hildren. Where they all slept was a puzzle, as only one bed
was visible. The hens went whir-r-r-up, and perched on the bedstead,
when the lady smiled and wished me Good Evening. She looked strong and
in good going order. The Achilese say Good Evening all day long. A
young girl was grinning in the next doorway, a child of fourteen or
fifteen she seemed. "Ye wouldn't think that was a married woman, would
ye now," said a neighbour, with pardonable pride. "Aye, but she is,
though, an' a foin lump iv a son ye have, haven't ye, Maureen." Mr.
Peter Griffin, once a land commissioner, told me that a boy having
applied for the fixing of a judicial rent, the commissioners expressed
their surprise upon learning that he was married. "Arrah, now," said
the applicant, "sure 'tis not for the sake of the bit that the crathur
would ate that a boy need be widout one o' thim!"

In Achil, as elsewhere, the better people are certain that the Home
Rule Bill will never become law. From their point of view, the thing
seems too absurd to be possible. They are face to face with a class of
Irishmen, among whom civilisation seems to have made no perceptible
progress for centuries, who scorn every improvement, and are so tied
and bound down by aboriginal ignorance and superstition as to be
insensible to everything but their ancient prejudices. It cannot be
possible, they argue, that Ireland should be given over to the
dominion of these people, who, after all, are in the matter of
advancement and enlightenment fairly representative of the bulk of the
voters for Home Rule all over the country. The civilised community of
Achil are unable to realise the possibility of such a surrender. They
do not discuss the measure, but rather laugh at it. An able business
man said:--

"We get the daily papers a little old, no doubt, but we follow them
very closely, and we concur in believing that Mr. Gladstone will in
the long run drop the bill. We think he will turn round and say,
'There now. That's all I can do. Haven't I done my best? Haven't I
kept my promise? Now, you can't blame me. The Irishmen see it coming,
and they will get out of it as much dramatic effect as possible. The
party organs are already urging them to open rupture with the
Government. Compulsion is their game, and no doubt, with Gladstone, it
is the most likely game to pay. But he might rebel. He might grow
tired of eating Irish dirt; he might pluck up spirit enough to tell
these bullies who a