McMaster, who was desirous of aiding the people without pauperising
them. They were to work the ordinary factory hours, as enacted by
statute, and to be paid the ordinary wages. But they were required to
work regularly. No saints' days, no lounging about on the "pattherns"
(patron saints' days), no in-and-out running, but steady, regular
attendance. People who knew the Keltic Irish laughed at Mr. McMaster,
but he had seen their poverty, their filth, their mud cabins, their
semi-starvation, and he thought he knew. He offered them work, and
everything they seemed to want, out of pure humanity.

"How many people moved to Gilford out of the two counties?"

"Peradventure there might be a hundred found, peradventure there might
be fifty, thirty, twenty, ten."

"Guess again. Give it up? Not a single solitary soul accepted Mr.
McMaster's offer. These are the people who are waiting for Home Rule.
Much good may it do them."

A little Galway man became irate. "'Tis our birthright to hate
England. That's why we want Home Rule that we may tache thim their
place. I'd fight England, an' I'd do more." Here he looked sternly at
the Ulsterman. "I'd do more, I say, I'd fight thim that'd shtand up
for her. D'ye see me now?"

The Belfast man proved an awkward customer. He said, "You're too busy
to fight anybody just now, you Nationalists. Wait till you've settled
your differences, wait till you've cut each other's throats, wait till
you've fought over the plunder, like the Kilkenny cats, till there's
nothing left of you but the tail. Then we'll send down an army of owld
women with besoms to sweep ye into the Atlantic. 'Twill be the first
bath your Army of Independence ever got. 'Twill cool their courage and
clean their hides at the same time."

The small Separatist was about to make an angry reply, when I
interposed with an inquiry as to his estimate of Mr. Gladstone.

"Ah," said the little man, with a pucker of his little nose, and a
grand gesture of contempt, "sure he's not worth as much powdher as
would blow him to hell."

His sentiment la