, but the gombeen man would never lend money to
promote industry. Other plans for the development of Dungloe were
discussed, but the expense of the cartage of surplus products on the toy
Lough Swilly road, and the impossibility of getting freight boats into the
undredged harbor, were lead to rising ambition.

"Parliament is not interested in public improvements for Dungloe," smiled
Mr. Gallagher. "I suppose if I were a British member of parliament I would
not want to hand out funds for the projection of a harbor in a faraway
place like this. Irish transportation will not be taken in hand until
Ireland can control her own economic policy."

As the darkness closed in about our little fire the talk turned somehow to
tales of the fairies of Donegal, and Mr. Gallagher chuckled:

"Some persons about here still believe in the good people."

Then gentle Mrs. Gallagher, conscious of a benevolent force close at hand,
began simply:

"Well, don't you think perhaps--"

[Footnote 1. "To the Masters of Dublin--An Open Letter." By AE. _The
Irish Times_, Oct. 17, 1913.]

V

THE CATHOLIC CHURCH AND COMMUNISM

THE LIMERICK SOVIET

A soviet supported by the Catholic Church--that was the singular spectacle
I found when I broke through the military cordon about the proclaimed city
of Limerick.

The city had been proclaimed for this reason: Robert Byrne, son of a
Limerick business man, had been imprisoned for political reasons. He fell
ill from the effects of a hunger strike,[1] and was sent to the hospital in
the Limerick workhouse. A "rescue party" was formed. In the melee that
followed, Robert Byrne and a constable were killed. Then according to a
military order, Limerick was proclaimed because of "the attack by armed men
on police constables and the brutal murder of one of them."

At Limerick Junction we were locked in our compartments. There were few on
the train. Two or three school boys with their initialed school caps. Two
or three women drinking tea from the wicker train baskets supplied at the
junction. In the yards of the Limerick station, the train came to a dead
stop. Then the conductor unlocked compartments, while a kilted Scotch
officer, with three bayonet-carrying soldiers behind him, asked for
permits. At last we were pulled into the station filled with empty freight
trucks and its guard of soldiers. Through the dusk beyond the rain was
slithering.

"Sorry. No cab, miss," said a constable. "The whole c