t it.
"But, Father M'Fadden," I said, "I am told you are a practical
agriculturist and engineer, and that you have contrived to get excellent
work done by the people here, dividing them off into working squads, and
assigning so many perches to so many--surely then you must understand
better than a dozen members of Parliament what they can be got to do?"
He smiled at this, and finally admitted that he had a plan of his own.
It was that the Government should advance sums for reclaiming the land.
"The people could live on part of their earnings while thus employed,
and invest the surplus in sheep to be fed on the hill pastures. When the
reclamation was effected the families could be scattered out, and the
holdings increased. In this district alone there are 350 holdings of
reclaimable land of 20 acres each, the reclamation of which, according
to a competent surveyor, "would pay well." And the district could be
improved by creating employment on the spot, establishing factories,
developing fisheries, giving technical education, and encouraging
cottage industries, which are so vigorously reviving in this district
owing to the benevolent efforts of the Donegal Industrial Fund."
Father M'Fadden spoke freely and without undue heat of his trial, and
gave us a piquant account of his arrest.
This was effected at Armagh, just as he was getting into an early
morning train. A sergeant of police walked up as the train was about to
start, and asked--
"Are you not Father M'Fadden of Gweedore?"
"What interest have you in my identity?" responded the priest.
"Only this, sir," said the officer, politely exhibiting a warrant.
"I had been in Armagh the previous day," said Father M'Fadden,
"attending the month's memory of the late deceased Primate of All
Ireland, Dr. M'Gettigan, and stayed at a private residence, that of
Surgeon-Major Lavery, not suspecting that while enjoying the genial
hospitality of the Surgeon-Major my steps were dogged by a detective,
and that gentleman's house watched by police."
Of the trial Father M'Fadden spoke with more bitterness. His eyes glowed
as he exclaimed, "Can you imagine that they refused me bail, when bail
had been allowed to such a felon as Arthur Orton? Why should I have
been locked up over two Sundays, for ten days, when I offered to pledge
my honour to appear?" He made no other complaint of the magistrate, and
none of the prosecutor, Mr. Ross. He praised his own lawyer, too, but he
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