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ested in the man for whom so many churches, streets, and boys have been named.

We stop a little while outside the church to enjoy the marvelous view which is had from this spot. Hills and valleys, plains and villages, can be seen all about us. The verdure is of a darker green than we have ever seen. On our way back to Belfast one of our boys is humming,

Upon the top of a tall green hill
St. Patrick preached a sarmint;
He drove the frogs into the bogs
And banished all the varmint.

"He did a good deal more than drive the snakes out of Ireland," remarks a gentleman who is seated in the same compartment with us. "A great many stories have been told about him which are not true; but he did more for Ireland than any other man has done."

"Please tell us about him," urges one of our party.

"His real name was Patricius, and he probably came from either Gaul (France) or Scotland. When he was a young man, he was captured, brought to Ireland, and sold as a slave. For six years he worked as a shepherd for his master, and in that time he became very fond of the Irish people. He finally escaped from the island, went to France and studied hard for several years. He came back to Ireland as a missionary. He began his work at Downpatrick, and from there he went all over the island."

"What did he do?"

"When he began his work here the people were divided into many little tribes, that kept the island in a state of war most of the time. The religion of the Druids, which was general, required the offering of human sacrifices. Largely through his influence, all these conditions were changed for the better. It is not surprising that the people of Ireland, who are warm-hearted, love St. Patrick as they do; nor that so many Irish boys have his name."

When the stranger learns that our party is eager to visit one of the great linen mills of Belfast, he gives a card to one of the boys and invites him to bring his friends on the following morning, promising to show us through a linen mill in which he himself is interested. He explains, too, that Belfast is the greatest linen centre in the world.

"Why is linen the leading industry?" inquires one of our boys.

"Soil and climate are the first cause. Flax requires much moisture, and Ireland surely has that. For the past five years we have had an average of 205 rainy days each year. That fact explains, too, why Ireland is the

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Emerald Isle, and why our grass is so green. You never will be able to develop a linen industry in America." "Why not?"

"The country is too dry. You can grow enough flax to provide flaxseed for oil, poultices, and a few such things. You can make some coarse linen towels; but that is about all. Flax becomes brittle when it is dry. America must change her weather if she wishes to compete with us."

We spend the rest of the day, after we have returned, in visiting the university at Belfast and the famous technical school, which has had so much to do in developing the industries of the city and the adjacent country. We drive through streets on which we see imposing public buildings. We stop at the Bank of Ireland to secure money on our letter of credit. Much of the paper money we receive, we notice is that of the Bank of Ireland (not of the Bank of England), but we are informed that it will pass current anywhere in the Emerald Isle.

We visit the great post office, and walk through some of the public buildings. We are told that the Lord Mayor of Belfast and the other city officers do not receive any salaries. The city, too, owns its water works, its lights, and its trolley lines.

At Royal Avenue we alight and walk to our hotel. The streets are filled with busy people, who almost make us think we are in an American city. Indeed, the streets and buildings remind us of home more than do those of any city we have visited in the British Isles.

Following us are several boys and girls who are very persistent in begging us to "spare a cop." Every one of these little beggars has a brass medal which is displayed, showing that they are licensed to beg. To avoid them we enter a store, where even our boys are inter

ested in the beautiful Irish laces which, at our request, are shown us. These laces are mostly hand-made, the work of girls in the convents, or of lonely women in their peasant homes. Only within recent years have the laces been made in factories, chiefly at Dublin and Limerick.

Our girls are so deeply interested, and make so many purchases, that it is late when we return to our hotel. The entire day, however, has been so full of pleasures that no one complains.

Early the next morning our party presents itself at the office of the man who has promised to take us to his

great linen mill. We are most cordially welcomed. Jaunting cars are secured, and we start for the mill. These jaunting cars are novel to us. Each has only two wheels. There are two seats for passengers, one on each side of the car. The girls are timid because the motion is strange to them. One must learn to brace one's feet properly, or a sudden jolt may toss one to the ground. Only one horse is used for each car, and the driver has a seat in front of his passengers.

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AN IRISH JAUNTING CAR

Our horse is small, but he goes briskly. The car darts down one street and then turns sharply into another. The houses now are less attractive than some we have already seen in Belfast. There are scores of good-natured children in the street, who dart out of the way of the jaunting cars and call to us, "Spare a cop!" This call we learn is very common in Ireland.

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JAUNTING CARS

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One of our boys, seated near the driver, is much interested in our conveyance. He has been examining it, and now turns to the driver and inquires, "How much does a jaunting car like this cost?"

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"I'm going to have one, if that is all!"

"He means £40, about $200," laughingly suggests one of our party. .

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It is so plain and simple it can't cost that much!" "'Tis the foine material," explains the driver. “Thin, think of the skilled workmen that must be after doin' th' foine work. There's th' balance, an' th' -"

"Will you sell this for £40?" interrupts one of the boys.

"Oi will that!" exclaims the driver. "'T is a bargain ye'd be gettin'! There be carrs at £8, but not loike this, sorr."

The man's eyes are twinkling with fun. As we have now come to the end of our ride, he touches his hat with his whip when one of our party gives him a shilling as a "tip." As he turns away, he calls: " If iver ye want a furst-class jaunting carr, it's the loikes o' me wad be glad t' sill it to yez."

Our party, led by our friendly conductor, now enters the mill. Both the boys and the girls are deeply interested, and ask numerous questions. We learn that there are many divisions of the linen industry. Obtaining the fibre, spinning the yarns, weaving the threads into cloth, and bleaching are distinct occupations. In the fields the flax is planted in April, and pulled or cut in July. It is then sunk in water, until covered, weighted down by stones, and left for three weeks. The process is called "retting." The flax is next spread on grassy fields to be sun-dried for about two weeks. When it is thoroughly

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