ena, masses of
beautiful salmon-and rose-coloured granite actually trend into the
tidewater, and at Burtonport proper is a promontory of that
richly-mottled granite which I had supposed to be the peculiar heritage
of Peterhead, and which is now largely exported from Scotland to the
United States. Why should not this Irish granite be shipped directly
from Donegal to America, there to be built up into cathedrals, and
shaped into monuments for the Exiles of Erin? All these formations which
we have seen present themselves in great cubical blocks, so jointed that
they may be detached without blasting, with great comparative ease, and
with little of the waste which results from the squaring of shapeless
masses. At the same time, as we saw while coming from Gweedore, the
many lakes of this region offer all the water-power necessary for
polishing-works, columnar lathes, and the general machinery used in
developing such quarries. Without being an expert in granites, I have
seen enough of the granite works at home to feel quite sure that a
moderate and judiciously managed investment here ought to return a
handsome result. If the National League is as well off as it is reputed
to be, it might go into this business open a new and remunerative
industry to the people of a "congested" district, and earn dividends
large enough to enable it to pay the expenses of the war against England
at Westminster, without drawing on the savings of the servant-girls in
America, The only person likely to suffer would be the "Gombeen man," if
the peasantry earned enough to pay off their debts to him, and stop the
flow of interest into his coffers.

At Burtonport we found the "Gombeen man," of Dungloe, represented by a
very large "store." He runs steamers between this place and various
ports on the Scottish and Irish coasts, bringing in goods and taking out
the crops which his debtors turn over to him.

This Burtonport "store" towers high above the modest home of the parish
priest, Father Walker. To our great regret he was absent on parochial
duty, but his niece very kindly welcomed us into his modest study, where
we left a note begging him to honour us with his company at dinner in
Dungloe.

Mr. Hammond, too, was absent, so after paying our respects to his wife,
we drove back to Dungloe, and walked about the village till dark,
chatting with the good-natured, civil people. The local sensation here
they tell us is not the trial of the priests at Dunf