"Hm-m-m!" grunted the salesman sceptically.
"I'll admit," went on the other, "that there are and always have been many Irishmen only too eager to take alms—more shame to them. There have always been many ready to sell themselves for a good position under government, and to sell their country too, if need be. We have our share of patriots, but we have more than our share of traitors, I sometimes think. But it isn't by them the country should be judged. What true Irishmen want is the right to stand alone like men and fight their own battles, and in fighting them, the north and south will forget their foolish quarrel and become friends again as they should be. They aren't half as far apart, even now, as some would have you believe. Most of this talk about Ulster is the black work of men who make their living out of it, who care nothing for Ireland, and take advantage of every little by-election to stir the fire and keep the pot bubbling."
I remarked that this ceaseless agitation over elections was unknown in America, where all the elections were held on one day, after which there were no more elections for a year.
The priest stared at me in astonishment.
"Did I understand you to say," he asked, "that the elections all over your country are held on the same day?"
"Yes," I said; "on a day early in November, fixed by law."
"I don't see how you manage it."
"It isn't hard to manage—it's really very simple."
"But where do you get enough police?"
"Enough police?"