old houses have disappeared, and those that remain are mostly now tenements of the poor.  Not so very long ago Galway had a trans-Atlantic steamship service, and when the railway was opened in 1851, there was opened also a fine hotel adjoining the station, which the company had built, chiefly for trans-Atlantic business, at a cost of 30,000 pounds.  It may be that better times are in store.  Some day great harbour works will adorn the bay of Galway, from which fine steamers, forming part of an Imperial route to our Dominions and beyond, shall sail, and shorten the Atlantic voyage.  A tunnel too, uniting Great Britain and Ireland, may be made, which all will agree, is “a consummation devoutly to be wished.”

Galway is the gateway to Connemara, and Connemara is one of the best places under the sun for a healthy and enjoyable holiday.  To be sure the sun does not always shine when expected, but he is seen much oftener than is generally believed.  Of course, it sometimes rains, but the rain never lasts long, for no place has such quick and surprising climatic changes as the west of Ireland or such enchanting atmospheric effects.  I soon became enamoured of Connemara, and for several years, in whatever time I could call my own, explored its mountain roads and valleys, sometimes on horseback, sometimes afoot, and sometimes on bicycle or outside car.  The construction of our “Balfour” extension line from Galway to Clifden, begun in 1891 and finished in 1895, often called me on business to the wilds it penetrated, and gladly I always answered the call.  Sometimes on these excursions one had to rough it a little, for hotel accommodation was scarce and scanty in some of the districts, but in one’s early forties such trifles scarcely count.

As soon as I took up office at Broadstone, Sir Ralph informed me I was to be chairman of the Midland Great Western Benefit Society, which was partly a sick fund, partly a pension fund and applied to all the wages staff.  It was managed by a committee of twelve, half of whom were appointed by the directors and half by the employees.  Gladly I undertook a post which would bring me into close touch with the men.  I made a point of never, if I could help it, being absent from a committee meeting; nor, more particularly, from the annual general meeting of the society when I had to give an address.  It was always to me a pleasure to meet the men, to learn their views, and to help them as far as I could.  This they soon discovered, and I had the satisfaction of knowing that I was liked and trusted.  Early in life I had learned to sympathise with the wants and wishes of others, and sympathy I found increased one’s power of usefulness.  By sympathy I do not mean agreeing always with the men and their views, and I never hesitated to strongly express to them my own convictions, and rarely it was that they ever in the least resented the plainest speaking.  I believe if the responsible leaders of labour would follow