egion
of the "Rosses," reputed the most woe-begone part of the Gweedore
district. This is the scene of a curious tale told about Father M'Fadden
of Gweedore, by his ill-wishers in these parts, to the effect that he
advises English Members of Parliament and other "sympathising" visitors
who come here to make a pilgrimage to "the Bosses," where, no matter at
what time of day they appear, they invariably find sundry of the people
sitting in their huts and eating stewed seaweed out of iron pots. I
cannot vouch for this tale, but certainly I have seen no people here of
either sex, or of any age, who look as if they lived on stewed seaweed.
Another person at Falcarragh told us, as an illustration of the
influence exerted by Father M'Fadden of Gweedore, in this parish, over
which he has no proper authority, that, in obedience to an intimation
from him, the persons whose seats in the chapel had been occupied on two
successive Sundays by the policemen now stationed here, yesterday
refused to allow the policemen to occupy them, the only exception being
in the case of a man who had been arrested at the same time with Father
Stephens, and who had been so well treated by the police, that he felt
bound to repay their courtesy by offering one of them his seat.

CHAPTER III.

DUNGLOE, _Tuesday, Feb. 7._--We rose early this morning at Gweedore; the
sun shining so brightly that we were forced to drop the window-shades at
breakfast, while I read my letter from Rome, telling me of the bitter
cold there, and of a slight snow-fall last week. Here the birds were
singing, and the air was as soft and exhilarating as that of an April
morning in the Highlands of Mexico or Costa Rica.

Our host gave us a capital car, with a staunch nag and a wide-awake
jarvey, thanks to all which I found the thirteen miles drive to this
place too short. No doubt it will be a great thing for Donegal when
"light railways" are laid down here. But I pity the traveller of the
future here, if he is never to know the delight of traversing these wild
and picturesque wastes in such weather as we have had to-day, on a car,
well-balanced by a single pleasant companion, drinking, as he goes,
deep draughts of the Atlantic air! Truly on a jaunting-car "two are
company and three are none." You have almost the free companionship of a
South American journey in the saddle, jumping off to walk, when you
like, more freely still.

We drove near the house of the "beauty of