y for
Strabane and Newtown-Stewart. The morning was clear, but cold. On
leaving Dungloe we drove directly into a region of reclaimed land, where
improvements of various kinds seemed to be going on. All this our
jarvey informed us, with a knowing look, belonged to Mr. Sweeney.

"Was he a squire of this country?" I asked innocently.

"A squire of this country, sorr? He is just Mr. Sweeney, the Gombeen
man; he and his brothers, they all came here from where I don't know."

An energetic man, certainly, Mr. Sweeney, and not likely, I should
think, to allow the National League, to push matters here to the point
of nationalising the land of Donegal, if he can prevent it. In the
highway we met, two or three miles out of Dungloe, a very trim dainty
little lady, in a long, well-fitting London waterproof ulster, with a
natty little umbrella in her hand, walking merrily towards the town. How
weatherwise she was soon appeared, the rain coming up suddenly, and
coming down sharply, in the whirling way it has among the hills
everywhere. The scenery was desolate, but grand. Countless little lochs
give sparkle and life to it. Everywhere the granite. About Doocharry, a
romantic little spot, where Lord Cloncurry has a fishing-box in the
heart of a glorious landscape, masses crop out of a rich red granite,
finer in colour than any we had previously seen. In that neighbourhood
the wastes of Donegal take on an aspect which recalls, though upon quite
a different key in colour, the inimitable beauty of those treeless
North-western highlands of Scotland, upon which Nature has lavished all
the wealth of her palette. Vast spaces of brown and red and gold shimmer
away under the softly luminous mountain atmosphere to the dark blues and
purples of the hills. We passed Glen Veagh again, but from quite a
different point of view, which gave us a beautiful picture of Lough
Veagh in its length, and of the smiling pastoral landscape upon its
further shore.

As we drew near the eastern boundary of Donegal, hedges and civilised
agriculture reappeared. With these we came upon mud cottages, such as I
had not seen in Donegal, being the huts provided for their labourers by
the tenant-farmers, whose comfortable stone-houses and out-buildings
stood well back under the long ranges of the hills.

We passed through much striking scenery, perhaps the finest point being
a magnificent Gap in the hills, guarded and defined by three colossal
headlands, one of them a