A DELEGATE OF THE NATIONAL LEAGUE 19 



into a mind divided against itself shall not be 

 wanting. 



The chapel in which the parish hears its Mass said 

 once a week is a building set on a hill, presenting its 

 whitewashed sides and blank windows as a spectacle 

 for much surrounding country. Brown mountains 

 look to it across a ribbon of lake, a wide expanse of 

 bog spreads sombre-hued to the bases of the nearer 

 slopes, and eastward, between lake and lake, is a weird 

 stretch of country where the rocks stand thicker in 

 every field till greenness is crushed out, and desolation 

 stark and stony meets the horizon. Straggling from 

 and through such improbable surroundings comes on 

 each Sunday a congregation that is quite enough for 

 the capabilities of the chapel, converging from all 

 points of the compass in Sunday frieze or red petti- 

 coats, in numbers which might seem imposing to a 

 man whose world they represent. Picture, then, on 

 a Sunday of some years ago, the Delegate among this 

 company, folded in with the rest of the flock by four 

 whitewashed walls, and occupying a position by no 

 means obscure; having, in fact, laid his hat by the 

 altar-rails, and stationed himself not further from it 

 than is usual. Mass having been said, some matters 

 not strictly ecclesiastical are touched on in the address 

 tliat follows, and these finally come under discussion 

 of a general sort. They at length, and with much 

 admixture of personal allusion and detail, merge 

 themselves into question relating to the demesne lands 

 mentioned elsewhere, and the propriety of allowing a 

 certain grazier to rent them for his cattle. There is 

 apparently but one mind among the disciples of 

 liberty, and one word expresses it — boycott; but 

 that things may be done with due decorum, the 

 spiritual adviser puts the matter to the vote. The 

 equivalent for assent in the Irish language marks 



