next
generation, and so on and so on for ever and ever, world without end."

"And the worst of it is," the priest said, "while the people are
earning their living on these roads their fields will be lying idle,
and there will be no crops next year."

Father MacTurnan began to think of the cardinals and the transaction of
business in the Vatican; cardinals and ministers alike are the dupes of
convention. Only those who are estranged from habits and customs can
think straightforward.

"If, instead of insisting on these absurd roads, the Government would
give me the money, I should be able to feed the people at a cost of
about a penny a day, and they would be able to sow their potatoes. And
if only the cardinals would consider the rescission of the decree on
its merits Ireland would be saved from Protestantism."

Some cardinal was preparing an answer--an answer might be even in the
post. Rome might not think his letter worthy of an answer.

A few days afterwards the inspector called to show him a letter he had
just received from the Board of Works, and Father James had to write
many letters and had to go to Dublin, and in the excitement of these
philanthropic activities the emigration question was forgotten. He was
talking to the inspector about the possibility of obtaining a harbour
when the postman handed him a letter.

"This is a letter from Father Moran. The Bishop wishes to see me. We
will continue the conversation to-morrow. It is eight miles to
Rathowen, and how much further is the Palace?"

"A good seven," said the inspector. "You're not going to walk it, your
reverence?"

"Why not? In four hours I shall be there." He looked at his boots
first, and hoped they would hold together; and then he looked at the
sky, and hoped it would not rain.

The sky was dim; all the light seemed to be upon the earth; a soft,
vague sunlight floated over the bog. Now and again a yellow-hammer rose
above the tufts of coarse grass and flew a little way. A line of
pearl-coloured mountains showed above the low horizon, and he had
walked eight miles before he saw a pine-wood. Some hundred yards
further on there was a green field, but under the green sod there was
peat, and a man and a boy were cutting it. The heather appeared again,
and he had walked ten miles before he was clear of whins and heather.

He walked on, thinking of his interview with the Bishop, and was nearly
at the end of his journey when he noticed that one of hi