a piece for his potatoes, or for his oats, takes possession
when he puts in his seed, and delivers up possession when he gets his
crop off the ground. They pay, I think, because they have not the land
long enough to long for it altogether."

I climbed the hill behind the Arran Hotel in company with the
proprietor, Mr. Timony, who also runs several large shops in Donegal.
The view is magnificent, extending in one direction to Carnowee and
the Blue Stack mountains, in another far over the wood-fringed bay,
and southward to the Benbulben range, terminated by a steep descent
like the end of a house. Mr. Timony is a Romanist, but is strongly
opposed to Home Rule, which in his opinion would lead to endless
trouble and confusion, and would, bring distress on the district, and
not prosperity. The hill was covered with mushrooms, which were
rotting unregarded. Mine host confessed that he did not know the
edible from the poisonous fungi, and said that the peasants of Donegal
were in the same case. "There are tons of these things on the
mountains, but no one gathers them. They would be afraid to go near
them for fear they would drop down dead on the spot." He showed me a
large stock of hand-woven cloth made by the peasantry, who, to their
credit, have mastered the process from beginning to end, and with
their rude appliances produce a good-looking article, of which the
only fault is that it can never be worn out. Irishmen will not buy it,
but England is an excellent customer, and the trade, already large, is
rapidly increasing. Good tweed, twenty-seven inches wide, may be
bought in Donegal for a shilling a yard, and stout twills for
one-and-sixpence. The people shear the wool, card it, spin it, dye the
yarn made from herbs growing on the sea-shore, on the rocks, in the
meadows, and weave it into cloth, which is much in vogue for shooting
suits and ladies' dresses. The pieces run from twenty to seventy yards
long, and whole families are engaged on the work, which commands a
ready sale at the wholesale depots, the price being regulated by the
fineness, evenness of texture, and equality of tint throughout. The
Nationalist advice to burn everything English except English coals, is
as hollow as other patriotic utterances. But for England the Donegal
peasantry would have no market for their goods. "It isn't fine enough
for Irishmen," said Mr. Timony. "They prefer English shoddy. They like
the smooth-looking cloth such as I have seen ma