the Famine, and when in another part of the country, I was obliged, on my way to my house, to pass the house of a poor blacksmith; and often at night, as I passed, I heard him and his family reciting the Rosary.  I told him one day how much edified I was at this.  The poor fellow replied with great earnestness:  ’Sir, as long as I have life in me I’ll say the Rosary, and I’ll tell you why.  In the Famine times, my family and myself were starving.  One night the children were crying with the hunger, and there was no food to give them.  By way of stopping their cries they were put to bed, but, after a short sleep, they awoke with louder cries for food.  At length, I recommended that all of us, young and old, should join in saying the Rosary.  We did; and before it was ended a woman came in, whose occupation was to deal in bread, and she had a basketful with her.  I explained our condition to her, and asked her to give me some bread on credit.  She did so, and from that day to this we never felt hunger or starvation; and from that day to this I continue to say the Rosary, and will, please God, to the end of my life.’”

The news came from Sligo, through the public journals, that the Famine was carrying off hundreds and thousands there, and that the work left undone by the Famine would be finished by pestilence.  The Workhouse was described as a pesthouse, and the guardians in terror had abandoned it.  The following short note will give a better idea of the state of this part of the country than any lengthened description:—­

“Riverston, 8th Feb.

“SIR,—­Half-a-dozen starvation deaths have been reported to Mr. Grant this evening, and he directs me to write to you to request you will attend here early to-morrow morning to hold inquests.

“JAMES HAY, Head Constable.

“Alexander Burrows, Esq.”

But things were much worse than was revealed by this note.  Mr. Burrows was quite unequal to the work he had to do.  In one day, although he tired three horses, he succeeded in holding only five inquests.  Poor progress indeed, inasmuch as there were FORTY dead bodies in the district of Managharrow alone, awaiting him!  One of the cases, that of Owen Mulrooney, was a moving one.  He was a young, muscular man, in the prime of life.  He had a wife and five young children.  Here is the substance of his wife’s depositions at the inquest held upon his remains.  She sold all her little furniture for ten shillings, and with this sum she and her five children left home to make her way to England, as she thought her husband would be able to support himself, if unencumbered by her and the family.  The weather became cold and rainy; and when she had got as far as Enniskillen, the children took cramps, and she had to retrace her steps by slow degrees, and seek again her desolate home.  Meantime, the public works, upon which her husband had been employed, were stopped, and he was at once reduced to starvation.