monstrative with his hands. He abounds with pious (and other)
ejaculations, and belongs to that popular class which is profuse in
expressions of surprise and admiration. The most commonplace
observation evokes a "D'ye see that, now?" a "D'ye tell me so, thin?"
or a "Whillaloo! but that bates all!" As will be seen, Michael
artistically suits his exclamations to the tone and matter of the
principal narrator, mixing up Christianity and Paganism in a quaintly
composite style, but always keeping in harmony with the subject. The
Sligo man said:--

"I seen the mails go on the boat at Kingstown, an' there was hundhreds
of bags, no less."

"Heavenly Fa-a-ther!" said Michael, throwing up eyes and hands.

"Divil a lie in it. 'Twas six hundhred, I believe."

"Holy Moses preserve us!"

"An' the rivinue is millions an' millions o' pounds."

"The saints in glory!"

"An' wid Home Rule we'd have all that for Oireland."

"Julius Saysar an' Nibuchadnizzar!"

"Forty millions o' goolden sovereigns, divil a less."

"Thunder an' ouns, but ye startle me!"

"An' we're losin' all that"--

"Save _an'_ deliver us!"

"Becase the English takes it"--

"Holy Virgin undefiled!"

"To pay peelers an' sojers"--

"Bloody end to thim!"

"To murther and evict us"--

"Lord help us!"

"An' collect taxes an' rint."

"Hell's blazes!"

Ten minutes after this conversation under my window Michael adroitly
introduced the subject of postal profits in Ireland. I told him there
was an ascertained loss of L50,000 a year, which the new Legislature
would have to make up somehow. Michael bore the change with fortitude.
The loss of forty millions plus fifty thousand would have upset many a
man, but Michael only threw up his eyes and said very softly--

"Heavenly Fa-a-ther!"

Westport, June 6th.

No. 32.--HOME RULE AND IRISH IMMIGRATION.

A bright country town with a big green square called The Mall,
bordered by rows of great elm trees and brilliantly whitewashed
houses. The town is about a mile from the station, and the way is
pleasant enough. Plenty of trees and pleasant pastures with thriving
cattle, mansions with umbrageous carriage-drives, and the immense mass
of Croagh Patrick fifteen miles away towering over all. The famous
mountain when seen from Castlebar, is as exactly triangular as an
Egyptian pyramid, or the famous mound of Waterloo. Few British heights
have the striking outline of Croagh Patrick, which may be called the