cake of bees'-wax?
Would you like to be pitchforked down headlong to Limbo,
With the Pope standing by with his two arms akimbo?
No matter who starves, plank down on the spot,
Pounds, shillings, and pence; we'll take all that you've got.

The poem breathes the true spirit of Separatism-cum-Sacerdotalism.

Newport (Co. Mayo), June 15th.

No. 36.--IRISH IMPROVIDENCE THE STUMBLING BLOCK.

The further journey from Newport to Mulranney on the _Gazette_ special
engine was yesterday delayed for a few hours by the announcement that
during the night part of the line had sunk into a bog--a circumstance
which might have seemed unusual and ominous to English engineers, but
which Mr. Lionel Vaughan Bennett regarded as a mere matter of daily
routine, hardly worth more than a passing mention. There was nothing
for it but to take another walk round Newport, and after further
admiring the great wall holding up the embankment opposite the
station--a colossal work executed under great difficulties--to look at
the surrounding landscape. Those who are interested in engineering may
like to know the dimensions of this wall, which is two hundred feet
long, thirty-five feet high, and ten feet thick at the base, tapering
off to a thickness of five feet at the top, and is built of a fine
limestone quarried from the railway cutting a little further out. The
view from either of the ridges between which the town is built, is
magnificent, mountain, valley, sea, and river contributing to the
effect. From one ridge you see Clew Bay and the Croagh Patrick range,
with an immense tract of country of varied appearance. From the other,
immediately above the station, an enormous valley stretches away to
the Bogagh mountain in front and the peaked summit of Lettermoughra on
the left. At the latter point of view are some wooden cabins which the
Saxon might mistake for pigsties or small cowsheds until he discovered
they were inhabited by patriots, keen on Home Rule and charitable
coppers. Beware of civility in these parts. From casual passers-by it
nearly always means an appeal for alms, and after a few days'
experience you are apt to fall into misanthropy. Some of these beggars
have a fine dramatic way of opening the conversation. A hale and
seemingly able-bodied man of fifty or thereabouts came up carrying a
wheel, which he dropped when about ten yards away with the fervently
uttered exclamation--

"God help the poor--owld--man!"