This file was produced from images generously made available by theCanadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions. 

THE LETTERS OF "NORAH" ON HER TOUR THROUGH IRELAND, BEING A SERIES OF LETTERS TO THE MONTREAL "WITNESS"

AS SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT TO IRELAND

COMPLETE LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS TO THE PUBLICATIONOF MRS. McDOUGAL'S LETTERS FROM IRELAND. 

Monsignore Farrelly. Belleville, Ont. $ 5. 00Wm. Wilson, Montreal 10. 00Edward Murphy, Montreal 5. 00Joseph Cloran, " 5. 00Timothy Fogarty, " 5. 00Robert McCready, " 5. 00James Stewart, " 5. 00T. J. Potter, " 5. 00John Mahan, Paris (France) 5. 00Henry Hogan, Montreal 5. 00Bernard Tansey, " 2. 00B. Connaughton, " 2. 00F. G. Gormely, " 2. 00J. C. Fleming, Toronto 2. 00C. D. Hanson, Montreal 2. 00D. McEntyre Jr. , " 2. 00Ald. D. Tansey, " 4. 00Wm. Farrell, " 2. 00M. Avahill, " 2. 00E. P. Ronavae " 2. 00Michael Sullivan, " 1. 00James Guest " 2. 00M. P. Ryan " 5. 00Joseph Dunn, Cote St. Paul 4. 00Owen McGarvey, Montreal 5. 00Daniel Murphy, Carillon, P. Q. 5. 00John Kelly " " 5. 00C. J. Doherty, Montreal 5. 00James McCready " 5. 00Andrew Colquhoun, Winnepeg 5. 00P. Cuddy, Montreal 5. 00W. S. Walker " 5. 00M. J. Quinn " 5. 00Rev. M. J. Stanton, Priest, Westport, Ont. 5. 00E. Stanton, Ottawa 5. 00J. Fogarty, Montreal 5. 00P. McLaughlin, Montreal 3. 00P. J. Ronayne, " 5. 00William Redmond, " 2. 00J. J. Milloy, " 2. 00C. Egan, " 2. 00John Cox, " 2. 00P. J. Durack, " 2. 00John McElroy, " 2. 00Michael Fern, " 2. 00J. I. Hayes, " 2. 00James Maguire, " 2. 00J. J. Curran, M. P. , " 2. 00Mrs. McCrank, " 2. 00Dr. W. H. Hingston, " 5. 00John B. Murphy, " 5. 00Tim. Kenna, " 2. 00Matthew Hicks, " 5. 00Patrick Wright, " 5. 00Wm. S. Harper, " 2. 00Richard Drake, " 1. 00James O'Brien, " 5. 00H. Hodgson, " 2. 00P. A. Egleson, Ottawa, Ont. 5. 00John Keane, " 2. 00B. J. Coghlin, Montreal 5. 00Henry Stafford, " 2. 00Mrs. P. McMahon " 2. 00P. Cadigan, Pembroke, Ont. 5. 00H. Heaton, Nebraska, U. S. . 50Thomas Simpson, Montreal 1. 00Alexander Seath, " 2. 00M. C. Mullarky, " 5. 00John Fahey, " 5. 00J. J. Arnton, " 5. 00Richard McShane, " 2. 00B. Emerson, " 2. 00J. D. Purcell, " 2. 00W. O'Brien " 5. 00

(Signed)

W. Wilson

_Treasurer "Norah's Letters" Fund. _

A TOUR THROUGH IRELAND

I. 

OFF--EXPERIENCES IN A PULLMAN CAR--HOARDING THE "ONTARIO"--THE CAPTAIN--THE SEA AND SEA-SICKNESS--IMAGININGS IN THE STORM--LANDING ATBIRKENHEAD. 

On January 27th I bade good-bye to my friends and set my face resolutelytowards the land whither I had desired to return. Knowing that sicknessand unrest were before me, I formed an almost cast-iron resolution, asSamantha would say, to have one good night's rest on that Pulman carbefore setting out on the raging seas. Alas! a person would persist infloating about, coming occasionally to fumble in my belongings in theupper berth. Prepared to get nervous. Before it came to that, I sat upand enquired if the individual had lost anything, when he disappeared. Lay down and passed another resolution. Some who were sitting up beganto smoke, and the fumes of tobacco floated in behind the curtains, clungthere and filled all the space and murdered sleep. Watched the heavydark shelf above, stared at the cool white snow outside, wished that allsmokers were exiled to Virginia or Cuba, or that they were compelled tobreathe up their own smoke, until the morning broke cold and foggy. 

Emerged from behind the curtains, and blessed the man who invented coldwater. Too much disturbed by the last night's dose of second-hand smokefor breakfast at Island Pond. The moist-looking colored gentleman whowas porter, turned back to Montreal before we reached Portland. Istrongly suspect that a friend had privately presented him with a fee tomake him attentive to one of the passengers, for he came twice with themost minute directions for finding the Dominion Line office, atPortland. Still his conscience was unsatisfied, for finally he came withthe offer of a tumbler full of something he called pure apple juice. There are some proud Caucasians who would not have found it so difficultto square a small matter like that with their consciences. 

It was pleasant to look at the comfortable homes on the line as wepassed along. Not one squalid looking homestead did we pass; every onesuch as a man might be proud to own. All honor to the State of Maine. 

The train was three hours late--it was afternoon when we arrived inPortland. Following the directions of my colored friend, I went up anextremely dirty stair into a very dirty office, found an innocent youngman smoking a cigar. He did not know anything, you know, so sat grimlydown to wait for the arrival of some one who did. Such a one soonappeared and took a comprehensive glance of the passenger as he took offhis overshoes. 

"Passenger for the 'Ontario, '" explained the innocent young man. 

"Take the passenger over to the ship, " said the energetic one, decidedly. "We will send luggage after you. How much have you?"

Explained, handed him the checks, and meekly followed my innocent guidedown the dirty stair, across a wide street, up some dirty-looking stepson to the wharf where the 'Ontario' lay, taking in her cargo. Large andstrong-looking, dingy white was she, lying far below the wharf. 

My guide enquired for the captain, who appeared suddenly from somewhere--a tall man with a resolute face and keen eye, gray as to hair andwhiskers, every inch a captain. I knew that his face--once a handsomeface, I am sure--had got that look of determination carved into it bydoing his duty by his ship and facing many a storm on God Almighty'ssea. I trusted him at once. 

Did not sail through the night as I expected, but were still in Portlandwhen morning came. We had fish for breakfast; found mine frozen beneaththe crisp brown outside. After breakfast went up on deck. The sky wasblue and bright, the air piercing cold. The town of Portland lookedclean and beautiful in the fair sunlight. It is a place that goesclimbing up hill. The floating ice and the liquid green water ruffledinto white on the crest of the swells, are at play together. The shipmoves out slowly, almost imperceptibly. Portland fades from a house-crowned hillside into a white line, darkness comes down. We are out atsea. 

The glass has gone down; the storm has come up; the sea tyrant has gothold of the solitary passenger and dandles her very roughly, singing"The Wreck of the 'Hesperus'" in a loud bass to some grand deep tune, alternating with the one hundred and third Psalm in Gaelic. Thepassenger holds on for dear life and wonders why the winds sing thosewords over and over again. 

Sabbath passes, day melts into night, night fades into day, the stormtosses the ship and sea-sickness tosses the passenger. The captainenquires, "Is that passenger no better yet?" Comes to see in hisdoctoral capacity, looks like a man not to be trifled with, feels thepulse, orders a mustard blister, brandy and ammonia, and scolds thepatient for starving, like a wise captain and kind man as he is. All theship stores are ransacked for something to tempt an appetite that isabove temptation; but the captain is absolute, and we can testify thateating from a sense of duty is hard work. It was delightful to get ridof an occasional apple on the sly to one of the ship's boys and berewarded with a surprised grin of delight. 

It is grand to lie on cushions on the companion-way and watch longrollers as they heave up and look in at the door-way. They rise rankupon rank, looking over one another's shoulders, hustling one another intheir boisterous play, like overgrown schoolboys, who will have fun atwhoever's expense. Sometimes one is pushed right in by his fellows, andfalls down the companion-way in a little cataract, and then the door isshut and they batter at it in vain. Then there is a great mopping up ofa small Atlantic. 

The storm roars without, and within the passenger lies day after daystudying the poetry of motion. There is one motion that goes to the tuneof "Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep, " but this rocking is so violentthat as one dashes from side to side, holding on to the bars above andthe edge of the berth, one is led to pity a wakeful baby rocked wickedlyby the big brother impatient to go to play. The tune changes, and it is"Ploughing the Raging Main, " and the nose of the plough goes down toodeep; then one is fastened to the walking beam of an engine and sways upand down with it. A gigantic churn is being churned by an ogre justunder our head, and the awful dasher plunges and creaks. Above all thewinds howl, and the waves roll, and sometimes slap the ship till sheshivers and leaps, and then the "Wreck of the Hesperus" recommences. Things get gloomy, the variations of storm grow monotonous, nothingdelights us, no wish arises for beef tea, nothing makes gruel palatable. Neither sun nor stars have been visible for some days; the only sunshinewe see is the passing smile of the ship's boys, who are almostconstantly employed baling out the Atlantic. 

It was the ninth night of storm. They say every ninth wave is largerthan the rest; the ninth night the wind roared louder than ever, theAlmighty's great guns going off. The ship staggered and reeled, struggling gallantly, answering nobly to the human will that held her toher duty, but shivering and leaping after every mighty slap of the madwaves. I got one glimpse at the waves through a cautiously opened door. I never thought they could climb upon one another's shoulders and reachup to heaven, a dark green wall of water ready to fall and overwhelm us, until I looked and saw the mountains of water all around. 

Land in sight on the 8th of February, the Fasnet rock, then the Irishcoast; the great rollers drew back into the bosom of the Atlantic: thewinged pilot boats appeared; the pilot climbed up the side out of thesea; we steamed over the harbor bar and stopped at Birkenhead on theCheshire side to land our fellow-passengers the sheep and oxen. 

I might have gone up to Liverpool but was advised to remain anothernight on board and go direct to the Belfast packet from the ship. Iconsidered this advice, found it good and took it. 

II. 

FROM LIVERPOOL TO BELFAST--IRELAND'S CONDITION DISCUSSED--EVICTIONS--ASUNDAY IN BELFAST. 

From Liverpool to Belfast, including a cup of tea, cost in all fourdollars and fifty cents. It seems ridiculous to a stranger that the carsand cabs always stop at a little distance from the steamers, so as toemploy a porter to lift a trunk for a few yards at each end of the shortjourney by cab. 

The kind steward of the "Ontario" came over to the packet to look afterhis passenger; had promised to see that passenger safely conveyed fromone steamer to the other, but, detained at home by sickness in thefamily, came back to the ship a few minutes too late, and then came overto explain and say good-bye. There could not possibly be a morecourteous set of men than the captain and officers of the steamship"Ontario. "

On the Belfast packet two ladies, one a very young bride on her way fromher home in South Wales to her new home in Belfast, were talking of thedanger of going to Ireland or living in it at the present disturbedtime. A gentleman in a grey ulster and blue Tam o'Shanter of portentousdimensions broke into the conversation by assuring the handsome youngbride that she would be as safe in green Erin as in the arms of hermother. Looking at the young lady it was easy to see that this speechwas involuntary Irish blarney, a compliment to her handsome face. "Youwill meet the greatest kindness here, you will have the heartiestwelcome on the face of the earth, " he continued. 

"But there is a great deal of disturbance, is there not?" asked hercompanion. 

"Oh, the newspapers exaggerate dreadfully--shamefully, to get up asensation in the interest of their own flimsy sheets. There is somedisturbance, but nothing like what people are made believe by thenewspaper reports. "

Old lady--"Why are Irish people so turbulent?"

Tam O'Shanter--"My dear lady, Ireland contains the best people and theworst in the world, the kindest and the cruelest. They are so emotional, so impulsive, so impressible that their warm hearts are easily swayed bydemagogues who are making capital out of influencing them. "

Old lady--"Making money by it, do you mean?"

Tam O'Shanter, with a decided set of his bonnet--"Making money of it!Yes, by all means. They have got up the whole thing to make money. Buthere in Belfast, where you are going, " with a bow to the bride, "all istranquil, all is prosperous. In fact all over the north there is thesame tranquillity, the same prosperity. "

Here, a new voice, that of an enthusiastic supporter of the Land League, joined in the conversation, and the controversy becoming personal theladies disappeared into the ladies' cabin. There was an echo of drunkenargument that was likely a continuation of the land question until thewind increased to a gale. The little boat tossed like a cork on thewaves; there was such a rattle of glass, such a rolling and bumping ofloose articles, such echoes of sickness, above all, the shock of wavesand the shriek of winds, and the land question was for the time beingswallowed up by the storm. 

Belfast, with its mud and mist, was a welcome sight. The dirty-facedporters who lined the quay and beckoned to us, and pointed to ourluggage silently, seemed to be a deputation of welcome to _terrafirma_. At a little distance from the line of porters the jauntingcars were stationed to convey passengers to the hotel. It did lookridiculous to see full-grown people take the long way round in thisfashion. 

At noon Saturday, the 19th of February, I had the blissful feeling ofrest connected with sitting in an easy chair before a coal fire, tryingto wake up to the blissful fact of being off the sea and in Ireland. 

On Sunday it was raining a steady and persistent rain; went through itto the Duncairn Presbyterian Church because it was near, and because Iwas told that the minister was one skilled to preach the gospel to thepoor. Found myself half an hour too early, so watched the congregationassemble. The Scottish face everywhere, an utter absence of anythinglike even a modified copy of a Milesian face. Presbyterianism in Ulstermust have kept itself severely aloof from the natives; there could havebeen no proselytizing or there would have been a mixture of facestypical of the absorption of one creed in another. 

Judging from the sentiments I have heard expressed by the sturdydescendants of King Jamie's settlers, the sympathy that must precede anyreasonably hopeful effort to win over the native population to an alienfaith has never existed here. There is a great social gulf fixed betweenthe two peoples, with prejudice guarding both sides. The history, thetraditions of either side is guarded and nourished in secret by one, openly and triumphantly by the other, with a freshness of strength thatis amazing to one who has been out of this atmosphere long enough tolook kindly on and claim kindred with both sides. Still there is aperceptible difference between these Hiberno-Scotch and their cousins ofScotland. Their faces have lost some of the concentrated look of areally Scottish congregation. They are not so thoroughly "locked up;"the _cead mille failte_ has been working into their bloodimperceptibly. The look of curiosity is kindly, and seems ready to meltinto hearty welcome on short notice. 

It is not the minister of the Duncairn Church who preaches, but areturned missionary, who tells us by what logical hair-splitting in theregions of Irish metaphysics he confounds Hindoo enquirers after truth, and argues them into the Christian religion. Pity the poor Hindoos uponwhom this man inflicts himself. In the afternoon I strayed into a smallSabbath-School where the Bible never was opened; heard a stirring Gospelsermon at night, and joined in a prayer-meeting and felt better. 

III. 

BELFAST--TEMPERANCE--"THE EVE OF A GREAT REBELLION"--THE POOR HOUSE--THE POLICE--COUNTY DOWN--MAKING ENDS MEET--WAITING FOR SOMETHING TOTURN UP. 

Belfast seems a busy town, bustle on her streets, merchandise on herquays. Did not meet one man on the streets with the hopeless look on hisface of the poor fellow who carried my trunk in Liverpool. There must bedistress however, for the mills are not running full time, and there areentertainments got up for the benefit of the deserving poor. I saw nosigns of intoxication on the streets, yet the number of whiskey shops isappalling. Had a conversation with a prominent member of the TemperanceLeague, who informed me that temperance was gaining ground in Belfast. "Half of the ministers are with us now; they used to, almost entirely, stand aloof. " But where are the rest?

The land question is the absorbing topic. Every one seems to admit thatthere is room for vast improvement in the land laws, that there has beenglaring injustice in the past. They acknowledge that rents are too highto be paid, and leave anything behind to support the farmer's family inany semblance of comfort. There is a very strong feeling against Mr. Parnell among the Protestants of the north. In fact they talk of himexactly as they did of Daniel O'Connell when in the height of his power. Many whisper to me that we are on the eve of a great rebellion. Onestrong-minded lady who informed me that she had come of a Huguenot stocktalked of the Land Leaguers as if they were responsible for therevocation of the Edict of Nantes: but she acknowledged that the landlaws were very unjust and needed reform. 

Visited the Poor House, a very noble building in well-kept grounds. Wenton purpose to see a sick person and did not go all over it. It was notthe right day, or something. It was very distressing to see the numberof able-bodied looking young men and rosy-cheeked women about thegrounds who begged for a halfpenny, and so many loungers in hall andcorridor--perhaps they were only visitors. If they were inmates therewas plenty of cleaning to be done--the smell in some parts was dreadful. In the hospital part the floors were very clean, and the head nurse, abright, cheery woman, seemed like sunshine among her patients. Sheshowed us all her curiosities, the little baby born into an overcrowdedworld on the street, the little one, beautiful as an angel, found on thestreet in a basket. It was very touching to see the beggar motherssparing from their own babies to nourish the little deserted waif. Apoor house is a helpless, hopeless mass of human misery. 

One thing that impresses a stranger here is the number of policemen;they are literally swarming everywhere. Very dandified as to dress andbearing, very vigilant and watchful about the eyes, with a doubleportion of importance pervading them all over as men on whom the peaceand safety of the country depend. These very dignified conservators ofthe peace are most obliging. Ask them any question of locality, or fordirection anywhere, and their faces open out into human kindness andinterest at once. 

Went out into County Down by rail about twenty miles. No words can dojustice to the beauty of the country, the cleanness of the roads, thetrimness of the hedges, and the garden-like appearance of the fields. The stations, as we passed along, looked so trim and neat. The houses ofsmall farmers, or laborers I suppose they might be, were not very neat. Many of them stood out in great contrast as if here was the border overwhich any attempt at ornament should not pass. 

On the train bound for Dublin was a little old woman travelling thirdclass like myself, who scraped an acquaintance at once in order to tellme of the disturbed state of the country. She emphasized everything witha wave of her poor worn gloves and a decided nod of her bonnet. 

"They are idle you know, they are lazy, they are improvident. They arenot content in the station in which it has pleased God to place them. Iknow all about these people. They are turbulent, they are rebellious;they want to get their good, kind landlords out of the country, and toseize on their property. It is horrid you know, horrid!" and the littleold lady waved her gloves in the air. "If they had a proper amount ofreligion they would be content to labor in their own station. I amcontent with mine, why not they with theirs? You understand that, "appealing to me. 

"Have you a small farm?" I enquired. 

"Indeed I have not, " said the little old lady with the greatest disgust, "I live on my money. "

It was quite evident I had offended her, for she froze into silence. AsI left the train at Tandragee she laid her faded glove on my arm andwhispered, "It is their duty to be content in their own station, is itnot?"

"If they cannot do any better, " I whispered back. 

"They cannot, " said the little old lady sinking back on her seattriumphantly. 

It is rather unhandy, that the names of the stations are called out by aperson on the platform outside the cars, instead of by a conductorinside. 

The manufacturing town of Gilford is a pretty, clean, neat, little placeclustered round the mills and the big house, like the old feudalretainers round the castle. Here, as in Belfast, a certain amount ofdistress must exist, for the mills are not running full time. 

The wages of a common operative here is twelve shillings (or threedollars) per week. If they have a family grown up until they are able towork at the mills, of course it adds materially to the income. Girls aremore precious than boys, I have heard, as being more docile and easierkept in clothing. They can earn about half wages, or six shillings (onedollar and a half) per week. Rents are about two shillings (or half adollar) per week. It takes one and sixpence for fuel. A young familywould keep the parents busy to make ends meet in the best of times. Incase of the mill running short time I should think they wouldpersistently refuse to meet. No signs of distress, not the least wereapparent anywhere. The mill hands trooping past looked clean, rosy andcheerful, and were decently clad. The grounds around the factory werebeautiful and very nicely kept, and beautiful also were the groundsabout the great house. I felt sorry that there were no little gardenplots about the tenement houses occupied by the operatives; so when hardtimes come they will have no potatoes or vegetables of their own to helpthem to tide over the times of scant wages. How I do wish that thelarge-hearted and generous proprietors of these works could take thismatter into consideration. 

People waiting at the station talked among themselves of hard times, offarms that were run down, that would not yield the rent, not to speak ofleaving anything for the tenants to live on. There was no complaint madeof the landlords; the land was blamed for not producing enough. Ofcourse, these people ought to know, but the fields everywhere lookedlike garden ground. The only symptoms of running down that I could seewere in some of the houses, two-roomed, with leaky-looking roofs and ageneral air of neglect. I must own, however, that houses of thisdescription were by far the fewest in number. At one station where westopped, one respectable-looking man asked of another, "Have you gotanything to do yet, Robert?" "Still waiting for something to turn up, "was the answer. This man was not at all of the Micawber type, but awell-brushed, decent-looking person with a keen peremptory face, evidently of Scottish descent. A group of such men came on the train, whose only talk was of emigrating if they only had the means. 

I have heard a great deal of talk of emigration among the people withwhom I have travelled since I landed, but have not heard one mention ofCanada as a desirable place to emigrate to. The Western States, theprairie lands, seem to be the promised land to everyone. One of thesewould-be emigrants took a flute out of his pocket and played the Exileof Erin. The talk of emigration stilled and a great silence fell on themall. There were some soldiers on the car, young men, boys in fact, whoseemed by the heavy marching order of their get-up to be going to jointheir regiment. Some of them struggled mannishly with the tears theyfain would hide. Truly the Irish are attached to the soil. I could nothelp wondering if these lads were ordered to foreign service, and onwhat soil they would lay down their heads to rest forever. 

Two persons near by, conversing in low tones on the state of thecountry, drew my attention to them. One was a sonsie good-wife with anyamount of bundles, the other a little old man with a face of almostsuperhuman wisdom. 

"The country will be saved mem, now; when the Coercion Bill has passedthe country will be saved, " said the old man. 

"There's a great deal too much fuss made about everything, " remarked thegood-wife. "Look at that boy ten years old taken up, bless us all! forwhistling at a man. "

"Did you take notice, mem, that the whistling was derisive, wasderisive, it was derisive. That is where it is, you see, " said the oldman with a slow, sagacious roll of his head. 

"I would not care what a wee boy could put into a whistle: it wasawfully childish for a man and a gentleman to take up just a wean for awhistle. "

"You see mem, they have to be strict and keep everything down. TheGovernment have ways of finding out things; they know all though, theydon't let on. There will be a bloody time, in my opinion. "

Oh, the wisdom with which the old man shook his head as he said this, adding in a penetrating whisper, "The times of '98 over again or worse. "

IV. 

LOYALTY IN THE "BLACK NORTH"--GENTLEMEN'S RESIDENCES--A MODEL IRISHESTATE--A GOOD MAN AND HIS WIFE--VISITING THE POOR. 

Down in the North the loyalty is intense and loud. An opinion favorableto the principles of the Land League it would be hardly prudent toexpress. Any dissatisfaction with anything at all is seldom expressedfor fear of being classed with these troublers of Ireland. 

The weather is very inclement, and has been ever since I landed. Snow, rain, hail, sleet, hard frost, mud, have alternated. Some days have beenone continuous storm of either snow or sleet. 

The roads through Antrim are beautifully clean and neat, not only on theline of rail but along the country roads inland. The land is surelybeautiful, exceedingly, and kept like a garden. The number of houses ofsome, nay of great, pretensions, is most astonishing. Houses set inspacious and well-kept grounds, with porter lodges, terraced lawns, conservatories, &c. , abound. They succeed one another so constantly thatone wonders how the land is able to bear them all, or by what means suchuniversal grandeur is supported. There is an outcry of want, of veryterrible hard times, but certainly the country shows no signs thereof. The great wonder to me is where the laborers who produce all thisneatness and beauty live? Where are the small farmers on whom the highrent presses so heavily? Few houses, where such could by any possibilitybe housed, are to be seen from the roadside. There are so very fewcottages and so very many gentlemen's houses that I am forced to believethat the peasantry have almost entirely disappeared. Yet I know theremust be laborers somewhere to keep the place so beautiful, Ballymena, always a bustling place, has spread itself from a thrivinglittle inland town into a large place of some 8, 000 inhabitants. Notwithstanding the depression in the linen trade, this town presents athriving, bustling appearance as it has always done. The number ofwhiskey shops is something dreadful. The consumption of that articlemust be steady and enormous to support them. There is squalor enough tobe seen in the small streets of this town, but that is in every town. 

The public road from Ballymena to Grace Hill passes through the Galgormestate which passed from the hands of its last lord, through theEncumbered Estates Court, into the hands of its present proprietor. Onthis estate a most wonderful change has been effected, and in a shortspace of time to effect so much. During the old _regime_, and thegood old times of absentee landlordism, squalor and misery crept up tothe castle gates. The wretchedness of the tenants could be seen by everypasser-by. The peasantry tell of unspeakable orgies held at the castleeven upon the Sabbath day. The change is something miraculous. The wastepasture-like demesne is reclaimed and planted. The worst cabins haveentirely disappeared; the rest are improved till they hardly knowthemselves. 

They match the new cottages for which the proprietor took a prize. Theselittle homes with their climbing plants, their trim little gardens, lookas if any one might snuggle down in any of them and be content. Thecastle itself looks altered; it has lost its grim Norman look, andstands patriarchal and fatherly among the beautiful homes it hascreated. 

Not far from the castle gate is a pretty church and its companion, anequally pretty building for the National School. I enquired of severalhow this great improvement came about; the answer was always the same, "The estate passed into the hands of a good man who lived on it, and hehad a godly wife. " Passing the pretty little church I heard the sound ofchildren's voices singing psalms, and was told that the daughter of thecastle was teaching the children to sing; I noticed _In Memoriam_on a stone in the building, and found that this church was built inmemory of the good lady of the castle, who has departed to a granderinheritance, leaving a name that lingers like a blessing in the countryside. So the old landlord's loss of an estate has been great gain tothis people. 

It is in the country parts, more remote from the public eye, that onesees the destitution wrought by the depression in the linen trade. People there are struggling with all their might to live and keep out ofthe workhouses. Hand-loom weaving seems doomed to follow hand-spinningand become a thing of the past. Weavers some time ago had a plot ofground which brought potatoes and kale to supplement the loom, and on itcould earn twelve shillings a week. But alas! while the webs grew longerthe price grew less and they are in a sad case. 

I called, with a friend, on some of these weavers: one, an intelligentman, with the prevailing Scotch type of face. We found him, accompaniedby a sickly wife, sitting by a scanty fire, ragged enough. This man forhis last web was paid at the rate of twopence a yard for weaving linenwith twenty hundred threads to the inch, but out of this money he had tobuy dressing and light, and have some one, the sickly wife I suppose, towind the bobbins for him. He must then pay rent for the poor cabin helived in, none too good for a stable, and supply all his wants on theremainder. 

Another weaver told me that all this dreary winter they had no bed-clothes. They think by combining together they will be able to obtainbetter prices; but they are so poor, the depression in the trade is sucha fearful reality that I am afraid they cannot combine or co-operate toany purpose. However, people in such desperate circumstances grasp atany hope. 

It is wonderful with what disfavor some of these people receive a hintof emigration. It seems like transportation to them. Truly these Irishdo cling to the soil. 

The weavers seem to blame the manufacturers for the reduction of wages. They complain that the trade is concentrated into a few hands; thattherefore they cannot sell where they can sell dearest, but are obligedto take yarn from a manufacturer and return it to him in cloth. Theycomplain that he still further reduces the poor wage by fines. As manyof these have only a hut but no garden ground, they have nothing to fallback on. There are many suffering great want, and with inherited Scotchreticence suffering in silence. There may be some injustice and someoppression, for that is human nature, but the hand-loom weaving isdoomed to disappear, I am afraid. 

There are some complaints of the high price of land here, and of thehard times for farmers, but there is no appearance of hard times. Laborers are cheap enough. One shilling a day and food, or ten shillingsa week without food, seems to be the common wage. The people of Down andAntrim, as far as I have gone, are rampantly loyal to Queen andGovernment and to all in authority. If a few blame the manufacturers, orthink the land is too dear, the large majority blame the improvidence ofthe poor. "They eat bacon and drink tea where potatoes and milk orporridge and milk used to be good enough for them. " It is difficult toimagine the extravagance. 

I went through part of the poor-house in Ballymena. It is beautifullyclean and sweet, and in such perfect order out and in that one is gladto think of the sick or suffering poor having such a refuge. What fine, patient, intelligent faces were among the sufferers in the infirmary. The children in the school-room looked rosy and well-fed, and the babieswere nursed by the old women. So many of them--it was a sad sightindeed. 

V. 

ONE RESULT OF THE COERCION ACT--THE AGRICULTURAL LABORERS IN DOWN ANDANTRIM--WHISKEY--RAIN IN IRELAND--A DISCUSSION ON ORANGEISM. 

It is the eighth of March. The weather remains frightfully inclement;the snow and sleet is succeeded by incessant rain storms. The Coercionbill has become law and even in the north there seems a difference inthe people. There is a carefulness of expressing an opinion on anysubject as if a reign of governmental terror had begun. The loyaltyalways so fervent is now intense and loud. The people here think thatthere is an epidemic of unreasonableness and causeless murmuring ragingat the south and west. 

In all that I have seen in Down and Antrim, the agricultural laborersseem to be never at any time much above starvation; any exceptionallyhard times bring it home to them. In cases of accident, disease, or oldage, they have no refuge but the workhouse. There is a constantstruggle, as heroic in God's sight as any struggle of their Scottishancestors, to escape this dreaded fate. When it does overtake them, however, the beggar nurses wait upon the sick beggars with a tendernessthat is inexpressibly touching. 

Emigration is impossible to the laborer or the hand-loom weaver. Theyhave no money, they have nothing to sell to make money, and they areutterly unwilling to be torn from the places where they were born to beexpatriated as beggars, and as beggars set down upon a foreign shore. Iam literally giving utterance to the opinions expressed to me. 

I have heard these people loudly accused of extravagance; on enquiry wastold that they bought American bacon and drank tea, whereas, if thrifty, they would be content with potatoes and buttermilk, or ditto and stir-about. As the cow has disappeared, and potatoes have been known to fail, I did not see the extravagance so clearly as I saw the parsimony thatwould grudge the hard-worked laborer or the pale over-worked weaver anynourishment at all. 

The charge of spending on whiskey seems more likely by the frightfulamount of whiskey shops. Ireland's whiskey bill is going up intosomewhere among the millions. It is a fearful pity that this tax on theindustry and energy of the people could not be abolished. Truth compelsme to add that faces liquor-painted abound most among the well-dressedand apparently well-to-do class whom one meets on the way. 

The tenant-farmers, in some cases, complain of their rents, and wouldcomplain more loudly but for fear of being classed with the Land League, for they in the north are intensely loyal. As for the mere laborer, noone seems to consider him or think of him at all. 

The weather has been so inclement, the days all so much alike, rain, hail, snow, sleet, high winds, and we were so busy coughing that thedays slipped by almost unnoticed. Refusing the tempting offer of a freetrip to see the beauties of Glengarriff, through the medium of a heavyrain we started for Derry by train. Ah! it does know how to rain inIreland. Such a downpour, driven aslant by a fierce wind, so that, disregarding the thought of an umbrella, we held on to the rail of thejaunting car and were driven in the teeth of the tempest, smiling as ifwe enjoyed it, up to the station. 

Both sides of the road at the station were crowded with men in all sortsof picturesque habiliments. If it had been near the poor-house we wouldhave thought that the population was applying for admittance _enmasse_. As it was, seeing the station likewise crowded, the platformbeyond crammed, all eager, expectant, waiting on something, we thoughtit was some renowned field preacher going to give a sermon, or amillionaire going to give largess. Not a bit of it. It was some person, idle and cruel, who was bringing a couple of poor captive deer to behunted, and the hounds to hunt them, and the immense crowd representedthe idle and cruel who had assembled to get a glimpse of this noble andelevating diversion. If it were possible for the deer and the man tochange places the crowd would be still more delighted. 

Leaving Ballymena behind we panted through a completely sodden country. Everything was dripping. In many places the waters were out, and thelow-lying lands were in a flood. Potatoes in pits linger in the fields, turnips and cabbages in the rows where they grew, bearing witness thateven the last hard winter was many degrees behind the winters of Canada. The land on this road is not so good as what I left behind; thereforethere were few gentlemen's houses, and the small farmhouses wore theusual poverty-stricken and neglected appearance. There were more wastehillsides devoted to whins, and flat fields tussocked with rushes as weswept on through the dripping country, under the sides of almostperpendicular rocks, down which little waterfalls, like spun silver, fell and broadened into bridal veils ere they reached the bottom. Thenalong the historical Foyle, "whose swelling waters, " rather muddy atthis season of the year, "roll northward to the main, " and so followingits windings and curvings we flashed into Derry. 

VI. 

THE HILLS OF LOUGH SWILLY--TENANTS' IMPROVEMENTS--A MAN-OF-WAR AND MENOF LOVE--THE PIG--RAMELTON--INTELLIGENT ROOKS--FROM POTATOES AND MILKTO CORNMEAL STIRABOUT AND NOTHING--MILFORD--THE LATE LORD LEITRIM'SINJUSTICE AND INHUMANITY--ACCOUNT OF HIS DEATH. 

On the 14th March we left Derry by train, crossing from the banks of theFoyle to Lough Swilly. Got on board a little steamer, marvellously likean American puffer, and panted and throbbed across the waters of theLough. The sun shone pleasantly, the sky was blue, which deserves to berecorded, as this is the very first day since I arrived in Ireland onwhich the sun shone out in a vigorous and decided manner, determined tohave his own way. We have had a few--a very few--watery blinks of sunbefore, but the rain and sleet always conquered. Sailed up among whin-covered mountains, with reclaimed patches creeping up their sides, andpretty spots here and there, with handsome houses, new and freshlooking, built upon them. It is an inducement to merchants and others tobuild their brand new houses here, that the air is fresh and pure, thescenery grand and beautiful and the salt water rolls up to the foot ofthe rocks. 

It was pointed out to me by a friend, that these mountain-side farmswere reclaimed, by great labor I'm sure, by the tenants, trusting to theUlster custom, but the landlords, knowing that custom was not law, thenraised the rents upon them. If they could not, or were not willing topay the increased rent, increased because of their own labor, they couldleave; others would rent the places at the increased figure. "As foryou, ye shiftless, miserable tillers of the soil, ye can go where youlike; emigrate if you can; get you to the workhouse or the grave if youcannot. " It is hard to believe that this could be done, or has been donelawfully again and again. If it is true it spoils the comfort of lookingat the pleasant homes built upon reclaimed spots. We look more kindly onthe cottage homes nestled among nooks of the hills. 

The sky did not cloud over again, it remained blue and bright and coaxedthe waters of Lough Swilly to look blue and bright also. Flocks of whitesea gulls dipped, darted and sailed about in an abandonment ofenjoyment. Flights of ducks rose on the wing and whirled past. 

We sailed between two forts that frown at one another in a grim anddesolate manner at Rathmullen. Was informed that a man-of-war ordinarilylay at anchor in this Lough to keep half an eye on things in general, and poteen, I suppose, in particular. It was complained that the bluejackets, finding these mountain girls sweet and pretty, and easy tokeep--for since cows are become such a price, a good one, not one of thebovine aristocracy, but a commonly good one, being value for L20, thedamsels of the hills are accustomed to "small rations of tea andpotatoes"--the sailors marry them, "and that, " said my informant, "makesservant girls scarce about here. "

I did not sympathize properly with this complaint. I was glad to hearthat any form of humanity in this island is scarce. I hoped the bluejackets were happy with their Irish wives, for a Liverpool sailorlamented in my hearing that the girls of seaport towns did not oftenmake good sailors' wives. Let us hope that they did better who choseamong the wild hills of Lough Swilly. 

I am told that another cherished institution of Ireland is passing away--

 "The pig that we meant To drynurse in the parlor to pay off the rent. "

The pig is becoming an institution of the past. I was told by agentleman of the first respectability in Derry, that sucking pigs aresold in that market for thirty shillings. These would be precious to thepeasant if he had them, but he has not, nor means to get them. Thisgreat resource for paying the rent is gone. 

Up the Lough we sailed into beautiful Ramelton, an exceptionally pretty, clean little place, boasting of a very nicely kept hotel. The sceneryall around is delightful. Across the Lannon River, on the banks of whichis one of the principal streets, is a lofty ridge crowned with grandtrees. The Lannon runs into Lough Swilly, and is affected by the ebb andflow of the tide. The trees on the ridge are tenanted by a thrivingcolony of rooks, very busy just now with their spring work. Twodelightful roads, one above another, run along the brow of the hillunder the shade of the trees. 

I discovered that rooks know a great deal; that there is infinitevariety of meaning in their caw. The young couples who are startinghousekeeping have not only to provide materials and build their homes, but to defend their property at every stage from the rapacity of theirneighbors. They have also to build in such a manner as to satisfy theartistic taste of the community. I saw an instance of this during amorning walk. Five rooks were sitting in judgment on the work of a youngand thoughtless pair of rooks, I suppose. The work was condemned, theyoung couple were evicted without mercy and the nest pulled to pieces bythe five censors with grave caws of disapprobation, while the evictedones flew round and showed fight and used bad language. The Coercion Actwas not in favor among the black coated gentry of the air. 

It has fallen like a spell over Ireland though, and evictions arehurried through as if they thought their time was short. People areafraid to speak to a stranger. 

I have succeeded in obtaining introductions, which I hope will give mean entrance into society in Donegal. 

Was driven by my new friends over a part of Lord Leitrim's estate, andthrough his town of Milford. The murdered Earl has left a woeful memoryof himself all over the country side. He must have had as many cursesbreathed against him as there are leaves on the trees, if whatrespectable people who dare speak of his doings say of him be true, which it undoubtedly is. Godly people of Scottish descent, Covenantersand Presbyterians, who would not have harmed a hair of his head forworlds, have again and again lifted their hands to heaven and cried. "How long, Lord, are we to endure the cruelty of this man?"

One case (which is a sample case) I will notice. In the plantation ofScottish settlers in the North it seems that either for company ormutual protection against the dispossessed children of the soil, thefarmhouses are built together in clachans or little groups. After alapse of years these clachans in some cases expanded into small towns. The people built houses and made improvements on their holdings, payingtheir rent punctually, but holding the right to their own money's worth, the result of years of toil and stern economy under the Ulster custom. In this way the greater part of the town of Milford sprung intoexistence. 

One John Buchanan, a Presbyterian of Scottish descent, son ofrespectable people who had lived on this estate for generations, wasemployed in the land office of the Earl of Leitrim over twenty years. This man trusting to the Ulster custom, and the honest goodness of theold Earl, grandfather of the present Earl, a good landlord and a justman, by all accounts, invested his savings in building on the site ofthe old farmhouse in Milford a block of buildings--quarrying the stonefor them--consisting of two large houses on Main street, and the resttenement houses on Buchanan street. He improved his farm by reclaimingland, making nice fields out of bog. 

When the good Earl died and the late Earl came into possession, heimmediately raised the rent to nearly double what was paid before, making John Buchanan pay dearly for his improvements. John Buchanan diedrather suddenly, leaving a widow and five children. The widow in heroverwhelming grief was visited by Lord Leitrim personally. He told herwith great abuse and outrageous language, that she had no claim whateverto a particle of the property, "she did not own a stone of it. " Thewidow, worn and nervous with the great trouble she had passed through, was unable to bear this new trouble; his Lordship's violence gave her ashock from which she never recovered. He then sent his bailiffs and puther and her children out; put out the fires, as taking possession, andre-let the place to her, again doubling the rent. Her eldest son, ayoung lad, boiling with wrath over the wrong done and the language usedto his mother, went to his aunt, living at some distance, and besoughther to send him out of the country, lest he should be tempted to takevengeance in his own hand. His aunt seeing this danger, fitted him outfrom her own pocket, and the poor lad, his mother consenting, wasexpatriated out of harm's way to far Australia. 

The widow never recovered the shock which Lord Leitrim had given her. Itwas aggravated by despair at seeing all the savings of her husband'slifetime appropriated by the strong hand, and her children leftdestitute. She was also in debt to the value of L600 for buildingmaterial for an addition built to the house and some office houses, built later on, some time after the rest of the property. This debt ofL600 wore on her. She had no means of payment; all her means wereswallowed up in this property. The creditors could not collect it offthe property, it was not held liable for the debt, neither was LordLeitrim, who had seized the property. Her sense of honesty and the honorof her husband's name made her fret over this debt. The doctor haddeclared her illness heart disease brought on by a shock, and her deathimminent. To soothe her mind her sister again came forward and out ofher own pocket paid the money. The widow died and was buried. Their onlyrelative tried what the law would do to redress the grievances of theorphans. The presiding judge, the chairman of the quarter sessions, lifted up his hands saying, "Must I issue a decree that will rob thesehelpless orphans. " The decree was issued, and the children ejectedwithout a farthing of compensation. To leave no stone unturned, thechildren went in a body to Lord Leitrim to ask, as justice had beenpowerless, for mercy from him. He ordered his servant to put them out. At the time these orphans were turned out of the house their fatherbuilt, there was not a farthing of rent due, all had been paid up at theunjust Earl's own estimate. 

This case had been heard by the Royal Commissioners sent to enquire intothese things, but it appears that there is no law to redress a tenant'swrong. This occurred under the tenant custom of Ulster. 

I drove round this fine property in Milford. It was pointed out to methat almost all the houses in the town were acquired by Lord Leitrim, bythe strong hand, in the same way. Passed the house from which thePresbyterian minister, the Rev. Mr. White, was evicted. It was his ownprivate property. It stands windowless and roofless, a monument to thedead earl. The priest of the parish had no house of his own; he was aboarder with one of his flock, who had built himself a house in the timeof the good earl. When Lord Leitrim fancied that he had cause of quarrelwith the priest he obliged his tenant to put him out, on pain of losingthe house which he had built. After he had got rid of priest andminister, he built a little Episcopal Church, that the people mightworship at his shrine. The little church stands empty now. The graveyardabout this little church was a rocky corner with little soil. Theminister ventured to request that the people might have leave to draw alittle clay from a hill nearby, to cover the bodies interred there, asthere was not soil enough. "I'll not give a spoonful; let their bonesbleach there, " said the earl. 

During the life-time of the good earl, the people being encouraged toimprove their lands, crept up the mountain side, reclaiming whateverland they could. I have seen some of these portions, and noticed howthey had got up close to the rocks, by using the spade where the ploughwould not go. They cleared off the whins of the mountain; they drainedthe bogs. They made kilns and burned lime for top-dressing. When thewicked lord came into possession he not only raised the rent on thetenants' improvements, but built a kiln of his own, and burned lime, forbidding them to use theirs, compelling them to buy from him at hisprice. He would not even allow them to make manure of the floating sea-weed that drifted in from the sea. 

Went to see the place where Lord Leitrim was done to death. Looked downon Milford Bay, dotted with little treeless and shrubless islands. Roundit are round-shouldered hills, brown and bare now--purple with heatherbells in summer time, I dare say. On a point stretching out into thisbay stands his residence, Manor Vaughan. The road leading from ManorVaughan to Milford is screened by a plantation of trees. On the oppositeside of the bay the hills are really mountains. The murderers crossedthe bay, tied their boat to a stone, and waited in the plantation. LordLeitrim, with his clerk, was driven along on one car, followed byanother containing his servants. His car, somewhat in advance, wentslowly up a little hill. Those lying in wait fired; the driver felldead. Lord Leitrim was wounded; he jumped off on one side, the clerk onthe other. He had pistols but they were in the car; he retreated, tryingto defend himself as they poured on him shot after shot. Those in theother car, instead of coming up, stopped in mortal terror. The clerk, only slightly wounded in the ear, ran to them, exclaiming, "They arekilling Lord Leitrim, they have killed me, " and dropped dead withnervous terror. The assassins had poured in all their shot, still theEarl was not dead. He might yet have been saved if there had been anyone to help him. What must his thoughts have been in that suprememoment. They beat the life out of him, he defending himself to the last. They cut loose their boat, rowed across the bay, cast it adrift, tookthe mountains and escaped. 

The Earl fell, his head in a little pool of water. The country peoplecoming in to Milford town passed by with white faces on the other side;no one lifted his head, no one looked to see if life was extinct. Atlength the constabulary came, and the remains of the dreaded lord werecarried in a cart into Milford. There was a _post mortem_examination; part of his poor remains was buried in the graveyard of thelittle church which he built, and a load of the clay he refused to histenants brought to cover it. His name will long linger in evil fameamong the mountains and deserts. 

It is but just to the memory of this man to say, that some, who withgood reason abhor his memory, do not believe that charges of grossimmorality made against him were true. Others who think themselvesequally well informed hold a contrary opinion. To think of mentioningall I have heard of his oppressive injustice would be impossible. I wastold that when news of his death came into certain places, men claspedhands and drank one another's health as at a festival; that pious peoplethanked God for the deliverence, who abhorred the means by which it cameabout. 

I saw among the hills three nice farms, which a well-to-do farmer boughtand improved, and finally bequeathed to his three sons. One died and theAhab-like Earl took possession. Wishing to evict another for the purposeof throwing two farms into one, he offered the farm to the remainingbrother in addition to his own. The man refused to ruin his brother. TheEarl, to punish him, raised his rent from L35 to L70. Griffith'svaluation of this farm is L29 5s. Another eviction from Milford was sopitiful in its cruelty that the compassion of the country was aroused, and a home bought by subscription for the old people. I saw the propertyfrom which these people were evicted in Milford, a valuable row ofhouses. 

The present Earl acknowledged the justice of the claim of JohnBuchanan's children, and spoke of restitution, but his agent, on whomthe mantle of the late Earl had fallen, persuaded him against it, asnearly all the property in Milford town had been acquired in the sameway. "Making restitution to one would open up the question of theothers, and could not be afforded. "

VII. 

IRISH COLD AND CANADIAN COLD--EVIDENCES OF THE FAMINE--PREPARING FORTHE IRISH LAND BILL--THE BAD PEOPLE OF DONEGAL--INFLUENCE OF THE BALLOTON LANDLORDS--A MOUNTAIN STORM--A "BETTER CLASS" FARMER'S HOME. 

To make excursions to a short distance from this pretty town ofRamelton and to return again has been my occupation for the last week. It was arranged that on Monday, March 21st, I was to go with some kindfriends to see life up among the mountains of Donegal, but down cameanother storm. Snow, hail, sleet, rain, hail, sleet and rain again. Storms rule and reign among these hills this March, destroying allprospect of March dust I am afraid. Nothing could be done but wait tillthe storm was over, going to the windows once in a while to watch thesnow driving past, or to notice that it had changed to sleet or rain. 

The mountain tops are white again, and look wild and wintry. To-day itrains with a will. The cold here at present is more chill andpenetrating than Canadian cold. I have put on more, and yet moreclothing, and I am cold. Many, very many, people during the past drearywinter have had no bed-clothes at all. 

I am afraid from what I see and hear that the famine was more dreadfulhere in Donegal than we in Canada imagined. Plenty of people even noware living on Indian meal stirabout, without milk or anything else totake with it. This, three times a day, and thankful to have enough of itto satisfy hunger. It was pitiful to see little children and aged women, with but thin clothes on, walking barefoot through the snowy slush ofyesterday. 

My attention was drawn to a ballad singer, almost blind, "whose loopedand windowed raggedness" was picturesque. His dreary attempts at singingwith his teeth chattering, the rain and sleet searching out every cornerof his rags, was pitiful. He was hardly able to stand against thecutting wind. I sent out and bought his ballad as an excuse to give himthe Queen's picture. The songs were clever for local poetry. They weretreasonous too, but then loyalty is the song of the well fed, well clad, well-to-do citizen. Treason and wretchedness fit well together, in ahelpless, harmless way. 

Your London correspondent of February 11th remarks, "Even Ireland hasnothing left but to settle down and attend to putting in the crops. "This is an English and comfortable view--the remark of a man who was notthere to see. It is far otherwise here in County Donegal. Evictions areflying about as thick as "the leaves of the forest when autumn hathflown. " This wild second winter is the time selected for theseevictions. Every local paper has notices of evictions here and there. 

They tell me that the reason of the great number of evictions at presentis to prevent the wretched tenants from having any benefit under thepromised Land Bill. If they are evicted now and readmitted ascaretakers, they can be sent off again at a week's notice and have noclaim under the Ulster custom for past improvements. I think any candidperson can see that these people are not in a position to pay back rent, or even present rent at the high rate to which it is raised. In someinstances they are not able to pay any rent at all. There had been someyears of bad seasons ending in one of absolute famine. 

The report of the Relief Committee for northern Donegal was published on28th of October, 1880. I met with a member of that Committee, which wascomposed of sixteen Protestants and eleven Catholics, including theCatholic Bishop of Raphoe and the Presbyterian member of Parliament. This gentleman informed me that food was given in such quantities as topreserve life only. Seed was also given. Many people of respectablestanding, whose need was urgent, applied for relief secretly, notwishing their want to be known. Helped in this careful way the amountgiven, exclusive of expenses, in North Donegal was L33, 660. 17. 1, ofwhich amount the New York _Herald_ gave L2, 000, besides L203 to anemigration fund enabling 115 persons to leave the country. Surely wemust think that before these people applied for public charity--andevery case was examined into by some of the Committee or their agents--they had exhausted all their means, and sold all they had to sell. How, then, could they possibly be able to pay back rent in March, 1881?

In the middle of my letter I got the long-waited-for opportunity toleave Ramelton behind and go up into the Donegal Hills. 

The environs of Ramelton are wonderfully beautiful, sudden hills, greenvales, lovely nooks in unexpected places, waters that sparkle and dash, or that flow softly like the waters of Shiloh, great aristocratic treesin clumps, standing singly, grouped by the water's edge, as if they hadsauntered down to look about them, or drawn up on the hill-side manydeep, stretching far away like the ranks of a grand army. All that thesecan do to make Ramelton a place of beauty has been done. It is hemmed inby hills that lie up against the sky, marked off into fields by whinhedges, till they look like sloping chequer-boards. Beyond them, inplaces, tower up the mountain-tops of dark Donegal, crusted over withblack heather, seamed by rift and ravine, bare in places where theserocks, those bones of the mountains, have pushed themselves through theheather, till it looks like a ragged cloak. The sun shines, the rooksflap busily about, as noisy as a parliament, the air is keen, and so wedrive out of Ramelton. 

The sky was blue, although the wind was cold, and it was blowing quite agale. We had not left the town far behind when the storm recommenced inall its fury. The hail beat in our faces until we were obliged to coverup our heads. Finally the pony refused to go a step farther, but turnedhis obstinate shoulder to the storm and stood there, where there was noshelter of any kind, and there he stood till the storm moderated alittle, only to recommence again. Up one hill, down another, along ableak road through a bog, past the waters of Lough Fern, up more hills, round other hills, across other bleak bogs, the little town ofKilmacrennan, up other hills, the storm meanwhile raging in all its furyuntil we drew up on the lee side of a little mountain chapel. 

The clergyman, who happened to be there, received us most courteously, and conducted us to his house. We were offered refreshments, and treatedwith the greatest kindness. Owing to this priest's courtesy and kindnessI was provided with a room in the house of one of his parishioners, amountain side farmer. 

I parted with my friends with great regret. They returned to Rameltonthrough the storm, which increased in fury every moment. I, in the safeshelter of the farmhouse, looked out of the window, hoping the stormwould moderate, but it increased until every thing a few yards from thehouse, every mountain top and hill side were blotted out, and nothingcould be seen but the flurrying snow driven past by the winds. 

I have now left the Presbyterians of the rich, low-lying lands behind, and am up among the Catholic people of the hills. I have felt quite athome with these kindly folk. They remind me of the kindliness of theCeltic population of another and far-off land. I like the sound of theIrish tongue, which is spoken all around me. I feel quite at home by thepeat fire piled up on the hearth. The house where I am staying is thatof a farmer of the better class. A low thatched house divided into a butand a ben. The kitchen end has the bare rafters, black and shining withconcentrated smoke. The parlor end is floored above and has a boardfloor. Among the colored prints of the Saviour which adorn the wall aretwo engravings, in gilt frames, of Bright and Gladstone, bought when theLand Bill of 1870 was passed. 

This Bill, by the way, has been evaded with great ease, for the lawbreakers were the great who knew the law, and the wronged were the poorwho were ignorant of it. The farmer's wife could not do enough to makeme welcome. She had the kind and comely face and pleasant tongue thatreminded me of Highland friends in the long ago. Their name of Murray, which is a prevalent name on these hills, had a Highland sound. Feelingwelcome, and safe under the care that has led me thus far, I fell asleepin the best bed, with its ancient blue and white hangings, and sleptsoundly. 

These people are very thrifty. The blankets of the bed were homespun;the fine linen towel was the same. The mistress's dress was home-made, and so was the cloth of her husband's clothes. In noticing this I wastold that where they could keep a few sheep the people were better off, but it was harder now to keep sheep than formerly. 

VIII. 

THE HILL COUNTRY OF DONEGAL--ON THE SQUARE--OFFICE RULES

Left up among my country people in this hill country of Donegal, I setmyself to see and to hear what they had to say for themselves or againsttheir landlords. In the pauses of storm I walked up the mountains to seethe people in their homes. I seem to have lost the power of description. I will never think of scenes I saw there without tears. I never, inCanada, saw pigs housed as I saw human beings here. Sickness, old age, childhood penned up in such places that one shuddered to go into them. Now, mark me! every hovel paid rent, or was under eviction for failingto pay. 

The landlord has no duties in the way of repairing a roof or making ahouse comfortable. Such a thing is utterly unknown here. To fix therent, to collect the rent, to make office rules as whim or cupiditydictates, to enforce them, in many instances with great brutality, isthe sole business of the landlord; and the whole power of the Executiveof England is at his back. This is not a good school in which to learnloyalty. Submission to absolute decrees or eviction are the onlyalternative. 

The tenant has no voice in the bargain. He has no power to be one partyto a contract. This irresponsible power of an autocrat over serfs of thesoil is bad for both parties. I will try to tell these people's side ofthe question as nearly in their own words as I can. 

When the native population was driven off the good valley lands to thehills of Donegal during the confiscation times, they built their cabinsin groups, like the Scotch _clachans_, for company, perhaps evenfor protection. Each man broke up, clearing off stones and rooting upwhins, the best patch within his reach. He ditched and drained pieces oflow-lying bog, and paid for what he cultivated, all the rest beingcommon. 

By what title the Clemens of Leitrim got lordship over the wild hills aswell as the fat lowlands I cannot tell; but all the country here, formiles and miles, up hill and down vale, is his. The people haveabsolutely no rights, far as the land is concerned. 

The first move towards this dreadful state of things was called"Squaring the farms. " This was done to compel the people to pay for thewild as well as the cultivated lands. Under the old system a man mighthave a few goats or sheep, or a heifer, on the hills, and, if his cropwas not good, or a hail storm threshed out his oats, he could sacrificethese to pay the rent. When the farms were squared each man drew lotsfor his new holding. I am speaking of Lord Leitrim's estate. This was ahard decree, but the tenant had no alternative but to submit. A manoften found himself squared out of the best of his clearing, squared outof his cabin and all accommodation for his cow or horse, and squared onto a new place without any house on it at all. 

I made particular enquiry if Lord Leitrim had ever made any allowance orcompensation to a man deprived of the house, which he or his fathers hadbuilt, after this summary fashion. No compensation. Every fixture putupon the land belonged to the landlord absolutely. 

"Was there ever any help allowed to a man in building a new house?"

"In a very few instances a man got a door and a couple of window-sashesas a charitable assistance, not by any means as a compensation. "

After some time the wild mountains, where there was nothing but rocksand heather, were fenced off. Before this the goats and sheep grazed upthere. A new office rule made the price for a sheep or goat picking aliving among the heather. It was one shilling and sixpence for a sheepwith a lamb at her foot, and other animals in proportion. Still thewretched men of the hills struggled to live on in the only homes theyhad, or had ever known. Then the rents were raised. In one instance fromL3 11s 4d to L6 5s for 6 Irish acres, the increased value being theresult of the man's own hard labor. In another instance from L1 9s 4d toL13. Another office rule charges five shillings for the privilege ofcutting turf for fuel even if cut on the little holding for which he ispaying rent. 

Now, when every nerve was strained to pay this rack rent, and cattlewere high in price, if the unfortunate tenant failed, why, he wasevicted. He might go where he liked, to the workhouse or the asylum, orthe roadside, his little clearing would make pasture, and this, at theprice of beef cattle, would be still more profitable. For any landlordin this part of Donegal to speak of freedom of contract is a fallacy. Itdoes not exist. 

The oppression at present exercised by Captain Dopping on the Leitrimestate, which he can carry out safely under the protection of bayonets, would raise up Judge Lynch in America before three months. Lately, thepeople told me, he visited the farm-houses in person, pulled open thedoors of the little room that the better class strive to have, withoutpermission asked, and walked in to inspect if there were any signs ofprosperity hidden from the eye that might warrant further extortion. This act was resented with a feeling that found no relief in words. Inoticed that there was no word of complaint or denunciation anywhere. Facts were stated, and you understood by glance and tone that the timefor mere complaint was past. 

I was taken to see a paralytic schoolmaster who had dared to build aroom next to the school-house out of which he was helped into schoolevery morning, for he could teach, though he had lost the use of hislimbs. No sooner did Lord Leitrim know this than he had the paralyticcarried out and laid on the road, and the room which he had built withhis earnings and the help of his neighbors, was pulled down--not onestone was left upon another. He then lost his situation which was hisliving. I can hardly bear to describe this man's dwelling in which Ifound himself, his wife, four children and the cow. The winds of themountain and the rains of heaven equally found their way in. His wifeteaches sewing in the school at a salary of L8 per annum. This, withother help from the Rev. Mr. Martin, formerly Episcopal Rector ofKilmacrennan, who got the wife the post of schoolmistress, has keptthese people alive. The father has not seen the sky since he was evictedin 1870. At present there is a writ of ejectment on the house for L9 ofback rent, and he is sued for seed, got in the time of scarcity. 

The house is horrible--there are boards with some straw on them over thebeds. The children are very pretty, and as hardy as mountain goats. Thefather was quite an educated man, to judge from his speech. I, who waswell clothed, shivered at the hearth, but want and nakedness stayedthere constantly. If this poor man were put in the poor-house, he wouldhave to part from the faithful wife and sweet children; but that is thedoom that stares him in the face. 

The longer I stayed among the hills the more I became convinced that thepeople had strained every nerve to pay what they considered unjust andextortionate rents. They worked hard; they farmed hard; they wore poorclothing; they left their hill and went over to Scotland or England, atharvest time, to earn money to pay the rent. "And we were not consideredas kindly, or as much respected, as their hogs or dogs, " said a farmerto me. There was nothing left after the rent for comfort, or to use incase of sickness; they always lived on the brink of starvation. 

"Why did you not refuse to pay these increased rents when they were putupon you first? You should have refused in a body, and stood out, " Isaid to one man. "Some could do that, my lady, but most could not. Atfirst I had the old people depending on me, and I could not see them onthe hillside; now I have little children, and the wife is weakly. Andthere were many like me, or even worse. "

Now consider some of the office rules. My lord had a pound of his own:for a stray beast, so much; for a beast caught up the mountain withoutleave, eviction; for burning the limestone on your own place instead ofbuying it at the lord's kiln, eviction; for burning some parings of thepeat land, the ashes of which made the potatoes grow bigger and drier, eviction. Not only did the man who did not doff his hat to the landlordstand in danger, but the man who did not uncover to his lowest under-bailiff. One exaction after another, one tyranny after another has dug agulf between landlord and tenant that will be hard to bridge. I saw astone house used as a barn. Lord Leitrim made the man who built it, whohad got permission to build from the good Earl, tear down the chimneyand make an office-house of it, on pain of eviction. He must continue tolive himself in the hovel. Another widow woman, evicted for not beingable to pay her rent, had the roof torn off her house, but has a placelike a goose pen among the ruins, and here she stays. Every day ridesout Capt. Dopping with his escort of police, paid for by the county, andevicts without mercy. Since the eyes of the world have been drawn toIreland by the proceedings of the Land League none have been left to dieoutside. The tenants are admitted as caretakers by the week, but theeviction, I am told, extinguishes any claim the poor people might haveunder the Ulster Custom. 

I have seen nothing yet to make me think I was in a disturbed countryexcept meeting Captain Dopping and his escort, and seeing white policebarracks and dandy policemen, who literally overrun the country. Itcarries one's mind back to the days of bloody Claverhouse or wickedJudge Jeffries to hear and see the feelings which the country people--Catholic as well as Protestant--have towards the memory of the lateEarl. "Dear, the cup of his iniquity was full, the day of vengeance wascome, and the earth could hold him no longer, " said a Protestant to me. 

"It was bad for the people, whoever they were, that took vengeance outof the hands of the Almighty, but many a poor creature he had sent outof the world before he lay helpless at the mercy of his enemies, " saidmany an orthodox person to me. One poor girl on that dreadful daythanked God that the oppressor was laid low. Her mother evicted, haddied on the roadside exposed to the weather of the hills, her brotherwent mad at the sight of misery he would almost have died to relieve butcould not, and is now in the asylum at Letterkenny. One can imagine withwhat feeling this desolate girl lifted her hands when she heard of themurder, and said, "I thank Thee, O Lord. "

What kind of a system is it that produces such scenes, and suchfeelings? It is a noticeable fact how many there are in the asylum inLetterkenny whose madness they blame on the horrors of these evictions. Wise legislation may find a remedy for these evils, but the memory ofthem will never die out. It is graven on the mountains, it is stamped onthe valleys, it is recorded on the rocks forever. 

IX. 

ALONG A MOUNTAIN ROAD--WHY THE RENT WAS RAISED--TURNING FARMS INTOPASTURES--ST. COLOMBKILL--IRISH HOSPITALITY--A NOTABLE BALLAD. 

The twenty-sixth of March rose sunny and cold, and I decided to hire ahorse and guide to go to Derryveigh, made memorable by Mr. John GeorgeAdair. The road lay through wild mountain scenery. Patches of cultivatedfields lay on the slopes; hungry whin-covered hills rose all round them, steep mountains rank upon rank behind; deep bog lands, full oftreacherous holes, lay along at the foot of the mountain here and there. The scenery is wild beyond description, not a tree for miles in all thelandscape. 

On some of the lower hills men were ploughing with wretched-lookinghorses. Men were delving with spades where horses could not keep theirfooting. The houses were wretched, some only partly roofed, some withthe roof altogether gone and a shed erected inside, but for the mostwretched of all the hovels rent is exacted. 

Every bit of clearing was well and carefully labored. The high, broadstone fences round hillside fields were all gathered from the soil. 

At one place, I was told that the brother of the occupant had sent him, from America, money to make the house a little more comfortable. Heroofed it with slate. The rent was raised from L2 9s 4d to L13 10s. Imay remark here that the tenants complain that the present Earl, throughhis agent, Capt. Dopping, is even more oppressive in a steady, cruelmanner than the late Earl. 

The late hard times--the cruel famine--has led to the sacrifice of allstock, so that some of these people have not a four-footed beast ontheir holding. 

As we wound along among the hills my guide spoke of getting another manto accompany us, who was well acquainted with the way to Derryveigh, andwe stopped at his place accordingly. He came to the car to explain thathe was busy fanning up corn, or he would be only too glad to come. In asubdued whisper he told my guide of Capt. Dopping having been at hishouse, with his bailiffs and body-guard of police--threatening the wife, he said. He then told of the sacrifices he had made of one thing andanother to gather up one year's rent. He had to pay five shillings forcutting turf on his own land, and one shilling for a notice served onhim. Poor little man, he had a face that was cut for mirthfulness, andhis woefulness was both touching and amusing. So we left him and wentour way. 

Along the road, winding up and down among the hills, by sudden bogs androcky crags still more desolate and lonely looking, we came upon acultured spot, now and then, where a solitary man would be digging roundthe edges of the rocks. Again we were among wild mountains heaving uptheir round heads to the sky and looking down at us over one another'sshoulders. It brought to my mind the Atlantic billows during the laststormy February. It is as if the awful rolling billows mounting to thesky were turned into stone and fixed there, and the white foam changedinto dark heather. After driving some time the landscape softened downinto rolling hills beautifully cultivated, and sprinkled here and therewith grazing cattle. 

We are coming to Gartan Lake, and where there is a belt of trees by thelake shore stands the residence of Mr. Stewart, another landlord. He, when cattle became high-priced, thought that cattle were much preferableto human beings, so he evicted gradually the dwellers who had broken inthe hills, and entered into possession, without compensation, of thefields, the produce of others' toil and sweat. His dwelling is in alonely, lovely spot, and it stands alone, for no cottage home is at allnear. He has wiped out from the hill sides every trace of the homes ofthose who labored on these pleasant fields and brought them undercultivation. Since the Land League agitation began he has given areduction of rents, and the whole country side feel grateful andthankful. 

There is no solitude so great that we do not meet bailiffs at theirduty, or policemen on the prowl. 

We are now nearing Derryveigh. There are two lakes lying along thevalley connected with a small stream. My guide informed me that bothlakes once abounded with salmon. The celebrated St. Colombkill was bornon the shores of the Gartan Lake. Being along the lake one day he askedsome fishermen on the lower lake to share with him of the salmon theyhad caught. They churlishly refused, and the saint laid a spell on thewaters, and no salmon come there from that day to this. They areplentiful in Upper Gartan Lake, and come along the stream to thedividing line, where the stream is spanned by a little rustic bridge;here they meet an invisible barrier, which they cannot pass. I told myguide in return the story of the Well of St. Keyne, but he thought itunlikely. So there is a limit to belief. 

Since Mr. Adair depopulated Derryveigh, and gave it over to silence, theroads have been neglected, and have become rather difficult for a car. The relief works in famine time have been mainly road-making, and thereare smooth hard roads through the hills in all directions, so the peoplecomplain of roads that would not be counted so very bad in the Canadianbackwoods. However, the difficulty being of a rocky nature, we left thecar at the house of a dumb man, the only one of the inhabitants sparedby Adair. He and his sister, also dumb, lived together on the mountainsolitudes. She is dead, and a relative, the daughter of one of theevicted people, has come to keep house for him. He made us very welcome, seeing to it that the horse was put up and fed with sheaf oats. I and myguides, for we were now joined by the man who had had the oats to fan--he had got his brother to take his place and came a short cut across thehills to meet us--so we all three set out to walk over Derryveigh. 

It was a trying walk, a walk to be measured by ups and downs, for theDerryveigh hamlets were widely scattered. There they were--rooflesshomes, levelled walls, desolation and silence. And it is a desolation, indeed. Broken down walls here and there, singly and in groups, mark theplace where there was a contented population when Mr. Adair bought theestate. He had made plans for turning his purchase into a veritable ElDorado. The barren mountains are fenced off, surely at a great expense, that no sheep or lamb might bite a heather bell without pay. It was tobe a great pasture for black-faced sheep. The sides of the mountains, which are bog in many places, are scored with drains to dry up the bogholes and give the sheep a sure footing. I did not see many sheep on thehill or many cattle on the deserted farms. It is an awfully lonesomeplace; desolation sits brooding among the broken-down walls. My guide, alonesome-looking man, enlivened our way by remarks like these: "This wasa widdy's house. She was a well-doin' body. " "Here was a snug place. See, there's the remains of a stone porch that they built to break offthe wind. " "That was Jamie Doherty's, he that died on the road-sideafter he was evicted. You see, nobody dare lift the latch or open thedoor to any of the poor creatures that were put out. "

And this has been done; human beings have died outside under the sky forno crime, and this under the protection of English law. Many of thesepeople lost their reason, and are in the asylum at Letterkenny. Some arestill _coshering_ here and there among their charitable neighbors, while many are bitter hearted exiles across the sea. After walking upand down amid this pitiful desolation, and hearing many a heart-rendingincident connected with the eviction, a sudden squall of hail came on, and we were obliged to take shelter on the lee side of a ruined walltill it blew over. To while away the time one of the guides told me of alocal song made on the eviction, the refrain being, "Five hundredthousand curses on cruel John Adair. "

Across the Gartan Lake we could see from our partial shelter the pointto which Mr. Stewart wasted the people off his estate. Mr. Stewart's isa handsome lonely place, but when one hears all these tales ofspoliation it prevents one from admiring a fine prospect. "He is dealingkindly with the people now, " said my guides, "whatever changed his heartGod knows. "

The shower being over we returned to the house of the dummy. In ourabsence dinner had been prepared for us. She had no plates, but thetable on which she laid oat cakes was as white as snow. She gave us alittle butter, which, by the signs and tokens, I knew to be all she had, boiled eggs, made tea of fearful strength, and told us to eat. My guidesenjoyed the mountain fare with mountain appetites. I tried to eat, butsomehow my throat was full of feelings. I had great difficulty to makethis mountain maid accept of a two shilling piece for her trouble. Wereturned by the way we came to a point where we had a view of a rectorywhich was pointed out to me as the abode of another good rector. Thesepeople do seem to feel kindness very much. Here we took another road tovisit Glenveigh and see Adair's castle. On the way we were informed by awoman, speaking in Irish, that a process-server near Creeslach was firedat through the window of his house. He had been out serving processes, and was at home sitting with his head resting on his hand. Three shotswere fired, two going over his head and one going through the hand onwhich his head was resting. Two men are taken up to-day. 

 * * * * *

I have secured a copy of the ballad referred to by our guide, whichrecords the desolation of Derryveigh. All such actions are celebrated inlocal poetry; but this is one of the fiercest; you can publish it if youthink best:--

DERRYVEIGH. 

 "The cold snow rests on levelled walls, where was a happy home, The wintry sky looks down upon a desolate hearthstone. The hearth by which the cradle song has lulled our infant's sleep, Is open to the pitying skies that nightly o'er it weep. There is rippling in the waters, there is rustling through the air, Five hundred thousand curses upon cruel John Adair. 

 "It is not we that curse him, though in woe our sad heart bleeds, The curse that's on him is the curse that follows wicked deeds. He suspected and he punished, he judged, and then he drew The besom of destruction our quiet homesteads through; So it's rippling in the waters, it is rustling through the air, Five hundred thousand curses upon cruel John Adair. 

 "We little dreamed upon our hills destruction's hour was nigh, Woe! Woe the day our quiet glens first met his cruel eye! He coveted our mountains all in an evil hour, We have tasted of his mercy, and felt his grasp of power; Through years to come of summer sun, of wintry sleet and snow, His name shall live in Derryveigh as Campbell's in Glencoe. 

 "A tear is on each heather bell where heaven's dew distils, And weeping down the mountain side flows on a thousand rills; The winds rush down the empty glens with many a sigh and moan, Where little children played and sang is desolate and lone. The scattered stones of many homes have witnessed our despair, And every stone's a monument to cruel John Adair. 

 "Where are the hapless people, doomed by John Adair's decree? Some linger in the drear poor-house--some are beyond the sea; One died behind the cold ditch--back beneath the open sky, And every star in heaven was a witness from on high. None dared to ope a friendly door, or lift a neighbor's latch, Or shelter by a warm hearthstone beneath the homely thatch. 

 "Beside the lake in sweet Glenveigh, his tall white castle stands, With battlement and tower high, fresh from the mason's hands; It's built of ruined hearth stones, its cement is bitter tears, It's a monument of infamy to all the future years, He is written childless, for of his blood no heir Shall inherit land or lordship from cruel John Adair. 

 "His cognizance the bloody hand has a wild meaning now, It is pointing up for vengeance to Cain-like mark his brow, It speaks of frantic hands that clasped the side posts of the door; Pale lips that kissed the threshold they would cross, oh, never more. The scattered stones of many homes, the desolated farms, Shall mark with deeper red the hand upon his coat of arms. The silver birches of Glenveigh when stirred by summer air Shall whisper of the curse that hangs o'er cruel John Adair. "

X. 

WHY THE RENT IS RAISED--THE HISTORY OF AN EVICTION FROM ONE OF THEEVICTED--A DONEGAL CONGREGATION--A CLIMB TO THE TOP OF DOONHILL--DOONHOLY WELL--MAKING THE BEST OF A STRANGER. 

In the silence of the night when sleep would not come, and when myimagination rehearsed over and over again sights I had seen and tales Ihad heard, I made an almost cast-iron resolution to escape to the estateof Stewart of Ards and have one letter filled up with the good deeds ofa landlord. Alas for me! another storm, a rain storm, and a touch ofneuralgia conspired to keep me "ben the house" in the little room uponthe mountain side. One can weather snow or hail easier than a mountainrain storm. The rain is laden with half-melted snow, and the wind thatdrives it is terribly in earnest. 

It is one queer feature of this mountain scenery, the entire absence oftrees. The hills look as if the face of the country had been shaved. Upthe hill sides the little fields are divided off by high, broad stonefences, the result of gathering the stones out of the fields. The bogland to be reclaimed requires drains three feet deep every six feet ofland. 

To trench up a little field into ridges six feet apart, to gather stonesout of a little field sufficient to surround it with a four feet highstone fence, to grub out and burn whins, to make all the improvementswith your own labor, and then to have your landlord come along with hisvaluator and say, "Your farm is worth double what you pay for it; I canget thirty shillings an acre for it, " and to raise the rent to its fullvalue, which you must pay or go out. This sort of thing is repeated, andrepeated, in every variation of circumstances and of hardship, and thepeople submit and are, as a whole, quiet and law-abiding. 

I was called out of my little den to see a woman, one of the evictedtenants of Mr. Adair. She was on her way to Letterkenny to see her son, who is in the asylum since the eviction. It was hard enough to wanderthrough the ruins and hear of the eviction scenes from others, but tosit by the turf fire and listen to one who had suffered and wassuffering from this dreadful act, to see the recollection of itexpressed in look and tone was different. This woman--husband dead, sonin the asylum--was a decent-looking body in cloak and cap, with ableached face and quiet voice. 

"We were all under sentence of eviction, but it was told to us that itwas for squaring the farms. Then we were warned to pay in the half-year's rent. It was not due till May, and we had never been asked to paythe rent ahead of us before. But the landlord was a new one, and if hemade a rule, why, we must obey him; so we scraped up and sold this andthat and paid it. If we had known what was coming we might have kept it, and had a penny to turn to when we were out under the sky. It was to getthe rent before he turned us out that he made that plan. We were put outin the beginning of April; our rent was paid up to May. Oh, I wish, Iwish that he had driven us into the lake the day he put us out. A fewminutes would have ended our trouble, but now when will it end! I havebeen through the country, my lady, and my boy in the asylum ever since. "

Went to the Catholic chapel up here in the mountains. It was quiteconvenient to my lodging. It is a very nice building with a new look. Iwas surprised to see such a fine building in the mountains, for, owingto the poverty of the people, there were no chapels at all in someplaces a little time ago. Mass was celebrated in _scalans_, a kindof open sheds, covered over head to protect the officiating priest fromthe weather, while the people clustered round in the open air. When Ispoke of the nice appearance of the chapel I was told that the childrenof these hills scattered through the United States, Canada, New Zealandand Australia, had helped in its building. There were between seven andeight hundred people present. There were no seats on the floor of thechapel. I could not help admiring the patient, untiring devotion ofthese people, and the endurance that enabled them to kneel so long. Theprevailing type of face is eminently Scottish, so is the tone of voice, and the names, Murrays, Andersons, and the like. 

Were it not for the altar and the absence of seats I could have imaginedmyself in a Glenelg Presbyterian congregation. The Irish spoken here, and it is spoken universally, has a good deal of resemblance to GlenelgGaelic. I was surprised at how much I understood of the conversationscarried on around me. The women, too, in their white caps, with theirserious, devotional comely faces, reminded me of faces I have seen indear old Glengarry. 

There were not half a dozen bonnets in the whole congregation--snow-white caps covered with a handkerchief for the matrons. They wore cloaksand shawls, and looked comfortable enough. I saw some decent blue clothcloaks of a fashion that made me think they had served four generationsat least. The lasses wore their own shining hair "streeling" down theirbacks or neatly braided up; abundant locks they had, brown colorprevailing. Fresher, rosier, comelier girls than these mountain maidensit would be hard to find. 

The men's clothing, though poor, and in some instances patched in anartistic fashion, was scrupulously clean. In the congregation were someyoung men well dressed, bold and upright, whose bearing, cut ofwhiskers, and watch chains, showed that they had lived among our trans-Atlantic cousins of the great Republic. 

The priest of the hills is the one man whom these people trust. Theprevailing type of landlord has been their enemy and oppressor. Thepriest has been friend, counsellor, sympathizer, helper, as well asclergyman, and so he is _soggarth aroon_. 

The storm continues at intervals. I get one clear, cold bit of fairweather to climb to the top of Doune hill, where the Ulster kings usedto be crowned, a sugar-loaf shaped hill with the top broken off, risingin isolated grandeur up high enough to give one a breather to get to thetop. 

The weather returned to its normal condition of storm, and I was shut upagain. I became a little homesick, had the priest to tea, and enjoyedhis conversation very much, but he had to go off in the storm on a sickcall. A priest in these mountains has not the easiest kind of life inthe world. 

Illusions took possession of my brain. I fancied myself a great queen, to say the least of it. A whisper got among the hills that a greatAmerican lady with unlimited power had come seeking the welfare of thecountry, and so any amount of deputations wafted on me. I will give afew specimens. 

Two men to see my lady in reference to a small still that had beenmisfortunately found on the place of an old man upward of eighty. He wasfined L12, and would my lady do anything?

Two women under sentence of eviction, my lady (I saw the place of one ofthese, the roof was on the floor, and a little shelter was in one cornerlike the lair of a wild beast, and here she kept possession in spite ofthe dreadful Captain Dopping; the agent). Would my lady send out theirtwo daughters to America and place them in decent places?

And here was old Roseen, old and miserable, without chick or child, ordrop's blood belonging to her in the wide world, and would my ladyremember her?

Here's the crature of a widow from the mountain with four smallchildren, and no man body to help her with the place, and not a four-footed beast on it belonging to her; all went in the scarcity; would mylady look to her a little, sure she was the neediest of all?

And here was the poor cripple boy that his reverence was so good to, &c. , &c. , &c. , in endless file. 

Nothing kept this over-dose of "my lady" from going to my head likeInnishowen poteen, but the slenderness of my purse. Determined at last, warned by my fast-collapsing _portmonnaie_, to refuse to see anymore deputations and keep ben-the-house strictly. A cry arose thatCaptain Dopping and his body-guard, on evictions bent, were coming upthe hill. I rushed out, mounted a ditch of sods for one more look at thelittle tyrant of their fields. As I stood shading my eyes with my handand looked across at the dreaded agent, a plaintive "my lady, " bleatedout at my side, drew my eyes down. It was a woman; she did not speak anymore, but looked, and that look drew out my fast collapsing purse. Iwalked slowly into the house, determined to escape from the hills whileI had the means left of escaping. 

XI. 

THE JAUNTING CAR--SCENERY IN DONEGAL--MOUNTAIN PASTURES--A VISIT TOGLENVEIGH CASTLE. 

I have returned to pleasant Ramelton, and will write my visit toGlenveigh Castle from here. This town will always be a place ofremembrance to me on account of the Christian kindness, sympathy, encouragement and counsel which I have received in it. 

It was my great good fortune to get an introduction to Mr. And MissMcConnell, a brother and sister, who are merchants in this place. Theyare of the stock of the Covenanters, a people who have left the stamp oftheir individuality on the piety of the North of Ireland. Sufferersthemselves from Lord Leitrim's tyranny and greed, they sympathize withother sufferers, and sympathize with me in my work to a greater extentthan any others since I left home. I can say with feeling, I was astranger and they took me in. 

I have been driven in many directions sight-seeing in their cosy littlepony carriage. It is a nice little two-wheeled affair. I believe theorthodox name of it is a croydon. It carries four, who sit back to back, while the back seat turns up when not wanted. It was in quite adifferent trap that I rode in on my visit to Glenveigh. During myjourney there we talked, my guide and I, of what constitutes a goodlandlord. It was a negative sort of goodness which he expected from thegood landlord--"that he would not harry the tenants with vexatiousoffice rules; that he would let them alone on their places so long asthey paid their rent; that he would not raise the rent so that all grownon the land would be insufficient to pay it. " Since the Land Leagueagitation some landlords have granted a reduction of rents, and somehave even given a bag of potatoes for seed as a gift to the poorertenants. 

The road to the new castle leads through scenery of grand mountainsolitudes, treeless, houseless and silent. Our road wound in aserpentine fashion among the mountains. The drains that regularly scorethe foggy mountain sides produce a queer effect on the landscape. 

As we wound along the serpentine road nearing the castle, the hillsseemed to get wilder and more solemn. No trace of human habitations, nosound of human life, treeless, bare, silent mountains, wastes of blackbog, rocks rising up till their solemn heads brushed the sky, --Irishgiants in ragged cloaks of heather. 

At last we came in sight of Loughveigh lying cradled among the rocks, and got a glimpse of the white tower of Glenveigh Castle. There is asmall skirting of wood near the castle where the silver barked birchprevails from which the glen takes its name, interspersed with hollytrees, which grow here in profusion, and some dark yews, prim andstately, drawn up like sentinels to guard the demesne. 

No place could be imagined more utterly alone than Glenveigh Castle. Theutter silence which Mr. Adair has created seems to wrap the place in aninvisible cloak of awfulness that can be felt. Except a speculative rookor a solitary crane sailing solemnly toward the mountain top, I saw nosign of life in all the glen. Owing to the windings of the road itseemed quite a while after we sighted the top of the tower before weentered the avenue which sweeps round the edge of the lake shore, andfinally brought us to the castle. The castle stands on a pointstretching out into the lake. Opposite, on the other side of the lake, asteep, bare, dark rock rises up to the dizzy height. It is the kind ofrock that makes one think of fortified castles, and cities built fordefence, that ought to be perched on a summit, but Glenveigh Castleshould be a lady's bower, instead of a fortalice. Behind the castle themountain slopes are clothed with young trees. The castle itself is avery imposing building from the outside; grand, strong, ratherrepellant; inside it has a comfortless; ill-planned, unfinishedappearance. The mantel-piece of white marble with the Adair arms carvedon it--the bloody hand, the motto _valor au mort_, the supporterstwo angels--lies in the hall cracked in two. A very respectableScotchman, a keeper, I suppose, showed me over the building. He mustenjoy a very retired life there, for in all the country for miles thereis not a human habitation except the police barrack that looms up like atall ghost at the other end of the lake. 

As we drove home through the mountains I noticed that Mukish wrappedherself in the misty folds of her veil. Soon after the storm rolled downthe mountain sides and chased us home. 

XII. 

GOOD-BYE TO RAMELTON--ON LOUGH SWILLY--A RUINED LANDLORD--FARM STOCK VS. WAGES--A GOOD LANDLORD--A REMINDER OF CANADA--MOVILLE--PORT-A-DORUSROCKS--ON GOOD TERMS WITH THE LANDLORD. 

Left Ramelton at seven o'clock Monday morning, April 4th, the hoar-frost lying white on the deck of the little steamer. The cabin was blackwith smoke that would not consent to go in the way it should go, so onehad to be content with the chill morning, the hoar frost and the deck. 

We steamed up past the town of Rathmullen with the two deserted fortsgrinning at one another. 

Two women of the small farming class were, like myself, sitting close tothe machinery to get warm. They were gravely discussing the value of awonderful goose owned by one of them. I do not think the owner of a fasthorse could go into greater raptures or more minute description of hisgood points than these two ladies did about the goose. One declared thatshe had been offered eight shillings ($2) for the goose and had refusedit. This is one proof of the high figure at which all animals, birds andbeasts, common to a farm are held. Although this goose was exceptionallyvaluable, yet a goose is worth five shillings or $1. 25. 

A laborer's wages is two shillings, without food, so it would take himtwo and a half days' work to earn a goose, a day's work to earn a hen ora duck, fifteen days' work to earn a suckling pig, nearly four months tobuy the cheapest cow; always considering that he has food to support himwhile so earning. I have heard poor men blamed for not raising stock. When the price of stock is considered, and that a small field forgrazing purposes is rented at L8, I confess I wonder that any poor manhas a cow. If he has, butter is now thirty cents per pound in thislocality, and a cow is therefore very valuable. 

Before I leave bonnie Ramelton behind altogether, I must say that it hasbeen in the past fortunate in a landlord. Old Sir Annesly Stewart, lordof this fair domain at one time, invariably advised his tenants whopurposed to build houses, to secure titles first, saying, "Do not trustto me, I am an old man and will soon pass away: who knows what manner ofman may succeed me? I will give a free farm grant, equivalent toguarantee deed, I am told, to anyone wanting to build. " So the owners ofhouses in Ramelton pay ground rent, while at Milford, Kilmacrennan andCreaslach the strong hand has seized the tenants' houses withoutcompensation. It is said that the present owner of old Sir Annesly'sestate, who is not a lineal descendant, however, feels as Bunyandescribes the two giants to feel, who can grin and gnash their teeth, but can do no more. 

All this and more I hear, as the sun comes up and the frost disappears, and we sail over bright waters. One might enjoy sailing over LoughSwilly, the whole of a long summer day. Everything pleasant comes to anend, and we land at Fahan, and while waiting for the train my attentionis drawn to the fair island of Inch, with its fields running up themountain side, and the damp black rocks through which the railway hascut its way at Fahan. The train comes along, and we go whirling on pastInch, Burnfoot Bridge, and into Derry. A Presbyterian doctor of divinityis in our compartment, and some well-to-do farmers' wives, and again andyet again the talk is of the land and the landlords. Instance afterinstance of oppression and wrong is gone over. 

But Derry reached, I must say good-bye to some agreeable travellingcompanions, and take the mail car to Moville for a tour roundInnishowen; Innishowen, celebrated for its poteen; Innishowen, sungabout in song, told about in story. 

 "God bless the dark mountains of brave Donegal, God bless royal Aielich, the pride of them all-- She sitteth for ever a queen on her throne, And smiles on the valleys of green Innishowen. A race that no traitor or tyrant has known Inhabits the valleys of green Innishowen. "

From Derry to Moville is, as usual, lovely--lovely with a loveliness ofits own. Fine old trees, singly, in groups, in thick plantations;beautiful fields; level clipped hedges; flowers springing everywhere, under the hedges, in little front gardens, up the banks. The land isdreadfully overrun with gentry's residences fair enough to the eye, someof them very beautiful, but one gets to wonder, if the land is so poorthat it is spueing out its inhabitants, what supports all these?

The wide Lough Foyle is in sight of the road most of the way, and a sea-bound steamer carries me away in thought to Canada. The air is nippingenough to choke sentiment in the bud. It is bitter cold, and I have thewindward side of the car, and shiver at the nodding daffodils inblooming clumps at every cottage as we pass along. There are some wasteunreclaimed fields, and the tide is out as we drive along, so that longstretches of bare blue mud, spotted with eruptions of sea weed, fit wellwith the cold wind that is enjoying a cutting sweep at us. Then we comeagain to trim gardens and ivy garnished walls. The road follows thecurves of the Lough, and we watch the black steamers ploughing along, and the brown-sailed little boats scudding before the breeze. 

The Lough is on one side, and a remarkable, high steep ridge on theother, yellow with budded whins, green with creeping ivy, and up on theutmost ridge a row of plumed pines. When I noticed their tufted topsstanding out against the sky, I felt like saying, "Hurrah! hurrah forCanada!" the pines did look so Canadian looking. I soon was recalled torealize that I was in my own green Erin, and certainly it is with a coldbreath she welcomes her child back again. 

We knew we were nearing Moville: we saw it on a distant point stretchingout into the Lough. I forgot to mention that the land began to be fullof castles as we drove along the road. We passed Red Castle and WhiteCastle and when we reached Moville, Green Castle was before us a fewmiles further down. Further down I wished to go, for a very distantrelative was expecting me there--Mr. Samuel Sloan, formerly of the RoyalArtillery, who had charge of Green Castle Fort for years; but now hasretired, and lives on his own property. I like people to claim kindredwith me; I like a hearty welcome, the _Cead mille faille ghud_, that takes you out of hotel life and makes you feel at home. I was sowelcomed by my distant kinsman and his excellent wife that I felt veryreluctant to turn out again to hotel life. 

Next day after my arrival we got a car and made an excursion down alongthe coast to Port-a-dorus. I thought I had seen rocks before, but theserocks are a new variety to me. They occur so suddenly that they are acontinual surprise. Along the coast, out in the water, they push uptheir backs in isolated heaps like immense hippopotami lying in thewater, or petrified sharks with only a tall serrated back fin visible. There would occur a strip of bare brown sand, and outside of that rowupon row of sharp, thin, jagged rocks like the jaw teeth of pre-Adamitemonsters. In other places they were piled on one another in such asudden way, grass growing in the crevices, ivy creeping over them, thelikeness of broken towers and ruined battlements, that one could hardlybelieve but that they were piled there by some giant race. 

When we had driven as far as the car could go we left car and driver, and scrambled over the rocks like goats. Rocks frowned above us, betweenus and the sky, rocks all round in black confusion. As we climbed fromslippery rock to slippery rock, over long leathery coils of thick seaweed, like serpents, on, on through the _Dorus_ to the open sea, noticing the dark passages, the gloomy caves, the recesses among thecliffs, the narrow passes, where one could turn to bay and keep offmany, it was natural to think of rebels skulking here, with a price ontheir heads, after the '98, or of lawless people stilling illicit_poteen_ to hide it from the gaugers. Sheltered by the rocks ofPort-a-dorus, I could enjoy the sea air flavored with essence of seaweed. We watched for a while the waves playing about the rocks andwashing through the door in innocent gambols. This sportfulness did notimpose upon me nor the rocks either, for the marks of the Atlantic in arage were graven on their brows in baldness and in wrinkles. 

Along the road as we drove back I noticed the white cottages of coastguardsmen who have married the maidens of the hills. They were there intheir patches of ground, delving with the spade, scattering sea weedmanure, the landlords here allowing them to gather all the sea weed thatdrifts to their shores. Decent looking men these, in their blue uniformsand thoughtful sea-beaten faces, with hardy little children around them, playing or helping. The rocks rise among the fields with the samestartling abruptness as they do along the shore, looking still more likeruins of old castles. Round these rocks and among them, in every nookand cranny where there is a spadeful of earth, is delved carefully bythese mountain husbandmen. 

As I looked at the rocks and crags, and the workers among them, I couldhardly help thinking they dearly earned all that grew upon them, although there would be no half-yearly rent hanging over them. In onelittle clearing some children were scattering manure. One, a sturdylittle maiden, but a mere baby of about seven years of age, had a forkcut down to suit her size, and was handling it with infantile vigor, laying about her with great vim. It was such a comical sight that westopped the car to watch her. As soon as she saw she was watched, shedropped the fork and scampered off to hide. A pretty little child, hardyand healthy and nimble as a goat. 

Of course on this coast there are tall, white light houses, two of themkeeping guard over the rocks. Here and there are coast guard stations, white and barrack-like, only holding blue jackets instead of red orgreen. 

The tenants along here praised their landlords. One of them, the Marquisof Donegal, was spoken of as a merciful lord all through the hard years. He had forgiven them rent which they could not pay, and lowered the rentwhen they did pay, returning them some of the money, and the poor peoplespoke of him with warm gratitude. 

I notice that the people here have a good many sheep. They are not sovery wretched as the mountaineers I saw in northern Donegal. Poor theymust be, to dig out a living from among these rocks and keep up a lordbesides, but their lord has had a more human heart toward them thanother lords over whose lands I have been. 

XIII. 

GREEN CASTLE--A LOOK INTO THE FORT--THE OLD AND THE NEW--MARS INWAITING--A KIND WORD FOR THE LANDLORDS--IN TIME FOR AN EVICTION--FEMALELAND LEAGUERS--THE "STUPID" IRISH--THE POLICE. 

Went on an exploring expedition to the ruins of Green Castle. Oneauthority told me it had been the castle of the chief of the clanDoherty, once ruling lord here in the clannish times. Another equallygood authority told me it was built by De Burgo in the sixteenth centuryto hold the natives in awe. Whoever built it, the pride of its strengthand the dread of its power have passed away forever. It is a veryextensive ruin and covers a large tract of ground. It looks as if threesolid, high, square buildings were set, not very regularly, end to end, the outer wall of one built in a semi-circle, and towers raised at everycorner and every irregularity of the wall. Of course the roof was on thefloor, turrets and towers have lost part of their height and stand, rentand ragged, tottering to their fall. 

A good deal is said about the Norman style of arch and the Saxon styleof arch found in old buildings. I am convinced that the arches of GreenCastle, and its architecture generally, had been formed on the patternof the rocks at Port-a-dorus and the other heaps along the coast. Thesame massiveness, the same wedge-like stones piled together to formarches prevail in both. 

Seaward the castle sits on a steep rock, like the rock on which Quebecsits for height, but cleaner scarped, and more inaccessible I shouldthink. To stand on the shore and look up, the castle seems perched on adizzy height, its ruined battlements and broken towers rising up intothe sky. The pretty green ivy forms a kindly hap and a garment ofbeauty, both for rock and ruin. Long live the ivy green. 

There is a clean, smooth new fort standing beside the ruined old castlelike a prosperous, solid, closely-shaven, modern gentleman besidedilapidated nobility. Its fat, broad tower looks strong enough and solidenough and grim enough for anything. Inside of the fort everything isclean, regular and orderly, as becomes a place under the care of Britishsoldiers. The house, or quarters I suppose they should be called, areclean and bright, whitewashed (I almost said pipe-clayed), to thehighest point of perfection. There are fortifications abovefortifications here, and plenty of cannon pointed at an imaginary foe. There are cannon balls in scientific heaps waiting to be despatched onerrands of destruction. Long may they wait. 

I saw the outside of the magazine, cased over with so many feet--oh, agreat number--of solid masonry, padded over that with a great many feetof earth, containing a fabulous amount of powder--tons and tons of it. Saw also the slippers which the worshippers of Mars put upon theirmartial feet when they enter into his temple--slippers without asuspicion of shod, hob nail or sparable, with which the heels of theworshippers of Ceres in this country are armed. If any one of theseintruded on this domain sacred to Mars, he would in his indignation giftthem with the feathered heels of Mercury and send them off with anabrupt message for the stars. 

Had a great desire to go up to the top of the great tower and see whatcould be seen from it. I was informed, delicately, that in thesedisturbed times it was not thought best to admit strangers. The lonelymartello tower on the opposite sands was pointed out to me, sittingmistress of desolations in the shadow of the rocks of MacGilligan. I wasinformed of the money's worth of pile work, thousands upon thousands ofpounds sterling, on which this ugly and useless tower is sitting. As Iwalked around the outside of the fort landward and seaward, I think itquite possible to take it. I make this spiteful remark because I did notget into the tower. 

On the opposite shores of the lough at the inland end of the range thatrose above and behind the martello tower where it slopes down, I saw therocky figure of a woman, gigantic, solemn, sitting with her hands on herknees looking southward. Looking for what--for the slowly approachingtime of peace, plenty and prosperity, of tardy justice and kindlyappreciation? The cost of tower and fort would give Innishowen a peasantproprietary, loyal, grateful and loving, that would bulwark the loughwith their breasts. Burns is true--a patriotic, virtuous populace formsthe best "wall of fire around our much-loved isle. "

It is not easy to get up and leave Green Castle, and the friends therewho made me feel so pleasantly at home; but hearing of evictions thatwere to take place away in the interior of Innishowen, I bid a reluctantgood-bye to Mr. And Mrs. Sloan at Green Castle, and hiring a special carset off in the direction of Carndonagh. The road lies between mountains. The valley through which the road threads its way is varied enough; inparts bog of the wildest, and barren-looking fields sloping up to asbarren, rocky mountains in their tattered covering of heather, black inits wintry aspect as yet--mountain behind mountain looking over oneanother's shoulders ever so many deep with knitted brows, wrinkled intodeep gullies. One of these mountains (Sliabh Sneach, snow mountain)deserves its name; snowy is its cap, and snow lingers in the scarredrecesses running down its shoulders. We passed fair, carefully culturedfarms and farm houses, spotlessly white under the shade of trees. Otherfarms meeting these ran up far on the mountain side. The white houses, with which the mountain sides are plentifully dotted over, show veryplainly, and are rather bare-looking and unsheltered among the darkheather. There are more dwellings on the same space in Innishowen amongthe hills than in the parts of the Donegal mountains where I have been. The people seem better off and more contented. Many of them have a kindword for their landlords. 

In no part of Innishowen that I saw is the same wretchedness and miseryapparent as I saw in "northern Donegal. " There is, there must be a lesscrushing set of office rules. As an instance of this, the car driverinformed me that the high, utterly heath-clad mountains were allowed tothe people for pasturage, with very little if anything to pay. Thisaccounts for the number of sheep I saw trotting about with lambs attheir feet, twins being the rule and even triplets far from uncommon. Myinformant told me that lambs in early autumn were worth from thirty-fiveshillings to two pounds when fit to kill. I thought this a fabulousprice, but it was confirmed to me by a cattle dealer on the train fromDerry to Limavady. If a small farmer had many lambs to sell, he wouldhave material help in making up the rent. My driver had three acres ofland; he told me if he owned it out and out, after he got it paid for, he could lived comfortably. He had two horses and a car, and let out hiscar for hire. I considered that if he got much call for his car he mightdo that--a special car for four or five miles costing $1. 25, and if thedriver is a hired man he often depends on his chance, so there must be25 cents for him also. 

It is very necessary, if one wants to see anything of the country to getoff regular routes at regular times, so posting becomes a necessity. 

Suddenly we became aware of a great crowd assembled at a group of smallhouses a little off the public road, and turned our horse's head in thatdirection. There were a great many cars--well there might be, for therewere seventy police on the ground, under the command of a police officernamed McLeod. There was an immense crowd of people, who were entirelyunarmed, not even a shillelagh among them; but if knitted brows andflashing eyes mean anything, there were men there capable, if anyincident set pent-up rage free, to imitate the men of Harlech, who, withplaided breasts, encountered mail clad men. A large proportion of thecrowd were women and girls, for there is a flourishing branch of theLadies' Land League here. 

The tenants to be evicted were, some of them, tenants of the Rev. William Crawford. I was told by what seemed good authority that thetenants did not owe much rent, but were pressed just now to punish themfor joining the Land League. It was believed that the tenants were ableto pay, but there was a strike against what they believed exorbitantrent. The evictions were to demonstrate the landlord's power to compelthem to pay. There was a great crowd. 

The policemen were formed in fours, and the crowd howled and hooted asthey proceeded to the first house, McCallion's. The policemen took up aposition convenient to the house, and a few were stationed at the door. The under sheriff was on the spot. 

The little cottage was neat and tidy, white-washed of course. I was notinside; I did not like to go; those who were said it was very clean andneat. A room with a few ornaments, a table and some chairs, and akitchen with its dresser and table, and a few chairs and stools. Therent was L14 6s. The tenant stated that he objected to pay the rent onaccount of it being too high. The family were sad-looking, but were veryquiet. A paper was presented to him to sign, acknowledging himself atenant at will, and promising to give up the holding on demand; onsigning the paper, he got a respite of six months. 

The crowd then went to the house of James McCauley, when the same formwas gone through and the same respite granted. 

The next house was John Carruthers'. Here the crowd were very muchexcited, the women screeched, the men howled, and the poor constabularycame in for unlimited hooting. 

The next place was the joint residence of Owen and Denis Quigley, jointtenants of a little patch. The cottage is in a gulley on the mountainside, about a mile of crooks and turns from John Carruthers' house. Thecrowd was very large that was gathered round the door. As the policecame up how they did howl! How they did shout, "Down with Harvey (theagent), and the Land League for ever. " Some of the women declaredthemselves willing to die for their country. 

Another man was evicted, a tenant of Mr. Hector McNeil. The rent herewas L22 3s and the valuation L18 10s. Like the rest he said he could notpay it because it was too high. 

At the next place a young lady Land Leaguer delivered a speech--MaryMcConigle, a rather pretty young girl. Her speech was a good deal offiery invective, withering sarcasm and chaff for the police, who wincedunder it, poor fellows, and would have preferred something they coulddefend themselves from--bayonets, for instance--to the forked lightningthat shot from the tongue and eyes of this female agitator. Whateverwould be the opinion of critics about it, Mary McConigle voiced thesentiments of the people and was cheered by the men and kissed by thewomen. There were a good many speeches made at different times. 

Father Bradley, a tall, sallow young priest with a German jaw, squareand strong and firm, spoke very well, swaying his hearers like oatsbefore the wind. He praised them, he sympathized with them, heencouraged them, putting golden hopes for the future just a little wayahead of them, but through it all ran a thread of good advice to them tobe self-restrained and law-abiding. I think I rather admired FatherBradley and his speech. I had a little conversation with him afterward. He said the lands were really rented too high, too high to leave for thecultivator of the soil anything but bare subsistence in the best ofyears; and when bad years followed one another, or in cases of sicknesscoming to the head of the family, want sat down with them at once. 

Mr. Cox, the representative of the Land League, was also there, and madea speech. He and some gentlemen of the press arrived in a car withtandem horses. Such grandeur impressed upon the people the belief thatthey were connected with law and landlords, so, in enquiring the way, they found the people very simple and ignorant. When they came whereroads met they were at a loss to know how to proceed, and a countrymanwhom they interrogated was both lame and stupid; when he knew, however, who Mr. Cox was, he recovered the use of his limbs and brightened up inhis intellect in a truly miraculous manner. There were other speechesduring the forenoon of the evictions from Father O'Kane, the gentlelittle priest of Moville, Mr. McClinchy, the Poor Law Guardian, andothers. 

The greatest success of the day as to speech-making was, after all, thespeech of Mary McConigle, to judge of its present effect--no one elsewas kissed. The gist of most of the speeches which I heard, or heard of, was, advising to hope, to firmness, to stand shoulder to shoulder, and acounsel to be law-abiding, wrapped up in a little discreet blarney. 

As we drove away in the direction of Carndonagh we passed on the way awing of the Ladies' Land League, marching home in procession two andtwo. A goodly number of bareheaded sonsie lasses, wrapped in theinevitable shawl; rather good-looking, healthy and rosy-cheeked werethey, with their hair snooded back, and gathered into braids sleek andshining. Brown is the prevailing color of hair among the Irish girls inthe four counties I have partly passed through. These Land Leaguemaidens reminded me of other processions of ladies which I have seenmarching in the temperance cause. They were half shame-faced, halflaughing, clinging to one another as if gathering their courage fromnumbers. 

Carndonagh, which we reached at last, is another clean, excessivelywhitewashed little town, straggling up a side hill, with any amount ofmountains looming up in the near distance. 

A little after we arrived the Carndonagh contingent of the police onduty at the evictions came driving in, horses and men both having awilted look. The drivers came in for some abuse as they took theirhorses out of the cars on the street. One old man could not at allexpress what he felt, though he tried hard to do so, and screechedhimself hoarse in the attempt. 

The police, as they alighted down off the cars, made for their barracks--a tall white house standing sentry at a corner. As one entered, alittle child toddled out to meet him with outstretched arms. He stoppedto kiss and pet the child, looking fatherly and human. I am sure thelittle kiss was sweet and welcome after the howls and hoots of the crowdand the sarcastic eloquence of Miss McConigle. I pity the police; theyare under orders which they have to obey. I have never heard that theyhave delighted in doing their odious duty harshly, and the bittercontempt of the people is, I am sure, hard to bear. 

XIV. 

THE PEASANTRY--DEARTH OF CAR DRIVERS--A PRESBYTERIAN MINISTER'S OPINIONOF THE LAND LAWS--PADDY'S LAZINESS--ILLICIT WHISKEY. 

After dinner at Cardonagh, went down to the establishment of Mrs. Binns, an outlying branch of the great factory of Mr. Tillie, of Derry. Saw theindoor workers, many in number and as busy as bees. Some of them werevery, very young. Mrs. Binns informed me that the times were harder inthis part of the country than a mere passer-by would ever suspect; thatthe clothing to be worn when going out was so carefully kept, from theambition to look decent, that they appeared respectable, while at thesame time sorely pinched for food. The employment given in this factoryis all that stands between many households and actual want. The machineshere are not run by steam, but by foot power. I noticed weary limbs thatwere beating time to work! work! work! Mrs. Binns, a kind motherlywoman, spoke earnestly of the industry, trustworthiness, self-denial, loyal affection for parents, and general kindliness that characterizedthe Irish peasantry. 

This testimony to the qualities of the Roman Catholic peasantry has beenthe universal testimony of every employer who spoke to me on thesubject. I have met with those who spoke of the native Irish, as theyspoke of the poor of every persuasion, as lazy, shiftless andextravagant. These people talked from an outside view, and looked downfrom a certain height upon their poorer neighbors. Invariably I foundthe most favorable testimony from those who came into nearest contactwith these people. As far as personal danger is concerned, havingneither power nor inclination to oppress the poor of my people, I feelfree to walk through the most disturbed districts as safely as in thedays of Brian Boru. 

To come back from that stately king down the centuries to the presenttime, I had intended to go from Carndonagh to Malin, and afterward toBuncrana, and from thence to Derry, having nearly gone round Innishowen. But this was not to be. Regular mail cars did not run on the days or inthe direction in which I wished to go. I deliberated with myself alittle, heard the comments of the people on the events of the day--theregrets that a greater force had not gathered and a greaterdemonstration been made. The women especially who had been forced toremain at home on the occasion of to-day regretted it very much. My car-man must return home to plough on the morrow; could not by any means goany further with his car just at present. I do think he is afraid. Another car in this little place is not to be had in the present stateof police demand, for they are going out for further evictions on themorrow. 

I retained the car and driver I had brought with me, and returned toMoville. My driver, a rather timid lad, told me he would not like todrive the police to these evictions and then return after dark the sameway; he would be afraid. He would not drive the police, he said, on anyaccount; he thought it wrong to do so. I noticed that, on pretence ofshowing me more of the country, he brought me back to Moville anotherway. Whether he thought I was likely to be taken for Mrs. Doherty, ofRedcastle, who was one of the evicting landholders at the present time, or only for a suspicious character, I cannot say. 

I was very glad afterward that I had not been able to carry out myoriginal intention of going to Malin, for some of the evictions therewere of a most painful character. It was better that I was spared thesight. In the case of a Mr. Whittington, whose residence, once thefinest in that locality, is now sorely dilapidated, his wife, with a newborn babe in her arms, and a large family of little children around her, were evicted. Is there not something very wrong when such things can be?Of course, when the bailiff carried out the furniture to the theroadside he was jeered and hooted at. 

All the sympathy of the press is on the side of the landlords, and nonebut the very poor, who have suffered themselves, have pity, except of avery languid kind, for scenes such as this. 

There are evictions and harassments flying about, as thick as a flightof sparrows through Innishowen at present. 

At Moville I had the pleasure of an interview with the Rev. Mr. Bell, the Presbyterian minister of that place. He has studied the subject ofthe land laws in general and as they affected his own people inparticular. Mr. Bell admits that there is great injustice perpetratedunder the Land Law as it stands; that the Land Law of 1870 gave reliefin many instances, and was intended to give more, but that numerousclauses in the bill made it possible to evade it, and it was evaded byunscrupulous men in many cases. "The necessity of a large measure ofland reform, we admit, " he says; "we must get this by constitutionalmeans. Real wrongs must be redressed by agitating lawfully, persistently, continually and patiently, till they are redressedconstitutionally. We must remain steadfast and never give in, but nevertransgress the law in any case or take it into our own hands. TheParnell agitation goes beyond this, and when they travel out of the safepath of using constitutional means, into something that leads toconfiscation of property and robbery of landlords, and a concealedpurpose, or only half concealed, of separation from England, we cannotfollow them there. "

Mr. Bell instanced many cases of gradual prosperity and attainment ofwealth among his flock, but they were exceptional cases, and there werebetter farms in the case for one thing, and leasehold tenure foranother, combining with their industry and thrift to account for thesuccess. 

I had conversation with another gentleman of this congregation, who, like many others, believed firmly in Paddy's laziness and carelessnessat home. I am very tired of these statements, for any one can see thethrifty way mountain sides, scraps amid rocks, strips of land inside therailway fences, and every spade breadth is cultivated. It is not fairfor a man who has means to judge a poorer man from the outside view ofhis case. There was a strange inconsistency in this gentleman'sopinions, for while he declared laziness to be the cause of poverty andnot the oppression of rent raised above value, yet when peasantproprietorship was mentioned as a remedy, he declared he would not takethe farms as a gift and try to raise a living out of them. 

I heard some lament the prevalence of stilling illicit whiskey inInnishowen. The excuse for doing so was to raise money for help in theprevailing poverty. They said the manufacture on the hills, whiskeybeing so easy to be had, nourished drinking customs among men and womenalike, and what was made one way was lost one hundred-fold in another. Apriest, recently deceased, a certain Father Elliott, had devoted talentsof no mean order and great loving-kindness to the work of stemming thisgreat evil. At his funeral there were between three and four thousandmembers of the temperance bands, which were the fruit of his labors. Hedied of typhus fever, and I heard his name mentioned with respectfulregret by all creeds and classes. 

XV. 

A GLIMPSE INTO THE PAST--THE DERRY OF TO-DAY--PURCHASING TENANTRIGHTS--NIBBLING AT THE TENANT RIGHT--INSTANCES OF HARDSHIP--"LIBERTY OFCONTRACT. "

At Moville I heard that there were some who had become peasantproprietors by purchasing out and out their holdings, and that they hadbitterly repented of so doing; for they had tied a millstone about theirnecks. I was advised to go to Limavady and see the Rev. Mr. Brown, whohad made the purchase for these people, and knew how the bargain wasturning out. 

I was still at Moville. I was to return to Derry by boat, a muchpreferable mode of travelling to the post car. I mistook the wharf. There are two, one hid away behind some houses, one at the Coast GuardStation standing out boldly into the water. I walked over to the mostconspicuous wharf and had the pleasure of hearing the starting bell ringbehind me, and seeing the Derry boat glide from behind the shelteringhouses and sail peacefully away up the Foyle like a black swan. Why dothey paint all the steamers black in this green Erin of ours? Well, asmy belongings were on board, there was no help for it but to take aspecial car and go after my luggage, a long, cold drive to Derry. Somuch for being stupid. 

I have been in Derry for some time. At different times I have tried toadmire it, and it is worthy of admiration; but some way it is a littledifficult to think up thoughts as one ought to think them. Thoughts willnot come to order. Besides, Derry "is an old tale and often told. "

Still, it is an event in one's life to go round the old Derry walls. Owing to the kindness of Mr. Black, I have had that sensation. Thegateways, without gates now of course, look like the arches of a bridge, and the walls like streets hung up out of the way. When one looksthrough a loop hole or over a parapet, there does a faint remembrancecome up, like a ghost, of the stirring times that have wrappedthemselves in the mist of years, and slid back into the past. I stoodover the gates--this one and that one--trying to look down the Foyletoward the point where the ships lay beyond the boom, and to fancy thefeelings of the stout-hearted defenders of Derry, as they watched withhungry eyes, and waited with sinking hearts but unflinching courage onthe relief that the infamous Colonel Kirk kept lying, a tantalizingspectacle, inactive, making no effort of succor. But the houses arethick outside the walls, and shut up the view and choke sentiment. Ofcourse I was in the cathedral, and looked at the rich memorial windowsthat let in subdued light into the religious gloom. Saw the shell whichwas thrown over with terms of capitulation, sitting in a socket on apillar in the cathedral like a dove on its nest. It might tell a tale ofwhat it saw in its flight through the air from one grim bank to theother, but it maintains a blank silence. 

Of course I looked up at Walker on his monument, and went home to readProfessor Witherow's book on the siege, which was kindly presented to meby Mr. Black, and to listen to people who scruple not to say that themonument, like the London monument of the great fire as described byPope, "Like a tall bully lifts its head and lies. "

The moderns are plucking some of the feathers of glory from the wingsfame gave to Walker. That is the way the fame of one generation isserved by another. 

Derry seems a very prosperous old maid, proud of her past, proud of herpresent. The great industry of Derry is shirt making. Was over thelargest factory, that of Mr. Tillie, whose branch factory I saw atCarndonagh. This factory employs about twelve hundred hands. These workpeople were more respectably dressed than any operatives I have seen inIreland. They all wore bonnets or hats; the mill people at Gilford andBallymena went bareheaded or with a shawl thrown over the head. In thepresent woeful depression of the linen trade, it is cheering to look atthis busy hive of industry. The shirts are cut out by machinery, thebutton holes are machine made and the machines are run by steam, a greatrelief to the operatives. This industry has prospered in Mr. Tillie'shands. He is also a landed proprietor. His own residence, Duncreggan, isvery beautiful, and the grounds about it are laid out in fine taste. 

There are now many other factories in Derry, but this is the largest. There was an effort to begin ship-building here, but it was defeated bythe parsimony of the London companies, which are extensive landlords inDerry, and would not give a secure title to the necessary land; soBelfast is the gainer and Derry the loser by so much. 

Was a Sunday in Derry. She has got faithful watchmen on her spiritualwalls. Visited a large living Sabbath-school in connection with Mr. Rodgers' church. Had the privilege of a class, and found that the littlemaidens had an appreciative knowledge of their Bibles. I hear that thereis considerable religious earnestness in Derry, especially among theyoung men. 

From Derry I ran down to Limavady to have an interview with the Rev. Mr. Brown anent the purchases made by tenants and how they were gettingalong afterward. Went down in the evening train. Behold, there was noroom for me in the inn, and there was no other hotel in the little town. This was not so pleasant. Had a letter of introduction to a person inthe town; made a voyage of discovery; found out his residence, and hewas not at home. Obtained a guide and went to the Rev. Mr. Brown's--agood _bittie_ out in the environs; found him just stepping on a carto leave for a tenant right meeting. Got a recommendation from him to aprivate house where I might, could, would or should get accommodationfor the night, and made an appointment with Mr. Brown for the morrow. 

I may here remark that the residence of the Rev. Mr. Brown is bothcommodious and elegant. As a rule the ministry are comfortably and evenstylishly housed in the North. 

The next day had an interview with Mr. Brown, a frank, able andcommunicative man. Under his agency the people had bargained for a partof the Waterford property from the Marquis of that ilk. "The Marquis wasa good and generous landlord; all his family, the Beresfords, were goodlandlords. " I had heard that said before. There were reasons why theMarquis was willing to sell, and the tenants were eager to buy. It was ahard pull for some of them to raise the one-third of the purchase money. They paid at the rate of thirty years' rent as purchase money. They arepaying now a rent and a half yearly, but hope is in the distance andcheers them on. So if they have a millstone about their necks, as myMoville friend insinuated, it will drop off some day and leave them freefor ever. Some of them have already paid the principal. 

The Marquis got such a high price for his land that he only sold two-thirds of the estate, retaining the rest in his own hands, and raisingthe rents. Some two or three of the purchasers had a good deal ofdifficulty in raising their payments, but Mr. Brown has no doubt theywill eventually pull through. 

I heard again and again, before I met with Mr. Brown, of Limavady, thatit was about thirty years since the tenants of the rich lands of theUlster settlement began to feel the landlords nibbling at their tenantright. The needy or greedy class of landlords discovered a way to evadethe Ulster custom, by raising the rents in such a way as to extinguishthe tenant right in many places. For instance, a tenant wished to sellhis interest in a certain place. The agent attended the sale to notifyparties wishing to buy that rent would be doubled to any new tenant andthere was no sale, for the place was not worth so much. The tenant'sright was more than swallowed up by the increase of rent. This was doneso successfully that were it not for the Act of 1870, there would be notrace of the Ulster custom left. 

It has been the custom from the plantation times to let the tenantsbuild, clear, fence, improve, drain, on lands let low because they werebare of improvement. The difference between what the land was worth whenthe tenant got it, and what generations of thrifty outlay of time andthe means made it was the tenant's property, and the Ulster customallowed him to sell his right to his improvements to the highest bidder. On some lands the tenant right was much more than the rent, as it shouldbe when it was made valuable by years and years of outlay; butlandlords, pinched for money, or greedy for money, naturally grudgedthat this should be, and set themselves by office rules to nip and pickthe tenant right all away. 

One great difference between the men of the lowland farms and theDonegal Celt of the hills is that they have felt and treasured up theremembrance of injustice since the settlement. Their lowland neighborsnever began to sympathize with them until they knew how it feltthemselves. In speaking of injustice and cruelty toward the hilltenants, I was often told, "Oh, these things are of the past, " theyoccurred thirty years ago. How philosophically people can endure themiseries they do not feel. The sponge has not been created that willwipe off the Donegal mountains the record of deeds that are graventhere. 

To come back to tenant right, an office rule was made giving the out-going tenant three years' rent, in some cases five years' rent for hisclaim on the farm, and "out you go. " Mr. McCausland, whose estate joinsLimavady, gave three years' rent. Since the Land Act of 1870, and sincethe eyes of the world have been turned on the doings of Ireland, he hasallowed something more for unexhausted manuring. He has also advancedmoney to some extent for improvements, adding five per cent, not to theloan, but to the rent, thus making the interest a perpetual charge onthe property. Landlords in Donegal did the same with the money they gotfrom Government to lend to the people--got it at one and a half per centfrom Government, re-lent it at five per cent, making the interest aperpetual rent charge. 

 "When self the wavering balance shakes 'Tis rarely right adjusted. "

The tenants, I think, are naturally averse to borrowing money whichbrings interest in perpetuity over them, and enables the landlord tosay, "I made the improvements myself. " Into these improvements entersthe tenant's labor, as well as the perpetual interest. 

A good man, a minister, not Mr. Brown, reasoned with me that thelandlord was sleeping partner with the tenant, that he gave the land, the tenant the labor, and both should share the profit of improvement. If the land was rent free I could see that partnership just, but as longas a man paid the rent value of the land as he got it, the improvementmade by his labor and means through the slow years should be his own. Imight think differently if I had an estate with daughters to portion, sons to establish in life, a castle to build, a fine demesne to create, or even a gambling wife or horse-racing sons tugging at my pursestrings. 

Whatever good and sufficient reasons may be found for skinning eelsalive, nothing will ever reconcile the eels to it. 

The companies of Derry, who are great landlords there, the Fishmonger'scompany, the Mercers, &c. , are following suit with the rest in evadingthe Ulster Custom. It is thought, as these companies never observed theconditions upon which these grants were made to them, but held themmerely to make money of them, they should be compelled to sell to thetenants. I agree with this. Still, if the same rule of non-fulfilment ofobligation were laid to private landlords there would be compulsion ofsale there too. The companies on the whole get the name of being betterlandlords than private individuals, and are more liberal to theirtenants. In cases of hardship the managers for the companies, not thecompanies themselves, get the blame. 

The great complaint is the landlord's power to raise the rents as oftenas he pleases. When a landlord appoints a valuator, the latterunderstands what he is to do and why he was appointed. The tenant has nosay in this matter. Where is the freedom of contract of which so much issaid? This arbitrary power of raising the rent at will irresponsibly andthus confiscating the tenant's rights, the people who are affected bythe wrong with one voice declare must cease to exist. 

Instances were given me by Mr. Brown, who, by the way, had just comehome from giving his testimony before the Bessborough Commission. A mannamed Hamilton Stewart was put out of his place, receiving three years'rent as compensation. His predecessors had bought the tenant right ofthe place; he had improved it after it fell into his hands. All hisrights, including the purchase money paid, except the three years' rent, were confiscated. 

Another case he mentioned as happening on the estate of one Major Scott. A tenant, one John Loughrey, was lost in the river. His widow died in afew months afterward, leaving two little boys absolutely orphans. Theiruncle, who lived near, offered to manage the place for the boys and topay the rent till one of them came of age. Answer--"No, we cannot allowminors to hold land on our estate. " Very much against the wishes of theuncle he was obliged to fall in with this landlord's arrangement, andfive years' rent were laid down as a settlement of the case by Mr. King, the agent. The boys' uncle thought it a great hardship to have to giveup the place the boys' father had improved, for he was a thrifty man, had some money, and was able to improve. When the five years' rent wascounted out on the table, Mr. King said to the boys' uncle, "That is themoney coming to the boys, count it. " He counted it and said, "This isfive years' rent certainly. " "Now, " said Mr. King, "there is a bad houseupon the farm; it is not in as good repair as I would like and I wouldlike a good house upon it. I will take L100 of this money and with it Iwill build a house upon the place. " He took L100 of the five years' rentand built a house that was never inhabited. The children never got thismoney back. This case was referred to again and again in public meetingsand other places till Mr. King was obliged to make an effort to explainit away. The children's uncle was rich, and they thought that, therefore, the orphans need not get all the money. Mr. Brown knew thiscase intimately, as the drowned man, his widow, and orphans were membersof his congregation. This is liberty of contract. 

The argument that the children had relatives comparatively rich was thesame argument as Captain Dopping used as a reason for not restoring whatwas robbed from the Buchanan children--their relatives were rich andtherefore they did not need it. Now, what person who was touched with atrial like this would not consider this freedom of contract absoluterobbery. In the case of the Loughrey children there had been noagreement or shadow of an agreement with the drowned man to keep up thehouse, and the house was as good as any of the neighboring houses--agood substantial farm house. This case was brought before theBessborough Commission. 

XVI. 

REMEMBRANCES OF "THE LONG AGO"--A SOAP AND WATER REMEDY NEEDED--SPOILINGFOR A FIGHT. 

After I had seen Mr. Brown, and heard how well his new proprietors weregetting along, and had given attention to the complaints of those whowere not yet peasant proprietors, I made a sudden determination to runover to Grace Hill for Easter and rest among my ain folk. Was not verywell and as home-sick for Canada as an enthusiastic Irishwoman couldafford to be. 

Found a package of letters and papers from home awaiting me and feltbetter after reading them. Made an effort for old times' sake to be atall the meetings on Easter Sunday and enjoyed them all, seasoned withearly recollections. The quaint Litany held heartfelt petitions for me. The love feast with its tea and buns so noiselessly served, brought backmany a pleasant memory. Even the minister's face, son of parents muchbeloved, had a special power of recalling other days. I felt as if in adream when I sat in Grace Hill church among the people, in the place towhich I have so often desired to return. I have felt as if, were I toturn my head as I used naughtily to do when a child, I should see thedear Miss Borg, sitting on the foot-board--a raised seat running alongthe front wall of the church when it had an earthen floor--her sweetface tinted with autumn red, bearing sweetly and graciously the burdenof consecrated years. What a spot of memories is the "God's Acre" on thehill to me, surrounded by solemn firs, shaded by spreading sycamores. 

Rose up in the morning and left Grace Hill behind me once more. Passedinto Derry and found that veteran maiden lady quite well, with a smallstir on her streets caused by the Land League meeting. Heard no onespeak of it at all, no more than if it had not been, while I waited somehours for the Omagh train. 

This train, like all third-class trains, which I have yet seen, including one second-class train, by which I travelled a little way, wasextremely filthy. One would think a little paint or even soap and waterwere contraband of war as far as these cars are concerned. Aftersteaming a short distance the solitary lamp went out for want of oil. When the cars were stopped at the next station we were told to go intoanother compartment that had a lamp--they never seemed to think for amoment of replenishing with oil the lamp in the compartment where wewere. The compartment into which we were moved was pretty full already. A good many were smoking strong tobacco, some were far gone in the tipsydirection, one of whom was indulging very liberally in profanity. I wasthe only woman in the compartment; but my countrymen, as always, werepolite, inconveniencing themselves for my accommodation. Even theprofane person made a violent effort to curb his profanity when henoticed me. 

A good many of these persons were going to the Land League meeting. Onerespectable man spoke to me of the high rate of land and the miseries ofthe poor, but acknowledged that there were wealthy farmers in Tyrone. Herecommended me to a nice quiet hotel near the railway, but it being lateand I feeling a little strange, went to the best hotel in the town, the"White Hart, " where I was received with uncommon kindness and attention, and allotted a quiet, comfortable bedroom away from the noise of thestreet. 

In preparation for the Land League meeting the next day the followinglively placard was posted in Omagh:

"A general public meeting, with bands and banners, of the Tyrone OrangeLeaguers against the murderous, blood-stained, seditious Popish League, commonly called the Irish National Land League, will be held in Omagh onThursday, April the 21st, 1881, to consider the terms of the Land Bill, and transact other necessary business. A protest will be made at thismeeting against the introduction of the principle among the Protestantpeople of Tyrone that it is good to murder Protestants under the guiseof a Land Reform cry. The Land Leaguers have proved themselves murderersand robbers! Why allow the system to be introduced into Tyrone? They areboasted rebels. The swindler Parnell stated in his speech in Cincinnati, 'We will not be satisfied till we have destroyed the last link whichkeeps Ireland bound to England. ' It is now sought to have this disloyalsociety and association of murderers established in Omagh. They tried inDungannon first, but the Orangemen frustrated the design. The Orangemenof Omagh and neighborhood know well how to shoulder their rifles. Letthem be ready. Trust in God and keep your powder dry! No peace withRome. No surrender. By order of the Committee. "

This proclamation was pulled down by the police, but people seemed toexpect a faction fight. There was a great force of constabulary in town, and military also. It was pointed out to me how skilfully they wereposted, the military entirely out of sight, but in readiness. There weretwos and threes here and there, lounging about apparently, but with eyesalert and watchful. 

XVII. 

HONORED AS MISS PARNELL--A LAND LEAGUE MEETING--AN EXPENSIVE DOCUMENT--THE LAND LAW DISCUSSED. 

In the morning a good many police were scattered about the corners, butno massing of them. All the fiery placards had completely disappeared. Iwas a little astonished at the scrupulous courtesy with which I wastreated, a guide volunteering to show me the place of meeting. Found outafterward that when I arrived at the hotel I was mistaken for MissParnell, and felt highly flattered. Omagh was quiet enough; no more stirthan would be likely for a fair or market day. No sign or sight of acounter Orange demonstration. The meeting was held in a field on theoutskirts of the town, on the property of a gentleman, whose name Iforget, but who was described as a very good, kind and consideratelandlord. 

On the highest ground in the field a rather slenderly put up platformwas erected, while farther back and lower down a large tent was pitchedfor the banquet which was to follow the speechifying. The platform, slightly railed in and protected by a primitive gate, was furnished withtwo tables and a number of chairs. As soon as I came near the platform agentleman opened the little gate which admitted into the sacredenclosure and invited me to a seat on the platform. I accepted gladly, for I was very tired. Not knowing the mistake under which the peoplelabored, I wondered at the respectful attention that was directed to me. Groups of people came and stared at me through the board enclosure, togo away and be succeeded by other groups, mostly ladies of the country-bred kind. Finally I drew my chair to the back of the platform to bemore out of the way, and sat there watching the crowd gather. 

The crowd was assembling slowly in dozens and half dozens stragglingalong, no great enthusiasm apparent at all. The great majority worecorduroys of a great many varieties of color and states of preservationor dilapidation. The irrepressible small boys were clustering over theslight fence that surrounded the platform, crawling under it, roostingon top of it, squatting round my chair and smiling up at me as if theyexpected a universal pat on the head. 

The time for the meeting arrived, and with it a squad of reporters, whomonopolised one table, all the chairs but one, and proceeded to makethemselves at home, producing their pencils and note books in abusiness-like manner. The crowd clustered at the back of the platformbegan to fling jokes from one to the other about penny-a-liners. Twopolicemen, one tall, blonde, pleasant featured, one short, dark androsy-cheeked, arrived next with their note books and pencils. There werea few more policemen at the entrance gate into the field, one soldierstanding carelessly on the road, an unconcerned spectator to allappearance. 

Presently the straggling crowd began to concentrate round the platform. The women who were peeping into the tent and the men who were helpingthem forsook that pleasing occupation and made for the platform at adouble quick trot. Many voices said, "yon's them. " Looking along theroad toward the town black with the coming crowd, I saw a waggonettedrawn by four horses, gallant greys, coming along at a spanking pace. 

The crowd around me disputed whether the driver was able to bring hisfour in hand safely through the rather narrow gate, which involved asharp turn, but he did, and drew up inside with a flourish, to the greatadmiration of all. The gentlemen came on the platform, Mr. Dillon, ahalf dozen or so of priests and some other gentlemen. There was a goodlynumber of people assembled; still not as many as I expected to see. There were not many thousands at all. The faces of the crowd were not byany means so fine as the faces of the Donegal peasantry. They were mixedfaces, all but a few seemed simple country people, some of the heavy, low English type, some keen and Scotch, some low Irish. The women werenot so fair skinned and rosy as the mountain lasses. There were a goodmany ladies and gentlemen present. I do not think all who were presentwere in favor of the Land League, by the remarks which reached me, butthe large majority were. As none of the gentlemen speakers spoke to mewhen they came on the platform, I lost my prestige at once. 

The first speakers, not accustomed to pitch their voices so as to beheard by a crowd, were quite inaudible where I sat. On the contrary, every word Mr. Dillon said was distinct and clearly audible. He has aclear voice, pleasant to listen to after those who preceded him. He istall, slim, rather good-looking, very black hair, which he wears long, and which was so smooth and shining that it made him look like anIndian, and truly he is as well made, lithe and nervous-looking as one. His manner is cold and clear and self-repressed; not a word but tells. His speech was exactly the same as he gave in Derry. He did not approveof the Land Bill--and I had thought it so good--but he pointed out agreat many defects in it. Faults I never should have suspected to bethere, were picked out and brought to view. 

A very telling speech was made by a dark, thin, wiry man named O'Neil. His speech dealt with the hardships which they had passed through owingto excessive rents and hard years of poor crops. He spoke what thepeople felt, for many a voice chorused, "True for you; we know thatwell. " In the middle of the speeches the platform prepared to breakdown, but only collapsed in the middle and fell half way and stopped. Two of the priests spoke also, and spoke well to judge by the people'sapplause. No one spoke in favor of the Bill. 

I thought as I sat there of the remark made to me by a Catholicgentleman of Innishowen, who said: "The Irish people have hoped in vainso long, have been deceived so often, that it is hard now to win theirconfidence. " The more I move through the country the more I believethis. Mr. Dillon was the idol of the assembly, that was easy to be seen. A few words with him, a touch of his hand, was an honor. He apologizedfor Mr. Parnell's absence, who being elsewhere could not possibly be atOmagh that day. I left before the meeting was over. 

As far as I hear from the Common people themselves, they think the lawand the administrators of it sympathize with the landlords only, and letthat sympathy influence their decisions. They are, therefore, veryaverse to go to law to obtain what they consider justice from alandlord. 

Another great complaint that I hear again and again is the expenseattendant on a transfer of property. As an instance, a little propertyof the value of a hundred pounds changed hands when I was in Ramelton. The deed of transfer was a parchment as big as a table-cloth, and costL10. 

XVIII. 

IRISH HUSBANDRY--A DESCRIPTION OF LORD LEITRIM--ABOVE AND BELOW THESALT--LANDLORD AND TENANT

The valley through which the railway passes from Derry to Omagh is onelong stretch of beauty, fertility and careful tillage. Every field, whatever its shape, is cultivated up to the fence and into the cornerswith a mathematical nicety. The regular fields, the green separatingditches with their grassy covering, the hills cultivated to the verytops, and the trees growing here and there all over made a landscapethat should delight the heart of a farmer. Whenever I come to carelesshusbandry, I will be sure to record it. I have seen nothing of the kindyet on mountain side or valley. I do not wish to fling a rose-coloredveil over everything because it is Irish. 

The country is simply beautiful--no works can do justice to it. Stillthere are some things one could find fault with freely. Between Omaghand Strabane I took a third-class car. It was dirty, of course, horriblydirty, but, as Mrs. McClarty said, "the dirt was well dried on, " and itwas almost empty, so I entered. At a way station a great crowd, greatcompared to the size of the compartment, came surging in. Every man hada clay pipe, every man had a supply of the most villanous tobacco. I donot wonder the Government taxes such tobacco, that it has to be sold bylicense--some would not grieve if the duty were prohibitory. 

Soon matches were struck, a tiny flash and a fusilade of reports liketoy pistols--all matches here go off like that. Every man began to smokefor dear life, and smoked furiously with great smacks and puffs. And thefloor! when the mud of many days that had hardened and dried there wasmoistened again by tobacco juice! Soon the compartment was filled withsmoke, there was literally nothing else to breathe. The car began toheave about like a ship at sea. Fortunately we stopped at a station andsome on board got out, so that there was an opportunity of getting closeto the door and letting down the glass and a faint was prevented. 

It was not pleasant to sit there craning one's neck round to breathe atthe window, for the seats ran lengthways of the carriage, and keepingall crushed up to keep out of the way of a cross fire of tobacco juicefrom the opposite benches. Made a vow there and then against third-classcarriages. 

When the train stopped at Strabane was quite dizzy and sick and tookrefuge in the first 'bus, which 'bus belonged to that superfineestablishment, the "Abercorn Arms. " Was informed that the late LordLeitrim had stopped there a day or two before his death on his way toManorvaughan. "Stopped in this very room, " said my informant. "He lefthere on the Sabbath day in his own carriage for Manorvaughan; he had notmuch reverence for the day. He was a very old man, walked lame with oneleg, had a fiery face and very white hair. I did think they might haverespected his gray hair. He had not long to live anyway, they might havespared him. " He rested one day at Manorvaughan, the next day he set outfor Milford and was killed. 

"Why did they murder him?"

"They said he was a cruel landlord. Yes, a very bad landlord they saidhe was. He was very impatient to get away from here that morning. Helittle thought he was hurrying to his death. "

From Strabane took the Finn Valley Railway, and went off on a voyage ofdiscovery to Rusky. 

From Killiegordon took a first class ticket, as the distance was short, to see what first-class passengers enjoyed. There is a great differenceindeed between first and third. Third-class is a penny a mile, first istwo pence half-penny; third is simply horrible with filth, first is asluxurious as carpets, curtains, cushions, spring seats and easy chairscan make it. There is not nearly so much difference in price, asdifference in style. As a first-class passenger I was assisted in andout, and the door held open for me; as third or second-class one can getin or out as they please for all the officials care. There is a verywide difference in every respect between those above and those below theline which separates "gentry from commonality. " Of course I am usinglocal words. Gentry are expected to have a well-filled and an open hand. If they have not both, what business have they to set up for gentry?Popular opinion thinks of them as Carleton's hedge scholar expressedhimself, "You a gentleman? No, nor one of your breed, seed or generationever was, you proctoring thafe you!"

Now the line of demarcation between the people trained by ages to standwith open hand expecting a gift, and those to whom a gift is an insultis hard to find sometimes. A young lad, a sharp boy, had been my guideto two or three places and carried my bag for me. I offered him pay, forpay had been expected from me by every one with whom I came in contactfrom the moment I landed. Tears came into the poor lad's eyes withmortified anger. One feels bad to hurt anyone's feelings, and betweenthose who have a desire for a gift and are hurt if they do not get one, and those to whom offering a gift is the worst form of insult, one issometimes puzzled to know what to do. 

I find a very strong feeling in some places where I have been inconnection with the contempt which some owners of the soil feel for thecultivators of it. A landlord--lately an attorney in a country town--who has succeeded, most unexpectedly, to a great estate, takes no painsto conceal the contempt in which he holds his tenants. He sauntered intoa shop, also the post-office of the town, and in the course ofconversation informed them that his tenantry were a lazy lot ofblackguards. Two of his tenants were present standing in the shop. Hedid not know them, but they knew him. To the eyes of an outsider likemyself the tenants seemed the more gentlemanly of the two parties. Thisgentleman, it was explained to me by his tenants, was not a specimen ofthe usual landlord, who, whatever the fault of the land law might bewhich they believed in and ruled their conduct by, they were gentlemenwho would not degrade themselves by such an utterance. 

The idea is brought forward to me again and again that the best landlordclings to the power to oppress, absolute unquestioned power to do as helikes with his tenantry though he might never exercise it. TheProtestants of Derry, Donegal, Tyrone, farmers with whom I have had theopportunity to converse, all refer to this fact. The good landlordconsiders it an infringement of his rights as a landlord, to take away apower he is too kind to use, although he will admit that some have usedit unmercifully. 

A recent speech of Lord Lifford's complains that things are now claimedas a right that used to be regarded as a favor on the part of thelandlords. There is a strong, deep feeling among the best of the tenantsagainst such utterances as these and the spirit behind them. 

XIX. 

LANDLORD AND TENANT--THE LAND QUESTION FROM BOTH SIDES. 

As far as I have travelled yet, in the mountains of Donegal, throughDerry, Antrim, Tyrone and Down, I have seen no trace of what Dr. Hepworth lays to the charge of the Irish--laziness, never cultivating aholding up to the line or into the corners. What excited my wonder againand again, is the fact that up to the boundary ditch or hedge, into thecorners, up to the very edge of the rocks the tillage extended. I sawmen dig up little fields entirely with the spade among the sudden rocksof Port-a-dorus. Some of the patches a horse with a plough attachedcould not turn in, yet they were tilled; there was not a spade's breadthleft in any corner. And they paid high rent for this ground, rocks andall. They fell behind in famine time--not so very far--and humblygrateful were they for the help that came from outside in that time, anda mercy that forgave a little of the rent. I saw men digging on themountain-side on the Leitrim estate, and wondered how they could keeptheir footing. As far as I have seen, it is a slander on the people tosay they are averse to labor. On the contrary, they are very laborious, and singularly uncareful for their personal comfort. I heard a fellow-countryman at Moville talk of Paddy's laziness. I pointed out to him howcarefully mountain-side and rough bog were cultivated. He admitted it, but spoke of want of rotation of crops and absence in many instances offall-ploughing. This, I humbly consider, is want of skill, or maybe wantof means--not laziness. 

Every one says that the country depends almost solely on agriculture;agriculture rests on farm labor; farm labor pays rents high enough toproduce periodical famine. The L90, 000 rental of one estate, the L40, 000of another, is all produced by these lazy people. If there were any spotso rocky, so wild, that it was under no rent, one might think them lazyif they failed to make a living out of it, but they make a living andhelp to support a landlord, too, out of these rocks and morasses. I hopeto see life farther south, and see if these lazy people exist there. They do not exist in the north so far as I have seen. 

It seems to me that the tenant-farmers have been out of sightaltogether. Now they have waked up, and there is no power to put them tosleep again. I am more than astonished to find not one intelligentperson to defend the Land laws. There is no possibility of understandingprevious apathy from an American standpoint unless we think of thethoughtlessness with which the Indians have been treated. Thethoughtless landlord has looked upon his own needs according to therequirements of his station, not thinking whether the tenant could payso much or not, and, whether, if the rent was raised, it left the meansof existence behind. I met with very estimable people, who were taking avery high rent; higher than any man could honestly pay, and at the sametime laughing at the poverty-stricken devices of their tenants. They didnot think. 

It must be borne in mind that there was a famine in the land but a shorttime ago, that these thousands and thousands of people who are undereviction now have no money and no place to go to but the ditch-back, orthe workhouse. The workhouse means the parting with wife and children. These things must be taken into consideration, to understand theexasperation of mind which is seething through the whole country. 

I do not think the people here, generally speaking, have any idea of theamount or intensity of hidden feeling. I confess it frightens me. Istayed in a country place for a week. I boarded with a family who weremuch better off than their neighbors. They were favorites at the officeof the landlord, and paid him their rent punctually. I often sat at thekitchen hearth as neighbor after neighbor came in in the evening andtold in Irish the tale of some hard occurrence that had taken place. Iunderstood enough to guess the drift of the story. I understood well thelanguage of eye and clinched hand with which my host listened. Thepeople who suffered were his people; their woe was his; he felt for thema sympathy of which the landlord never dreamed; but he never said aword. I thought as I sat there--silent too--that I would not like to bethat landlord and, in any time of upheaval, lie at the mercy of thisfavorite tenant of his. 

They talk of agitators moving the people! Agitators could not move themwere it not that they gave voice to what is in the universal heart ofthe tenantry. 

A gentleman connected with the press said to me to-day: "The fact isthat any outrage, no matter how heart-rending, committed by a landlordupon his tenantry is taken little notice of--none by Government--butwhen a tenant commits an outrage, no matter how great the provocation, then the whole power of the Government is up to punish. "

One great trouble among the people is, they cannot read much, and theyfeel intensely; reading matter is too dear, and they are too poor toeducate themselves by reading. What they read is passed from hand tohand; it is all one-sided, and "who peppers the highest is surest toplease. "

The ignorance of one class, consequent upon their poverty, theinsensibility of another class, are the two most dangerous elements thatI notice. It is easy to see how public sympathy runs, in the mosteducated classes. There is great sympathy, publicly expressed, forCaptain Boycott and his potatoes; for Miss Bence-Jones, driven to thedegrading necessity of milking the cows; but I have watched the papersin vain for one word of sympathy with that pale mother of a family, withher new-born infant in her arms, set upon the roadside the day I was atCarndonagh. Policemen have been known to shed tears executing the law;bailiffs have been known to refuse to do their duty, because themother's milk was too strong in them; but the public prints express noword of sympathy. 

In the papers where sympathy with the people is conspicuous by itsabsence, there will be paragraph after paragraph about prevention ofcruelty to animals. I had the honor of a conversation with a lady ofhigh birth and long descent, and, as I happen to know, of great kindnessof heart, a landlady much beloved by a grateful and cared-for tenantry. I remarked to her that justice seemed to me to be rather one-sided:"There is much difference unavoidably between one class and another, butthere are three places where all classes should stand on an equality--on a school room floor, in a court of justice, in the house of God. " "Iwould agree with you so far, " said the lady, "that they should be on alevel when they come before God. " I am sure there would be no agitationnor need of coercion if all the landladies and landlords were like thiskind-hearted lady in practice. 

Another instance of kindly thought on the part of another landlady. Thefamine left many a poor tenant without any stock at all; every creaturewas sacrificed to keep in life. This lady bought cows for her tenantswho were in this sad plight. She left the cows with them until a calfgrew up into a milking cow; then the cow was sold to pay the landladythe money invested. If the cow sold for more than was paid for it thebalance was the tenant's, and he had the cow besides. "Thus, " said thelady to me, "I benefitted them materially at no expense of money, only alittle. " This lady, who claims and receives the homage of her tenantsfor the ould blood and the ould name, has by these acts of inexpensivekindness, chained her tenants to her by their hearts. "It's easy tosee, " said one to me, "that the ould kindly blood is in her. "

There have been many humble petitions for reduction of rent; many havebeen granted, more have been refused. The reasons given in one casewere, a ground-rent, a heavy mortgage, an annuity, and legacies. Thequestion whether one set of tenants was able to meet all these burdens, not laid on by themselves mind, and live, never was taken intoconsideration for a moment. 

When I arrived in Ireland, I met with an English gentleman who took alively interest in the purpose for which I crossed the sea, namely, tosee what I could see for myself and to hear what I could hear for myselfon the Land Question. He volunteered a piece of advice. "There are twodifferent parties connected with the Land Question, the landlords andthe tenants. They are widely separated, you cannot pass from one to theother and receive confidence from both. If you wait upon the landlordsyou will get their side of the story; but, then, the tenants willdistrust you and shut their thoughts up from you. If you go among thetenants you will not find much favor with the landlords. You must choosewhich side you will investigate. "

Considering this advice good, I determined to go among the people andfrom that standpoint to write my opinions of what I saw and heard. Imade up my mind to tell all I could gather of the opinions andgrievances of the poor, knowing that the great are able to defendthemselves if wrongfully accused, and can lay the land question, as theysee it, before the world's readers. 

I hear many take the part of the landlords in this manner: "You aresorry for the tenants, who certainly have some cause of complaint; canyou not spare some sympathy for the landlords who bought these lands ata high figure, often borrowing the money to buy them and are getting noreturn for the money invested?"

Land hunger is a disease that does not attack the tenants alone. Thepoor man hungers for land to have the means of living; the rich manhungers for land because it confers rank, power and position. As soon asmen have realized fortunes in trade they hasten to invest in land. Thatis the door by which they hope to enter into the privileged classes. Menaccustomed to "cut things fine, " in a mercantile way, are not likely toexcept a land purchase from the list of things which are to pay cent. Per cent. The tenant has created a certain amount of prosperity, the newlandlord looks at the present letting value of the land and raises therent. This proceeding extinguishes or rather appropriates the TenantRight. The landlord thinks he is doing no wrong, for, is he not actuallycharging less than Lord So-and-so, or Sir Somebody or other? which isperhaps very true. All this time the tenant knows he has been robbed ofthe result of years, perhaps of generations of hard and continuouslabor. It is impossible to make such a landlord and such a tenant seeeye to eye. 

A gentleman asked a lady of Donegal if she would shut out the landlordfrom all participation in profits arising from improvements andconsequent increase in the value of the land. I listened for the answer. "I would give the landlord the profits of all improvements he actuallymade by his own outlay; I would not give him the profits arising fromthe tenant's labor and means. " Now I thought this fair, but thegentleman did not. He thought that all profit arising from improvementsmade by the tenant, should revert to the landlord after a certain time. I could not think that just. 

As a case in point, a brother of Sir Augustus Stewart said to a Rameltontenant:

"My brother does not get much profit from the town of Ramelton. "

"He gets all he is entitled to, his ground rent, we built the housesourselves, " was the answer. 

These people are safe, having a secure title, not trusting to the UlsterCustom or the landlords' sense of justice. 

I have not been much among landlords. I did sit in the library of alandlord, and his lady told me of the excessively picturesque povertyprevailing in some parts, citing as an instance that a baby was nursedon potatoes bruised in water, the mother having hired out as wet-nurseto help to pay the rent. There was no cow and no milk. I had a graphicdescription of this family, their cabin, their manner of eating. Themother cannot earn the rent any longer and they are to be evicted. I wastold they were quite able to pay, but trusting to the Land League hadrefused. 

Naturally what I have seen and heard among the poor of my people, hasinfluenced my mind. I could not see what I did see and hear what I didhear of the tyranny wrought by the late Earl of Leitrim, and the presentCaptain Dobbing, or walk through the desolation created by Mr. Adair, without feeling sad, sorry and indignant. 

XX. 

LORD LIFFORD--THE DUKE OF ABERCORN--WHOLESALE EVICTIONS--GOING SOUTH--ENNISKILLEN--ASSES IN PLENTY--IN A GRAVEYARD. 

On the banks of the Finn, near Strabane, was born the celebrated heroFinn ma Coul. I think this just means Finlay McDougall, and, therefore, claim the champion as a relative. Strabane lies in a valley, with roundcultivated hills, fair and pleasant to the eye, swelling up round it. Near it is the residence of Lord Lifford. I have heard townspeoplepraise him as a landlord, and country people censure him, so I leave itthere. His recent speech, in which he complains of the new Land Bill, that, if it passes into law, it will give tenants as a right what theyused to get as a favor from their landlords, has the effect ofexplaining him to many minds. 

Leaving Strabane behind, went down or up, I know not which, to Newtown-Stewart, in the parish of Ardstraw (_ard strahe_, high bank of theriver). In this neighborhood is the residence of the Duke of Abercorn, spoken of as a model landlord. 

The Glenelly water mingles with the Struell and is joined by the Derg, which forms the Mourne. After the Mourne receives the Finn at Lifford itassumes the name of the Foyle and flows into history past Derry's walls. 

At the bridge, as you enter the town of Newtown-Stewart, stands thegable wall of a ruined castle, built by Sir Robert Newcomen, 1619, burned by Sir Phelim Roe O'Neil along with the town, rebuilt by LordMountjoy, burnt again by King James. 

Upon a high hill above the town, commanding a beautiful view of thecountry far and wide, stand the ruins of the castle of Harry Awry O'Neil(contentious or cross Harry), an arch between two ruined towers beingthe only distinct feature left of what was once a great castle. Thiscastle commanded a view of two other castles, owned and inhabited by twosons or two brothers of this Harry Awry O'Neil. These three castles wereseparate each from each by a river. Here these three lords of the O'Neilslept, lived and agreed, or quarrelled as the case might be, ruling overa fair domain of this fair country. I do not think the presentgeneration need feel more than a sentimental regret after the days ofstrong castles and many of them, and hands red with unlimited warfare. 

Towering up beyond Harry Awry's castle is the high mountain of BaissieBaal, interpreted to me altar of Baal. I should think it would meandeath of Baal. (Was Baal ever the same as Tommuz, the Adonis ofScripture?) In the valley beyond is a village still named Beltane (Baalteine--Baal's fire), so that the mountain must have been used at onetime for the worship of Baal. The name of the mountain is now corruptedinto Bessie Bell. 

In the valley at the foot of the mountain is the grand plantation thatstretches miles and miles away, embosoming Baronscourt, the seat of theDuke of Abercorn, and the way to it in the shade of young forests. Thereare nodding firs and feathery larches over the hills, glassingthemselves in the still waters of beautiful lakes. Lonely grandeur andstately desolation reign and brood over a scene instinct with peasantlife and peasant labor some years ago. The Duke of Abercorn was counteda model landlord. His published utterances were genial, such as a goodlandlord, father and protector of his people would utter. Some one whothought His Grace of Abercorn was sailing under false colors, that hispublic utterances and private course of action were far apart, publishedan article in a Dublin paper. This article stated that the Duke hadevicted over 123 families, numbering over 1, 000 souls, not for non-payment of rent, but to create the lordly loneliness about Baronscourt. His Grace did not like tenantry so near his residence. Those tenants whosubmitted quietly got five years' rent--not as a right, but as a favorgiven out of his goodness of heart. They tell here that these evictionsinvolved accidentally the priest of the parish and an old woman overninety, who lay on her death-bed. He had called upon the priestpersonally and offered ground for a parochial house; he forgot hispurpose and the priest continued to live in lodgings from which he wasevicted along with the farmer with whom he lodged. Of the evictedfamilies 87 were Catholics and 36 Protestants. If they had been allowedto sell their tenant right they might have got farms elsewhere. Of thosecleared off seventeen who were Protestants and six who were Catholicsgot farms elsewhere from His Grace. Some sank into day laborers, somevanished, no one knows where. 

People here say that the reason why there are Fenians in America andpeople inclined to Fenianism at home is owing to these large evictions--clearances that make farmers into day laborers at the will of the lordof the land. The people feel more bitterly about these things when theyconsider injustice is perpetrated with a semblance of generosity. Nothing--no lapse of time nor change of place or circumstances--evercauses anyone to forget an eviction. Now they say that the Duke ofAbercorn holds this immense tract of country on the condition of rootingthe people in the soil by long leases, not on condition of evicting themout; therefore, he has forfeited his claim to the lands over and overagain. This article, published in a Dublin paper, was taken no publicnotice of for a time, but when sharply contested elections came round, the Duke and four others, sons and relations, were rejected at the pollsbecause of the feeling stirred up by these revelations. Such is thepopular report of the popular Duke of Abercorn. 

Omagh is a pretty, behind-the-age country town. The most splendidbuildings are the poor-house, the prison, and the new barracks. Thehotels are very dear everywhere; they seem to depend for existence oncommercial travellers and tourists. Tourists are expected to be preparedto drop money as the child of the fairy tale dropped pearls anddiamonds, on every possible occasion, and unless one is able to assertthemselves they are liable to be let severely alone as far as comfort isconcerned, or attendance; but when the _douceur_ is expected plentyare on hand and smile serenely. 

Left Omagh behind and took passage for Fermanagh's capital, Enniskillenof dragoon celebrity. The road from Omagh to Enniskillen showed some, Iwould say a good deal, of waste, unproductive land. Land tufted withrushes, and bare and barren looking--still the fields tilled werescrupulously tilled. The houses were the worst I had yet seen on theline of rail, as bad as in the mountains of Donegal, worse than any Isaw in Innishowen. I wonder why the fields are so trim and the homes inmany cases so horrible. Not many, I may say not any, fine houses on thisstretch of country. 

Arrived at Enniskillen on market day, towards the close of April. Thenumber of asses on the market is something marvellous. Asses in smallcarts driven by old women in mutch caps, asses with panniers, theharness entirely made of straw, asses with burdens on their backs laidover a sort of pillion of straw. I thought asses flourished at Cairo andDover, but certainly Enniskillen has its own share of them. The faces ofthe people are changed, the tongues are changed. The people do not seemof the same race as they that peopled the mountains of Donegal. 

A little while after my arrival, taking a walk, I wandered into an oldgraveyard round an old church which opened off the main street. Underneath this church is the vault or place of burial of the Colefamily, lords of Enniskillen--a dreary place, closed in by a gloomyiron gate. A very ancient man was digging a grave in this old graveyard, sacred, I could see by the inscriptions, to the memory of many of thestout-hearted men planted in Enniskillen, who held the land they hadsettled on against all odds in a brave, stout-hearted manner. None ofthe dust of the ancient race has mouldered here side by side with theirconquerors. There was a dragoonist flavor about the dust; a militaryflourish about the tombstones. A. , of His Majesty's regiment; B. , officer of such a battalion of His Majesty's so-and-so regiment; C. , D. , and all the rest of the alphabet, once grand officers in His Majesty'sservice, now dust here as the royal majesties they served are dustelsewhere. Went over to the ancient grave-digger, who was shovelling outin a weakly manner decayed coffin, skull, ribs, bones, fat earth--so fatand greasy-looking, so alive with horrible worms. He was so very old andinfirm that, after a shovelful or two, he leaned against the grave sideand _peched_ like a horse with the heaves. 

"How much did he get for digging a grave?"

"Sometimes a shilling, sometimes one and six, or two shillings, accordin' as the people were poor or better off. "

"How were wages going?"

"Wages were not so high as they had been in the good times before thefamine. A man sometimes got three-and-six or four shillings then; now hegot two shillings. "

"And board himself?"

"Oh, yes, always board himself. "

"Some people now want a man to work for a shilling and board himself, but how could a man do that? It takes two pence to buy Indian mealenough for one meal. You see there would be nothing left to feed afamily on. "

A stout, bare-legged hizzie appeared now, and kindly offered the old mana pinch of snuff out of a little paper to overcome the effects of thesmell, and keep it from striking into his heart. This was one errand; tofind out who was talking to him was another. She did not; we gave thepoor old fellow a sixpence and moved away. 

XXI. 

ENNISKILLEN MILITARY PRIDE--THE BOYS CALLED SOLDIERS--REMNANTS OF BY-GONE POWER--ISLAND OF DEVENISH--A ROUND TOWER--AN ANCIENT CROSS--THECOLE FAMILY

Owing to the very great kindness of Mr. Trimble, editor of theFermanagh Reporter, we have seen some of the fair town of Enniskillen. Knowing that Innis or Ennis always means island, I was not surprised tofind that Enniskillen sits on an island, and is connected with themainland by a bridge at either end of the town. Of course, the town hasboiled over and spread beyond the bridges, as Derry has done over andbeyond her walls. There is a military flavor all over Enniskillen, akind of dashing frank manner and proud steps as if the dragoon had gotinto the blood. There is also nourished a pride in the exploits ofEnniskillen men from the early times when they struggled to keep theirfeet and their lives in the new land. They feel pride in the fame of theEnniskillen dragoon, in the deeds of daring and valor of the 27thEnniskilleners all over the world. Enniskillen military pride is closelyconnected with the Cole family, lords of Enniskillen. 

The town is not old, only dating back to the reign of the sapient Jamesthe First. Remembrance of the sept of Maguires who ruled here beforethat time, still lingers among the country people. 

Had a sail on Lough Erne at the last of April; tried to find wordssufficiently strong to express the beauty of the lake and found none. Itis as lovely as the Allumette up at Pembroke. I can not say more thanthat. The banks are so richly green, the hills so fertile up to theirround tops, checked off by green hedges into fields of all shapes andsizes; the trees lift up their proud heads and fling out their greatarms as if laden with blessing; the primroses, like baby moons, more innumber than the stars of heaven, glow under every hedge and gem everybank, so that though the Lake Allumette is as lovely as Lough Erne, yetthe banks that sit round Lough Erne are more lovely by far than theborders of Lake Allumette. They are as fair as any spot under heaven intheir brightness of green. 

Sailing up the lake or down, I do not know which, we passed the ruins ofPortora old castle; ruined towers and battered walls, roofless andlonely. Kind is the ivy green to the old remnants of by-gone power ormonuments of by-gone oppression, happing up the cold stones, and drapinggracefully the bare ruins. 

The Island of Devenish, or of the ox, is famed for the good quality ofits grass. Here we saw the ruins of an abbey. It has been a very largebuilding, said to have been built as far back as 563. The ruins show itto have been built by very much better workmen than built the moremodern Green Castle in Innishowen. The arches are of hewn stone and arevery beautifully done without the appearance of cement or mortar. Theround tower, the first I ever saw, was a wonderful sight to me. It is 76feet high, and 41 in circumference. The walls, three feet thick, builtwith scarcely any mortar, are of hewn stone, and I wondered at the skillthat rounded the tower so perfectly. The conical roof is (or was)finished with one large stone shaped like a bell; four windows near thetop opposite the cardinal points. There is a belt of ribbed stone roundthe top below the roof, with four faces carved on it over the fourwindows. Advocates of the theory that the round towers were built forChristian purposes have decided that there are three masculine, and onefeminine face, being the faces of St. Molaisse, the founder of theabbey; St. Patrick, St. Colombkill and St. Bridget. 

Near the round tower is the ruins of what was once a beautiful church. The stone work which remains is wonderfully fine. The remaining window, framed of hewn stone wrought into a rich, deep moulding, seems never tohave been intended for glass. It is but a narrow slit on the outside, though wide in the inside. There are the remains of two cloisteredcells, one above another, very small, roofed and floored with stone, belonging to a building adjoining the church. Climbed up the littletriangular steps of stone that led into the belfry tower, and lookedforth from the tower windows over woodland hill, green carpet and bluewaters, with a blessing in my heart for the fair land, and an earnestwish for the good of its people. 

There is in the old churchyard one of the fair, skilfully carved, ancient crosses to be found in Ireland. It was shattered and cast down, but has been restored through the care of the Government. It is veryhigh and massive, yet light-looking, it is so well proportioned. Thereare pictures of scriptural subjects, Adam and Eve, David and Goliath, &c. , carved in relief over it. Two I saw at Ennishowen had noinscription or carving at all. 

The Government has built a wall around these fine ruins for theirprotection from wanton destruction. It takes proof of the kind affordedby these ruins to convince this unbelieving generation that the ancientIrish were skilled carvers on stone, and architects of no mean order. Ihave looked into some of what has been said as to the uses for which theround towers were built with the result of confusing my mind hopelessly, and convincing myself that I do not know any more than when I began, which was nothing. I am glad, however, that I saw the outside of thisround tower. I saw not the inside, as the door is nine feet from theground and ladders are not handy to carry about with one. 

XXII. 

THE EARL OF ENNISKILLEN AND HIS TENANTS--CAUSES OF DISSATISFACTION--SPREAD OF THE LAND LEAGUE AMONGST ENNISKILLEN ORANGEMEN--A SAMPLEGRIEVANCE--THE AGENTS' COMMISSION--A LINK THAT NEEDS STRENGTHENING--THELANDLORD'S SIDE. 

It seems a great pity that the attachment between the Earl ofEnniskillen and his tenants should suffer interruption or be in dangerof passing away. The Earl, now an old man, was much loved by his people, until, in a day evil alike for him and for his tenants, he got a newagent from the County Sligo. Of course, I am telling the tale as it wastold to me. Since this agent came on the property, re-valuation, rentraising, vexatious office rules, have been the order of things on theestate. The result of this new state of things, has been that the LandLeague has spread among the tenants like wildfire. I did not feelinclined to take these statements without a grain of salt. To hear ofthe Land League spreading among Enniskillen Orangemen, among the Earl'stenants, of dissatisfaction creeping in between these peoplehistorically loyal and attached to a family who had been their chiefsand landlords for centuries, was surprising to me. 

To convince me that such was the case, I was requested to listen to oneof the Earl's tenants reciting the story of his grievances at the handsof the Earl's agent. It was a sample case, I was told, and would explainwhy the people joined the Land League. It was pleasant enough to have anopportunity of going into the country and to have an opportunity ofseeing the farms and the style of living of the Fermanagh farmers, ascompared with the Donegal highlands. 

The country out of Enniskillen is very pretty. May has now opened, thehedges have leafed out and the trees are beginning lazily to unfoldtheir leaves. The roads are not near so good as the roads in Donegal, which are a legacy from the dreary famine time, being made then. Thehedges are not by any means so trim and well kept as the hedges by thewayside in Down or Antrim. The roads up to the farm houses are lanes, such as I remember when I was a child. The nuisances of dunghills nearthe doors of the farmhouses have been utterly abolished for sanitaryreasons, also whitewashing is an obligation imposed by the Government. For these improvements I have heard the authorities both praised andthanked. In these times of discontent, it is well to see the Governmentthanked for anything. The country is hilly and the hills have a uniformround topped appearance, marked off into fields that run up to the hilltops and over them and down the other side. There are, of course, mountains in the distance, wrapped in a thick veil of blue haze. 

The house to which I was bound was, like most of the farm houses, long, narrow, whitewashed, a room at each end and the kitchen in the middle. Iwill now let the farmer tell his grievances in his own words. He isabout sixty years of age, a professor of religion of the Methodistpersuasion, an Orangeman, and a hereditary tenant of Lord Enniskillen, and now an enthusiastic adherent of the Land League. "In 1844 I boughtthis farm--two years before I was married. There is 17-1/2 acres. I paidL184 as tenant right--that is, for the goodwill of it. The rent was L197s 4d. I should have gone to America then; it would have been better forme. I have often rued that I did not go, but, you see, I was attached tothe place. My forbears kindled the first fire that ever was kindled onthe land I live on. I held my farm on a lease for three lives; two weregone when I bought it. I have been a hard-working man, and a sober man. There is not a man in the country has been a greater slave to work thanI have been. I drained this place (fetches down a map of the littleholding to show the drains). It is seamed with drains; 11 acres out of17-1/2 acres are drained, the drains twenty-one feet apart and threefeet deep. Drew stone for the drains two miles, L100 would not at allpay me for the drainage I have done. I built a parlor end to my house, and a kitchen; also, a dairy, barn, byre, stable and pig house. Everyyear I have bought and drawn in from Enniskillen from sixty to onehundred loads of manure for my farm; this calculation is inside of theamount. I have toiled here year after year, and raised a family incredit and decency. When the last life in my lease died, my rent wasimmediately raised to L27 10s. I paid this for a few years, and then theseasons were bad, and I fell behind. It was not a fair rent, that wasthe reason I was unable to pay it. I complained of the rent. I wanted itfixed by arbitration; that was refused. I asked for arbitration todecide what compensation I had a right to, and I would leave; that wasrefused too. I was served with a writ of ejectment. The rent was lowereda pound at two different times, but the law expenses connected with thewrit came to more than the reduction given. I had the privilege, alongwith others, of cutting turf on a bog attached to the place at the timeI held the lease; that was taken from us. We had then to pay a specialrate for cutting turf, called turbary, in addition to our rent. So thatreally I am struggling under a higher rent than before, while I have thename of having my rent lowered: I once was able to lay by a little moneyduring the good times; that is all gone now. I am getting up in years. If I am evicted for a rent I cannot pay, I cannot sell my tenant right;I will be set on the world at my age without anything. I joined the LandLeague. At the time of an election it was cast up to Lord Enniskillenabout taking from us the bog. It was promised to us that we should haveit back, in these words: 'If there is a turf there you will get it. 'After the election we petitioned for the bog, and were refused. We weretold our petition had a lie on the face of it. It is the present agent, Mr. Smith, that has done all this. He is the cause of all the ill-feeling between the Earl of Enniskillen and his tenants. He has raisedthe rents L3, 000 on the estate, I am told. He gets one shilling in thepound off the rent; that is the way in which he is paid; so it is littlewonder that he raises the rents; it is his interest to do so. "

I listened to this man tell his story with many strong expressions offeeling, many a hand clench, and saw he was moved to tears; saw thehereditary Enniskillen blood rise, the heart that once throbbedresponsive to the loyalty felt for the Enniskillen family now surging upagainst them passionately. I thought sadly that the loss was more thanthe gain. Gain L3, 000--loss, the hearts that would have bucklered theEarl of Enniskillen, and followed him, as their fathers followed hisfathers, to danger and to death. I decided in my own mind that Mr. Smith's agency had been a dear bargain to the Enniskillen family. "Thebeginning of strife is like the letting out of water; therefore, leaveoff contention before it be meddled with. "

After I had listened to the farmer's wrongs and heard of others who alsohad a complaint to make, I was obliged to think that their case was notyet so hard as the case of those who suffered from the_eccentricities_ of Lord Leitrim. Still, it is a hard case when weconsider that the man's whole life and so much money also sunk in rent, purchase, improvements, and when unable to pay a rent raised beyond thepossibility of paying, to lose all and begin life again without money oryouth and hope, at sixty years of age. People with exasperated minds aredriven to join the Land League, in hope that union will be strength, andthat ears deaf to petition of right will grant concessions to agitation. 

I began to feel afraid that I was hearing too much on one side and toolittle on the other, and I requested to be introduced to some who hadranged themselves on the side of the landlords. I was, as a consequence, introduced to several gentlemen at different times, but I got no lighton the subject from any of them. They were so very sure that everythingwas just as it should be, and nothing short of treason would induce anyone to find fault. Still when the question was asked squarely, "Arethere no reasons for wishing for reform of the land laws?" the answerwas, "We would not go quite so far as that?" There was a vagueacknowledgment that, generally speaking, some reform was needed, and yetevery particular thing was defended as all right on the whole, or notvery far wrong. 

XXIII. 

A MODEL LANDLORD--ERIN'S SONS IN OTHER LANDS. 

I have, at last, heard of a model landlord; not that I have not heardof good landlords before, as Mr. Humphreys and Mr. Stewart, of Ards, inDonegal. I have seen also the effects of good landlordism. When passingthrough the Galgorm estate I saw the beneficial changes wrought on thatplace by Mr. Young; but I have heard of many hard landlords, seen muchmisery as the result of the present land tenure, and I did feel glad tohear men praising a landlord without measure. It was a pleasant change. This landlord who has won such golden opinions is Lord Belmore, ofCastle Coole. "The Land League has gained no adherents on his estate, "says one to me, "because he is such a just man. He is a man who willdecide for what he thinks right though he should decide to his own hurt. Eviction has never occurred on his place; there is no rack rent, novexatious office rules. "

As I have listened to story after story of tyranny on the Leitrimestate, so here I listened to story after story of the strict justiceand mercy of Lord Belmore. His residence of Castle Coole is outside ofEnniskillen a little, and is counted very beautiful. Of course I went toget a peep at it, because he is a lord whom all men praise. "Histenants, " said one, "not only do not blame him but they glory in him. Why should they join the Land League? They get all it promises withoutdoing so. " As we drove along I heard his justice, his sense of right, his praise, in short, repeated in every way possible. I have noticedabout this lord that to mention his name to any one who knows him isquite enough to set them off in praise of him. As he is not an immenselywealthy peer, but has been obliged to part with some of his property, itis the more glorious the enthusiastic good name he has won for himself. 

We drove across a long stretch of gravel drive through scenery likefairyland. A fair sheet of water lay below the house, bordered by treesthat seemed conscious of their owner's renown by the way they tossedtheir heads upward and spread their branches downward, as saying, "Lookat us: everything here bears examination and demands admiration. " Swansruffled their snowy plumage and sailed with stately bendings of theirwhite necks across the lake. Wild geese with the lameness of perfectconfidence grouped themselves on the shore or played in the water. Cootsswam about in their peculiar bobbing way, as if they were up to fun insome sly manner of their own. Across the lake were sloping hills risinggently from the water arrayed in the brightest of green. Grand statelytrees stood with the regal repose of a grand dame, every fold of theirleafy dress arranged with the skilful touch of that superb artist, DameNature. 

My driver, with a becoming awe upon him of the magnificent grounds, thestately house and the high-souled lord, drove along the mostunfrequented paths, and we came, in the rear of the great house, to aquaint little saw-mill in a hollow, a toy affair that did not meanbusiness, but such as a great lord might have as a proper appanage towide land and as a convenience to retainers. 

After some whispered consultation with the man in charge, it wascertified that we might drive round, quite round the castle, and, favored by fortune, might chance to see the housekeeper and getpermission to see the inside of the house. I knew the house was verynice by intuition; it was very extensive, and I was sure held anyquantity of pleasant and magnificent rooms; but someway I did not desireto go through it. I should have liked to have seen its lord, this modernAristides, whom I was not tired of hearing called the just. The lordwith the cold stately manner, but the heart that decided matters, likeHugh Miller's uncle Sandy, giving the poor man the "cast of the bauk, "even to his own hurt. 

We drove down the broad walk just out of sight of the extensive gardensand conservatories, between trees of every style of magnificence down tothe lodge gate which was opened to us promptly and graciously. You canalways judge of a lord by the courtesy or the want of it in hisretainers. Indeed I believe that even dogs and horses are influenced bythose that own them, and become like them in a measure. I waft thee myheart's homage, lord of Castle Coole! Thy good name, thy place in thehearts of thy countrymen, could not be bought for three thousand poundssterling wrung "by ways that are dark, " from an exasperated tenantry. The drive back to Enniskillen with another suggestive peep at the lakewas delicious and enjoyable. 

In Enniskillen I wandered into the Catholic church, the only church Icould wander into without a fuss about getting the key. It is grand, andseverely plain in the absence of pictures and ornaments. 

I am told there was a good deal of distress in the County Fermanagh, andthat they obtained relief from the Mansion House Fund and from theJohnston Committee Fund. This Johnston was a Fermanagh man, and hasrisen to wealth in the new world under the Stars and Stripes. The sonsand daughters of Ireland do not forget, in their prosperity on far-offshores, the land of their birth and of their childhood's dreams. 

 Like the daisies on the sod, With their faces turned to God, Their hearts' roots are in the island green that nursed them on her lap. 

Suffering from want in those hard times must have been comparativelyslight in Enniskillen, as the local charity was strong enough to relieveit, I was informed by an Episcopal clergyman. 

XXIV. 

SELLING CATTLE FOR RENT--THE SHADOW OF MR. SMITH--GENERATIONS OFWAITING--UNDER THE WING OF THE CLERGY--A SAFE MEDIUM COURSE--THECONSTABULARY--EXERTIONS OF THE PRIESTS--A TERMAGANT. 

Hearing that there was a great disturbance apprehended at ManorHamilton, in the County Leitrim, and that the military were ordered out, I determined to go there. I wanted to see for myself. I put on my bestbib and tucker, knowing how important these things are in the eyes ofimaginative people. Arrived at the station in the dewy morning, andfound the lads whom I had seen carrying their dinners at the Redoubtdrawn up on the platform under arms. How, boyish, slight and under-sizedthey did look, but clean, smart and bright looking, of course. Appliedat the wicket for my ticket, as the 'bus man was eager to get paid andsee me safely off. The ticket man told me curtly I was in no hurry, andshut the wicket in my face. The idea prevails here, except in the casesof the local gentry who are privileged, and to whom the obsequiousnessis remarkable, that the general public, besides paying for theiraccommodation, ought to accept their tickets as a favor done them by theCompany. This stately official at last consented to issue tickets; as Ihad not change enough to pay I gave him a sovereign, and, not havingtime to count the change, I stuffed it into my portmonnaie and made arush for the cars as they snorted on the start. 

In spite of my determination, made amid the smoke and filth of thethird-class cars between Omagh and Strabane, I took a third-class car, and to my agreeable surprise it was clean, and I had it to myself. Westeamed out of Enniskillen, all the workers in the fields and the peoplein the houses dropping their work to stare at the cars, crowded withsoldiers, that were passing. I had a letter of introduction to aninhabitant of Manor Hamilton, as a precaution. We passed one of theentrances to Florence Court, the residence of the once-loved Earl ofEnniskillen. When I understood that this nobleman was up in years, hismagnificent figure beginning to show the burden of age, and that he wasblind, I felt a respectful sympathy for him, and wished that the shadowof Mr. Smith and his three thousand of increase of rent had never fallenacross his path. After passing the road to Florence Court, when thetrain was not plunging through a deep cut, I noticed that the land didnot, all over, look so green or so fertile as in the farther down North. There was much land tufted with rushes, much that had the peculiar shadeof greenish brown familiar to Canadian eyes. There were many rooflesscottages standing here and there in the wide clearings. There were bleakbogs of the light colored kind that produce a very worthless turf, thatmakes poor fuel. 

At one of the way stations, a decent-looking woman came into thecompartment where I sat. Divining at once that I had crossed the water, she spoke pretty freely. Their farm was on a mountain side. It had to bedug with a spade; horses could not plough it. The seasons had beenagainst the crops for some years. Yes, their rent had been raised, raised at different times until it was now three times was it was tenyears ago. She was going to the office to try to get some favor aboutthe rent. They could not pay it and live at all, and that was God'struth. Had no hope of succeeding. Did not believe a better state ofthings would come without the shedding of blood. "Oh, yes, it is truefor you, they have no arms and no drill, but they look to America to dofor them what they cannot do for themselves. Oh, of course it should bethe last thing tried, but generations of waiting was in it already, andevery hope was disappointed some way. " The laws got harder and the cropsshorter, that was the way of it. 

Arrived at Manor Hamilton, every male creature about congregated withlooks of wonder to watch the military arrive. They were a totallyunexpected arrival, and caused the more sensation in consequence. Therewere none to answer a question until these boyish soldiers had beenparaded, counted, put through some manoeuvres of drill, and then "'boutface and march" off. They seemed so alive, so eager for fun, sodifferent from the stolid-faced veteran soldier that I hoped inwardlythat to-day's exploits would not deepen into anything worse than fun. 

When they tramped off, carrying their young faces and conscious smilesaway from the station, I found a porter to inform me that Manor Hamiltonwas a good bit away. As there was no car I must walk, and a passingpeasant undertook to pilot me to the town. Passed a large Roman Catholicchurch in process of erection. It will be a fine and extensive buildingwhen finished. They were laying courses of fine light gray hewn stonerounded, marking where the basement ended and the building proper began. Such a building, at such a time, is one of the contradictions one seesin this country. 

Stopped at a hotel and was waited on by the person to whom my letter ofintroduction was directed, who introduced me to some other persons, including some priests. It was ostensibly an introduction, really aninspection. Only for this introduction I should not have got admittanceinto the hotel. People were arriving from every quarter. I stood at anupper window watching the people arrive in town. The first band, preceded by a solemn and solitary horseman, consisted of a big drumbeaten by no unwilling hand, and some fifes. They played, "Tramp, Tramp, the Boys are Marching, " with great vim. The next detachment had a bannercarried by two men, the corners steadied by cords held by two more. Itwas got up fancy, in green and gold, a picture of Mr. Parnell on oneside, and some mottoes on the other. "Live and let live, " was one. Theband of this company, some half-dozen fifers, were dressed in jackets ofgreen damask rimmed with yellow braid, and had caps made of green andyellow, or green and white, of the same shape as those worn by thepolice. The operator on the big drum had a white jacket and green cap. He held his head so high, his back was so straight, his cap set soknowingly on one side, he rattled away with such abandon, and looked asif he calculated that he was a free and independent citizen, that Iguessed he had learned those airs and that bearing in classic New York. The next detachment had a brass band and some green favors and a greenscarf among them. 

One of the clergy to whom I was introduced, volunteered to show me to aposition from which I would safely see the whole performance, which wasthe auction of cattle for rent--I was quite glad to have the kindoffices of this gentleman, as without them I would have seen very littleindeed. As I passed down the street under the wing of the clergy, I wasamused at the innocent manner in which a half-dozen or so would getbetween his reverence and me, blocking the way, until they understood Iwas in his care, when a lane opened before us most miraculously, andclosed behind us as the human waves surged on. 

The police officers and men were patient and polite to high perfection. We made our way to the Court House, where the soldiers were drawn upinside, crowding the entrance hall and standing on the stairs. It wasthought the sale would be in the Court House yard, in which case theofficial offered me a seat on the gallery. As the building was low, thelong windows serving for both stories, it would be only a good positionif the cattle were auctioned in the Court yard. This had been donebefore, and would be prevented if possible this time, as it was tooprivate a proceeding. Meanwhile I sat in the official room, the kitchenin short, and waited looking at the peat fire in the little grate, theflitches of bacon hanging above the chimney, the canary that twitteredin a subdued manner in its cage, as if it felt instinctively theexpectant hush that was in the air. 

It was decided to hold the sale on the bridge, so I was piloted throughthe military, through a living lane of police, through the surgingcrowd, to a house that was supposed to command the situation, and founda position at an upper window by the great kindness of the clergyman whohad taken me in charge. 

It is something awful to see a vast mass of human beings, packed asclosely as there is standing room, swayed by some keen emotion, like thewind among the pines. It is wonderful, too, to see the effects ofperfect discipline. The constabulary, a particularly fine body of men, with faces as stolid as if they were so many statues, bent on doingtheir duty faithfully and kindly. They formed a living wall across theroad on each side of an open space on the bridge, backs to the space, faces to the crowd, vigilant, patient, unheeding of any uncomplimentaryremarks. 

The cause of all this excitement was the seizure of cattle which were tobe sold for rent due to Cecil White, Esq. , by his tenants, at the manorof Newtown. 

The crowd here was far greater than at Omagh the day of the Land Leaguemeeting. The first roll of the drum had summoned people from near andfar in the early morning. I am not a good judge of the number in acrowd, but I should say there were some thousands, a totally unarmedcrowd; very few had even a stick. There were few young men in the crowd--elderly men and striplings, elderly women and young girls, and a goodmany children, and, of course the irrepressible small boy who did theheavy part of the hissing and hooting. These young lads roosted on theCourt House wall, on the range wall of the bridge so thickly that thewonder was how they could keep their position. The crowd heaved andswayed at the other end of the bridge, a tossing tide of heads. Theexcitement was there. 

I could not see what was going on, but a person deputed by the clergymanbefore mentioned, came to bring me to a better station for seeing whatwas going on at the other end of the bridge. The crowd made way, thepolice passed us through, and we got a station at a window overlookingthe scene. Out of the pound, through the swaying mass of people, wasbrought a very frightened animal. If she had had no horns to grip herby, if she had had the least bit of vantage ground to gather herself upfor a jump, she would have taken a flying leap over the heads of someand left debtor and creditor, and all the sympathizers on both sidesbehind her, and fled to the pasture. She was held there and bid for inthe most ridiculous way. All that were brought up this way were boughtin and the rent was paid, and there the sale ended

There might have been serious rioting but for the exertions of theCatholic clergy. Members of the Emergency Committee were particularlyliable to a hustling at least. The least accidental irritation owing tothe temper of the crowd would have made them face the bayonets withtheir bare breasts. The police were patient, the clergy determined onkeeping the excitement down, and all passed off quietly enough. Therewere a few uncomplimentary remarks, such as addressing the police as"thim bucks" which remark might as well have been addressed to the courthouse for any effect it had. There were a few hard expressions slung atMr. White which informed all who heard them that Mr. White was cashieredfrom the army for flogging a man to death, that he had well earned hisname of Jack the flogger, &c. 

The crowd dispersed from the bridge. The youthful military passed on themarch for the train to return to their barracks, the crowd, now good-natured, giving them a few jokes of a pleasant kind as they passed; thesoldiers looking straight ahead in the most soldierly manner they couldassume, but smiling all the same, poor boys, for surely compliments arebetter than hisses and hoots. 

I never heard a sound so dreadful as the universal groan or hoot of thisgreat crowd. There was some speaking, a good deal of speaking, from thewindow of the hotel, praising the crowd for their self-control, andadvising them to go home quietly for the honor of the country and thegood cause. 

After the sale, the three bands and the great crowd, paraded thestreets. The cattle were brought round in the procession, their headssnooded up for the occasion with green ribbon. I do not think the cattleliked it a bit; they had had a full share of excitement in the firstpart of the day. 

The most active partisan of the Land League was an elderly girl. She wasthe inventor and issuer of the most aggravating epithets that were putinto circulation during the whole proceedings. Her hair was dark andgray (dhu glas), every hair curling by itself in the most defiantmanner. The heat of her patriotism had worn off some of the hair, forshe was getting a little bald through her curls--such an assertiveupturned little nose, such a firm mouth, such a determined protrudingchin. This patriot had a short jacket of blue cloth, and could step aslight and give a jump as if she had feathered heels. She reminded me ofcertain citizenesses in Dickens' "Tale of Two Cities. " May God of Hisgreat mercy give wisdom and firmness to the rulers of this land. 

XXV. 

THE LABORING CLASSES IN MANOR HAMILTON--THEIR HOMES--LOOKING FOR HERSHARE--CHARGES AGAINST AN UNPOPULAR LANDLORD. 

I called upon a clergyman in Manor Hamilton in pursuit of informationas to the condition of the laboring class. Manor Hamilton is a smallinland town, depending solely on agriculture. Want of work is thecomplaint. Out of work is the chronic state of things among the laboringpopulation. A few laborers are employed on the Catholic church inprocess of erection. The railway is newly finished between Enniskillenand Manor Hamilton. While it was being made it supplied work to a greatmany. Rail communication with the rest of the country must be a benefitto the town and the surrounding country. 

The hopes nourished by the Land League prevent the people from sinkinginto despair or rousing to desperation. "Have the laboring class anygarden ground to their homes?" I asked. "No. You would not like to seetheir homes. They are not fit for anyone to go into, " was the answer. Itis good sometimes to look at what others are obliged to endure. 

Having provided myself with infinitesimal parcels of tea and sugar forthe very aged or the helplessly sick, I set out with the clergyman andwent up unexpected lanes and twisted round unlikely corners, dived intolow tenements and climbed up unreliable stairs into high ones. One home, without a window, no floor but the ground, not a chair or table, darkwith smoke, and so small that we, standing on the floor, took up all theavailable room, paid a rent of $16 per year, paid weekly. The husbandwas out of work, the wife kept a stall on market days, and sold sweetsand cakes on commission. 

Another hovel, divided into two apartments like stalls in a horsestable, a ladder leading up to a loft where an old gate and someindescribably filthy boards separated it into another two apartments, accommodated four families. The rent of the whole was $52 per year, paidweekly. One of the inmates of this tenement, an old, old man, whoseclothing was shreds and patches, excused himself from going into theworkhouse by declaring that there were bad car-ack-ters in there, whilehe and his father before him were ever particular about their company. 

Children, like the field daisy, abound everywhere. In one hovel a brandnew baby lay in a box, and another scarcely able to walk toddled about, and a lot more, like a flock of chickens, were scattered here and there. In one of these homes a small child was making a vigorous attempt tosweep the floor. On asking for her mother, the little mite said, "She isaway looking for her share. " This is the popular way of putting a nameon begging. 

One inhabitant made heather brooms, or besoms, as they are called here. He goes to the mountain, cuts heather, draws it home on his back, makesthe besoms, and sells them for a halfpenny apiece. 

In one hovel a little boy lay dying of consumption--another name forcold and hunger--his bed a few rags, a bit of sacking and a tatteredcoat the only bed-clothes. "I am very bad entirely, father, " was thelittle fellow's complaint. I stood back while the father talked to him, and it was easy to see that he had well practised how to be a son ofconsolation. It was a cold windy day, and the wind blew in freelythrough the broken door. Surely, I thought, the workhouse would becomparative comfort to this child; but it seems that the whole familymust go in if he went. The saddest consideration of all is the want ofwork--excitement like what is in the country now must be bad for idleand hungry men. 

Mr. Corscadden and Mr. Tottenham, the contractor for the railway, arethe two landlords who are most unpopular. Mr. White, one of those whohad the cattle seized for rent, is also unpopular, very. Mr. Corscaddenis a new landlord, comparatively speaking; was an agent before he becamea proprietor. He is at open war with his tenantry. He requires an escortof police. His son has been shot at and missed by a narrow enough shave, one ball going through his hat, another grazing his forehead. This iscoming quite nigh enough. Some buildings on his property in which haywas stored were burned--by the tenants, thinks Mr. Corscadden; by theLord, say the people. I hope to see Mr. Corscadden personally, so I havemade particular enquiries as to what he has done to deserve the ill-feeling that rages against him. 

The chief charges against Mr. Corscadden are wasting away the people offthe land to make room for cattle and black-faced sheep; taking from thepeople the mountain attached to their farms which they used for pasture, and then doubling the rent on what remained after they had lost part. 

The land out by Glenade (the long glen) is very poor in parts. Theamount of cultivated fields does not seem enough to supply theinhabitants with food. The country has in a large degree gone to grass. There is also a suspicion of grass on the mountain sides which are bareof heather and whins. They say the grass is sweet and good, and thatcattle flourish on it, but the improved quality of stock and milch cowsrequire additional tub feed to keep them in a thriving condition. Thereare some rich-looking fields, but the most of the land has a poverty-stricken look and the large majority of the houses are simplyabominable. 

It is spring weather and spring work is going on. Men are putting outmanure, carrying it in creels on their backs. Asses are the prevailingbeasts of burden, carrying about turf in creels or drawing hay--a bigload to a small ass. Men and women and children are out plantingpotatoes in patches of reclaimed bog. Very few cattle are to be seencompared to the extent of the grazing lands. 

The formation of rock here in the mountain tops has a resemblance to thefortification-looking rocks at McGilligan, but they are neither so loftynor so abrupt. In one place there was a mighty cleft in the rock, as ifsome giant had attempted to cut a slice off the front of the rock andhad not quite succeeded. I was told by my driver that an old man livedin the cleft behind the rock; it was said also that a ghost haunted it. I wonder if the ghost makes poteen. 

Apart from the condition of the country and the poverty of the people adrive through the long glen of Glenade on a pleasant day is delightful. The hills swell into every shape, the houses--if they were only goodhouses--nestle in such romantic nooks, and the eternal mountains risingup to the clouds bound the glen on each side. I saw one house made ofsods, thatched with rushes, that was not much bigger or roomier than acharcoal heap. I would have thought it was something of that kind onlyfor the hole that served for a chimney. 

The people are very civil, and if they only knew what would please you, would say it whether they thought it or not. If they do not know whatside you belong to, no people could be more reticent. 

The Land League is very popular. Since the Land League spread and theagitation forced public attention to the extreme need of the people manylandlords have reduced their rents. Lord Massey is a popular landlord;anything unpopular done on his estate, Mr. LaTouche, his agent, has laidto his door. 

XXVI. 

TENANTS VOLUNTARILY RAISING THE RENT TO ASSIST THEIR LANDLORDS--BEAUTIFUL IRISH LANDSCAPES--CANADIAN EYES--RENTS IN LEITRIM--THEPOTATO. 

Determined, if possible, to hear something of the landlord's view ofthe land question, I wrote to Mr. Corscadden, the so unpopular landlord, asking for an interview. This gentleman, some time ago, moved theauthorities to erect an iron hut for the police at Cleighragh, among themountains that garrison Glenade. There had been an encounter there, akind of local shindy, between him and his tenants, when they preventedhim from removing hay in August last. The police came in large numbersto erect the hut, but it could not be got to the place, for no one woulddraw it out to Glenade. 

Mr. Corscadden bought this small parcel of land at Glenade from a Mr. Tottenham; not the unpopular Tottenham, but another, much beloved by hispeople. He lived above his income, and was embarrassed in consequence. His tenants voluntarily raised the rents on themselves for fear he wouldbe obliged to sell the land, and they might pass into the hands of a badlandlord. They raised the rent twice on themselves, and after all he wasobliged to sell, and the fate they dreaded came upon them; they passedinto Mr. Corscadden's hands. 

During the famine this part of Leitrim got relief from the Mansion HouseFund. Mr. Corscadden never gave a penny; never answered a letteraddressed to him on the subject. 

Having posted my letter I went out among the people who were, or were tobe, evicted in the country around Kiltyclogher, (church of the stonehouse, or among the stones). We left the bright green fields that beltaround Manor Hamilton and the grand trees that overshade the same greenfields, and drove up among the hills, in a contrary direction fromGlenade. A beautiful day, warm and pleasant, shone upon us; the round-headed sycamores are leafed out, and the larch has shaken out hertassels, the ditch backs are blazing with primroses and the black thornsare white with bloom, and there are millions of daisies in the grass. Wepassed over some good land at the roadside, some green fields in thevalleys, but there is a very great deal of waste and also of barrenland. A great deal of the tilled land is bog, a good deal of the wasteland is shallow earth overlying rocks, some is cumbered with greatboulders, and rough with heather and whins. 

My companion, a lady active in the Ladies' Land League, thought it goodland and worth reclaiming if let at a low rent. I, looking at it withCanadian eyes, would not have taken a gift of it and be bound to reclaimit. If I rented a few acres of those wild hills, and rooted out thewhins and raised and removed the stones, I would think it unjust toraise the rent on me because of my labor. 

It is admitted by all who know anything of the matter, that the tenantshave reclaimed what land is reclaimed. Rent in County Leitrim has beenraised from L24, 990 to L170, 670 within the last eighty years, and isL34, 144 above the Government valuation. 

We called at the house of a tenant farmer who had been evicted for non-payment of rent, and was back as a weekly tenant. He was putting in somecrop, working alone in the field. He came to speak to my companion. Hehad got no word from the landlord as to whether he would put in any cropor not. He was in sore anxiety between his fear of offending thelandlord, and the fear of doing anything against the rules of the LandLeague. His little boys were putting out manure in creels, carrying iton their shoulders. He had no means of paying rent. If he were forgiventhe rent due and a year's rent to come, he might then be in a positionto resume paying rent. This is my own opinion. The poor man himself wassorely perplexed and cast down. A thin, white, helpless-looking man. Theterrors of the eviction had taken hold of his wife, who was sickly. Theonly hope they had was that God would bless the potato crop, for theyhad secured Champion potatoes for seed. 

The potatoes that used to flourish in Ireland forty years ago, haveentirely passed away. Even the Champion potato is not very good. Theskin is thick and has a diseased appearance and the potato has blackspots on the outside. I think the land is suffering from an overdose ofsuch manure as they apply here, and the leaf mould is entirelyexhausted. Of course this is the opinion of one who knows nothing offarming. 

Passed another house, a widow's, who has been evicted. The family hadbeen put out and the official went to get some water to quench the fire;all the little household belongings were scattered about. Putting outthe fire and fastening up the door were the last acts of the eviction. While the official's back was turned, the widow slipped in again, andwas fastened up in the house, the children being outside. Her sons are alittle silly. The children camp outside and she holds the garrisoninside. She thinks the Land Bill or the Land League, or somethingmiraculous will turn up to help her if she keeps possession for a while. Fear that she has done wrong and laid herself open to some greaterpunishment, and excitement have blanched her face. In the dim eveningshe sits at the window inside; the children have a gipsy fire and situnder the window outside. When the gloaming has passed and dark nightsettled down, the police come over from the barracks to see if any ofthe children have gone in beside the mother. This would be takingforcible possession, and some other process of law would be possible. Tomake assurance sure, the policeman puts his head close to the window, sees the widow's white face and wild eyes sitting in the dark alone, andthe children sitting under the window, and then the party, withsomething like tears in their eyes, something very like pity in theirhearts, go back to the barracks. 

I wonder how these things will end. It is not stubbornness, buthelplessness and despair that makes them cling so to their homes, combined with an utter dread of the disgrace and separation involved ingoing to the workhouse. I listened to one tale after another ofharassment, misery and thoughtless oppression in Kiltyclogher till myheart was sick, and I felt one desire--to run away that I might hear nomore. I applied the traditional grain of salt to what I heard, but couldnot manage to add it to what I saw. 

Mr. Tottenham rules part of Kiltyclogher. This man has a very evil nameamong the tenants. Reclamation of land by very poor people is a veryserious matter. Not only do the bogs require drains twenty-one feetapart and three deep (I have seen the people in the act of making suchdrains again and again); not only do the surface stones require to begathered off, but great stones and immense boulders that obstruct theformation of the drains, have to be removed, and as they have no powderfor blasting, they take the primitive method of kindling great firesover the rock and splitting it up that way, so that their husbandry isfarming under difficulties. As the Fermanagh farmer said, they put theirlives into it. 

In the long ago the landlords of Ireland, though extravagant, were not, as a class, unkindly, but their waste involved the land, and theirabsenteeism prevented any thoughts for the benefit of the country everoccurring to them. 

The commercial spirit has invaded the aristocracy and men have begun tosee visions of redeeming their lands from encumbrances and to dreamdreams of still greater aggrandizement, all to be realized by commercialtact in raising the rents and abolishing the long-suffering people whocould not be squeezed any farther. It was then that the beginning of thepresent desperate state of things was inaugurated. I do not think thelandlords deliberately meant to oppress. I think they looked to the onething, raising their rental, increasing their income, and went overeverything, through everything to the desired end. They have succeededin making a wide separation between the land-holding and land-tillingclasses. It will be a difficult matter to bring them together again. 

XXVII. 

A HARD LANDLORD INTERVIEWED--CONFLICTING STATEMENTS--COLD STEEL. 

The morning after our return to Manor Hamilton, Mr. Corscadden calledon me in response to my note asking for an interview. I had formed amental picture of what this gentleman would be like from the descriptionI had heard of his actions. I found him very different. An elderly man, tall, gray-haired, soft-spoken, with a certain hesitation of manner, dressed like a better class-farmer, eyes that looked you square in theface without flinching, and yet had a kindly expression. This was Mr. Corscadden. I need not say he was not the man I expected him to be. 

He, very kindly indeed, entered into an explanation of his management ofthis property since it fell into his hands. He mentioned, by the way, that he was a man of the people; had risen to his present position byindustry and stern thrift; what he had he owed, under the blessing ofGod, to his own exertions and economy. He declared that he ruled hisconduct to his tenants by what he should wish to be done to himself ifin their place. 

He then took up the case of one tenant, James Gilray, who waited on himto enquire, "What are you going to do with me?" This man, according toMr. Corscadden's statement, owed three years' rent, amounting to L30;owed L15 additional money paid into the bank for him; owed L6 for afield, "for which I used to get L11 to L12. " "Now, " said Mr. Corscaddento him, "what do you want?" "I want, " said the man, "to have my place atthe former rent. " "Do you, " said Mr. Corscadden, "want your land at whatit was 118 years ago? Land has raised in value five times since then. "There is here a wide discrepancy between this statement of Mr. Corscadden's and the statement of another gentleman--not a tenant--whoprofessed himself well acquainted with the subject. He said that beforeMr. Corscadden bought the land the tenants had voluntarily increased therent on themselves twice, for fear of passing out of the hands of theman they knew into the hands of a stranger; so that it was under a rackrent when Mr. Corscadden bought it. 

Another case referred to by Mr. Corscadden was that of a man to whom hehad rented a farm of 20 acres at L16. He got one year's rent; two and ahalf years were due, when he served a writ of ejectment. Mr. Corscaddensaid to this man; "You are a bad farmer and you know it. You have aboutL150 worth of stock; I will give you L40; leave my place and go toAmerica. He took the money, " said the old gentleman pathetically, "anddid not go to America, but rented another farm. The woman at Glenadewhom you went to see I have kept--supported--for years. Her husband didnot pay his rent, and I gave him L10 to pay his passage to America. Heis a bad man. It is rumored that he has married another woman; his wifenever hears from him. "

"It is wonderful, Mr. Corscadden, " I remarked, "when you are so kindthat you have such a bad name as a landlord. Mr. Tottenham and you arethe most unpopular landlords in Leitrim. "

"I do not know why; I act as I would wish others to do to me. I do notforget that I have to give an account to the Holy One. "

"You are accused of wasting away the tenants, because cattle and sheepare more profitable than people. "

"I transferred two to places down near the sea and gave them better landthan I took from them. I have been speaking about the others whom I paidto remove. "

"People complain that you took the mountain pasture from the tenants andthen raised the rent of the remainder to double of what they had paidfor all. "

"Not double, nearly double. As to the mountain, I called them togetherand proposed taking the mountain, as they had nothing to put on it; theyhad not a beast. They consented, at least they made no objections. Iwanted the mountains for Scotch sheep. I put on about a hundred; thereare few to be seen now; they have disappeared. "

He then mentioned the shooting at his son, the burning of the officehouses with hay and potatoes stored there, the trouble he had had aboutthe police hut which the constabulary had drawn to Glenade that morning. 

"That will cost the country as much as L500, " said Mr. Corscadden. "Theyare unthrifty in this country, they eat all the large potatoes, plantall the little runts, till they have run out the seed. " (Alas, what willnot hunger do!) "They come into market with their butter in smallquantities, wasting a day and sacrificing the butter. " (Need again: timeis wasted here, for labor is so plentiful and men are so cheap that timehas no value in their eyes. )

I asked Mr. Corscadden what he thought would be a remedy for thisdreadful state of things. He did not see a remedy except emigration. Mr. Corscadden took his leave politely, wishing me a pleasant tour throughmy own country. I have as faithfully as possible recorded Mr. Corscadden's side of the story. The tenant's side I have softenedconsiderably, and omitted some things altogether to be inside of themark. One thing I forgot to mention: Mr. Corscadden said that thetenants might raise a couple of pigs or a heifer and pay the rent andhave all the rest to themselves. 

I said, "When these bad years ending in one of positive famine havestripped the poorer tenants bare, and pigs are so dear, where could apoor man get thirty shillings to buy a sucking pig or buy provender tofeed it?" This is true, the first step is the difficulty. They might dothis, or this, or this, and it would be profitable, but where are themeans to take the first step? It is easy to stand afar off and say, beeconomical, be industrious, and you will prosper. In the meantime pay upthe back rent or get out of this and give place to better men. They tellme that Mr. LaTouche charges the poor creatures interest on all the backrent. Some who have paid their rent here did not--could not--raise it ontheir farms, but got it from friends in America. 

Mr. Corscadden asked me in the course of our conversation what I wouldconsider a fair rent. I said I would consider the rent fair that wasraised on the land for which rent was paid, leaving behind enough tolive on, and something to spare, so that one bad season or two would notreduce the tenant to beggary. 

The fact of the matter is, and I would be false to my own conscience ifI hesitated to say it, these people have been kept drained bare; thehard years reduced them to helpless poverty, and now the only remedy isto get rid of them altogether. The price of these military and police, the price of these special services rendered to unpopular landlords toaid them in grinding down these wretched people, spent to help themwould go far to make prosperity possible to them once more. If they hada rent they could pay and live, the millstone of arrears taken fromabout their necks, I believe they would become both loyal and contented. Empty stomachs, bare clothing, lying hard and cold at night throughpoverty is trying to loyalty. 

The turbary nuisance is the great oppression of all. Want of food isbad, but want of fuel added to it! Forty years ago renting land meantgetting a bit of bog in with the land. When there is a special chargefor the privilege of cutting turf and the times so hard there is muchadditional suffering. 

In the famine time people getting relief had to travel for the ticket, travel to get the meal, and then go to gather whins or heather on thehills to cook it, and the hungry children waiting all the time. Arespectable person said to me the famine was worst on respectablepeople, for looking for the red ticket and carrying it to get meal by itwas like the pains of death. 

Wherever I went through Leitrim I saw people, scattered here and there, gathering twigs for fuel or coming toward home with their burden oftwigs on their backs. I declare I thought often of the Israelitesscattered through the fields of Egypt gathering stubble instead ofstraw. A tenant who objects to anything, who is not properly obedientand respectful, can have the screw turned upon him about the turf aswell as about the rent. 

XXVIII. 

THE MANOR HAMILTON WORKHOUSE--TO THE SOUTH AND WESTWARD--A CHANGE OFSCENERY--LORD PALMERSTON. 

Before leaving Manor Hamilton, I determined to see the poor-house, thelast shelter for the evicted people. I was informed that it wasconducted in a very economical manner. It is on the outskirts of thetown. On my way there I went up a little hill to look at a picturesqueEpiscopalian church perched up there amid the trees, surrounded by apretty, well-kept burying-ground. The church walls were ornamented withmemorial slabs set in the wall commemorating people whose remains werenot buried there. A pretty cottage stood by the gate, at the door ofwhich a decent-looking woman sat sewing. I addressed a few questions toher as to the name of the pastor, the size of his flock, &c. Her answerswere guarded--very. 

I made my way down the hill, and over to the workhouse. The groundsbefore the entrance were not laid out with the taste observable atEnniskillen. Perhaps they had not a professional gardener among theirinmates. At the entrance a person was leaning against the door in aneasy attitude. I enquired if I might be allowed to see through theworkhouse. He answered by asking what my business was. I informed himthat I was correspondent for a Canadian newspaper. He then enquired ifthe paper I wrote for was a Conservative paper. I replied that I wouldnot describe it as a Conservative paper, but as a religious paper. Hethen said the matron was not at home, and I prepared to leave. Ienquired first if he was the master. He replied in the affirmative, andthen said he would get the porter to show me round. "You will show herthrough, " he said, to a stout, heavy person sitting in the entry. 

This gentleman, who brought to my mind the estimable JeremiahFlintwinch, accordingly showed me through the building. We passed theclosed doors of the casual ward, where intending inmates were examinedfor admittance, and casuals were lodged for the night. Every door wasunlocked to admit us and carefully locked behind us, conveying an ideaof very prison-like administration. The able-bodied were at work, Isuppose, for few were visible except women who were nursing children. There was a large number of patients in the infirmary wards. One manwhose bed was on the floor was evidently very near the gate we all mustenter. He never opened his eyes or seemed conscious of the presence of astranger. I noticed a little boy lift the poor head to place it easier. I saw no one whom I could imagine was a nurse. The kindness andtenderness of the beggar nurses in the sick wards of the workhouse atBallymena struck me forcibly. The absence of anything of the kind struckme forcibly in Manor Hamilton. 

The children in this workhouse were pretty numerous. They demandedsomething from me with the air of little footpads. The women were littlebetter. I was told, pretty imperatively, to look in my pockets. Onewoman rushed after me half way up stairs as if she would compel a gift. Coming back with my throat full of feelings, I was directed to a littledesk behind the door, where lay the book for visitors: I was shown theplace where remarks were to be entered. I wrote my name standing, asthere was no other way provided. I was hardly fit to write cool remarks. The locked doors, the nurses conspicuous by their absence, theimportunate beggars, the absent matron, the whole establishment was farbelow anything of the kind I had yet seen in Ireland. One woman had madeher appearance from some unexpected place, and explained to me withfloury hands, that if she were not baking she would herself show methrough the house. 

I think it is hard for struggling poverty to go down so far as to takeshelter in the workhouse. It must be like the bitterness of death. Icannot imagine the feeling of any human beings when the big door clasheson them, the key turns, and they find themselves an inmate of theworkhouse at Manor Hamilton. I do not wonder that the creatures starvingoutside preferred to suffer rather than go in. When I returned to theentrance the master had been joined by some others who were helping himto do nothing. He asked me over his shoulder what I thought of thehouse. I answered that it was a fine building, and walked down theavenue, wishing I was able to speak in a cool manner and to tell himwhat I thought of the house and of his management of the same. 

Left Manor Hamilton on the long car for Sligo. The long car is theunworthy successor of the defunct mail coach of blessed memory. It is anexaggerated jaunting car arranged on the wheels and axles of a lumberwaggon and it is drawn by a span sometimes; in this case, by fourhorses. A female was waving her hands and shouting incoherent blessingsafter us as we started. It might be for me or it might be for the landagent, who sat on the same side. I smiled by way of willingness toaccept it, for it is better to have a blessing slung after one than acurse or a big stone. 

Our road skirted Benbo (the hill of cattle), sacred now to rabbits andhares and any other small game that can shelter on its bald sides. Uphill and down hill, between hills and around hills, mountains of everyshape and degree of bareness and baldness looking down at us over oneanother's shoulders as we drove along. An ambitious little peasant clungon behind with his hands, his little bare feet thudding on the smoothroad and over the loose layer of sharp stones that lay edge upwards inplaces. He thought he was taking a ride. We passed small fields ofreclaimed bog, where ragged men were planting potatoes in narrow ridges. We passed the brown fields where nothing will be planted; passed thesmall donkeys with their big loads; passed green meadows on a smallscale; in places here and there, passed the houses, dark, damp andunwholesome, where these people live. 

After we had rumbled on for some miles, enjoying blinks of coldsunshine, enduring heavy scudding showers, the landscape began to softenconsiderably. The grass grew green instead of olive, and trees clusteredalong the road. Umbrageous sycamores, claiming kindred with our maples, began to stand along the road singly and in clusters. We were still in avalley bounded by mountains, but the hill-sides waved with dark greenand light green foliage, where the fir stretched upward tall plumes andthe larch shook downward tasseled streamers. The green of the fieldsbecame greener and richer, the dark sterile moss-covered mountainsretreated and frowned at us from the distance; we were leaving thehungry hills of north Leitrim for the pleasant valleys that lie smilingaround Sligo. 

The trees grew larger, the sycamores massed together in their fullleafiness, bringing visions of a sugar bush in the time of leaves; theywere mingled with the delicious green of the newly-leaved beech. Theround-headed chestnuts, with their clustered leaves, were covered withtall spikes of blossom like the tapers on an overgrown Christmas tree. The ash and oak are shaking out their leaves tardily; the orchards arewhite with the bridal bloom of May. The fields are flocked with myriadsof happy eyed daisies, the ditch backs glowing with golden blossoms. Myeyes make me wealthy with looking at beauty. 

We are nearing the town, for the woodland wealth is enclosed behind highwalls. Grand houses peep from among the branches; trim lodges, ivy-garnished, sit at the gates, glimpses of gardens are seen, all thewealth of leafage and blossoming that fertility spreads over the landwhen spring breathes is here. In a glow of sunshine after the rain--smiles after tears--we enter Sligo. 

We draw up in the open street, everyone alights from our elevation asthey can. No one takes notice of any other by way of help. Each gets offand goes his several way. The land agent, who has sat in high-bredsilence all the way, pays his fare and goes off on the car that awaitshim. The rest disperse. I pay my fare. The driver asks to be remembered. I mentally wonder what for. I paid a porter to place my bag on the car. I got up as I could, I scramble down as I may. I will pay another porterto take me to a hotel. The driver's whip takes as much notice of me ashe does. Why in the world should I remember him? It is part of a systemof imposition and it would be rank communism to find fault, so Iremember him; he thanks me, and this little game of give and take ends. 

Installed in the Imperial Hotel I send off my one letter ofintroduction, which remains. Discover the post office, find no letters, return and sit down to write across the water. The lady proprietor ofthe Imperial Hotel has been across the Atlantic and has a warm feelingtoward the inhabitants of the great republic; she shares the benefit ofthis feeling with the wandering Canadian and takes us out to see Sligo. 

Gladly do we lay down the pen to look Sligo straight in the face. Sligolooks nice and clean. Belfast is large, prosperous, beautiful; but manyof her fine buildings and public monuments look as if they required tohave their faces washed, but Sligo buildings are fair and clean. We passa rather nice building, suppose it a school, but we are informed it isthe rent-office of the late Lord Palmerston. That astute nobleman showedhis usual good sense, if it was his choice, to own lands in the sunnyvales of Sligo instead of the hungry hills of Leitrim. If some havegreatness thrust upon them, some in the same way inherit lands. Out ofthe town we went, and climbed up a grassy eminence; with some difficultygot upon the "topmost tow'ring height" of an old earthwork--blamed onthe Danes of course; everything unknown is laid on them. The squareshape, the remains of the ditch that surrounds it look too much likemodern modes of fortification not to have a suspiciously British look. Of course we are both delightfully ignorant on the subject. 

The scenery from our elevated position is glorious. At our feet Sligo, all her buildings, churches and convents white in the sunshine, aroundher the fairest of green fields; the blue waters of Lough Gill sparklingand glancing from among trees of every variety that in spring put on amantle of leaves. On every side but the gate of the west through whichwe see a misty glance of the far Atlantic, Sligo has mountains standingsentry around her. One, Knock-na-rea, is seen from a great distance, along mountain with a little mountain on her breast. The bells werechiming musically, the sound floating up to where we stood. Below us, onthe other side of the old earthwork, a little apart from one another, stood two great buildings, that are so necessary here, the poor-houseand the lunatic asylum. These magnificent and extensive buildings musthave cost an immense sum. The asylum has been enlarged recently, as thefreshly-cut stone and white mortar of one wing testified. 

As I looked, a band struck up familiar airs. We saw them standing in afield beside the asylum. I was told that the band was composed ofpatients. This made the music more thrilling. When they struck up "AuldLang Syne, " or "There Is no Luck About the House, " there was a wail init to my ears, after home, happiness and reason. We got down from ourhigh position and came home by another way, passing through some of thepoorer streets of Sligo, which are kept scrupulously clean. Even herewomen and girls were gathering sticks to cook the handful of meal. Thepoor are very poor on the bare hills of Leitrim, or in this green valleyof Sligo. 

XXIX. 

ON LOUGH GILL--TWO MEN--STAMPEDE FROM SLIGO--THE ANCIENT AND THEMODERN. 

I was a little disappointed that I was getting no information on anyside of the question of the day, and my letters which were to be sent toSligo not coming to hand, I was advised to go down the beautiful LoughGill to Drumahaire to see the ruins of Brefni Castle, the place fromwhich the fair wife of the O'Ruarke, Prince of Brefni, fled withMcMurrough, which was the cause of the Saxon first gripping green Erin. I thought I might as well, and set out to walk to the boat landing, agood _billie_ out of Sligo, along the street, past small tenementhouses inhabited by laborers, who do not always obtain work, past thebig gloomy gaol, past the dead wall and the high bank on the top ofwhich goats are browsing, down to the landing beside the closely-lockediron gate, and the little lodge sitting among the trees behind it, belonging to the property of a Captain Wood Martin. Had the felicity, while yet some way off, of seeing the shabby little boat cast off therope and puff herself and paddle herself slowly off down the lake. 

Coming back a very pretty girl electrified me by informing me that I wasfrom America. She advised me to take a small boat and have a sail onLough Gill, for I would always regret it if I did not see its beautywhen I had the opportunity. In her excessive kindness she introduced meto a river maiden, strong and comely, who would row me about with allkindness for a small consideration. Prudently discovered what theconsideration was to be, and then gave in to the arrangement. 

The water nymph had been away gathering sticks; she had to empty herboat and I waited a little impatiently, a little ruefully. The boat wasbig, clumsy and leaky, but the girl was eloquent and eager to persuademe it was a fast and comfortable boat. She produced an ancient cushionfrom somewhere; there was a clumsy getting on board, and she pushed off. We went sailing down among the swans, the coots and the rushes, andpassed little tree-laden islands, hooped with stone wall for fear theymight be washed away. The sun shone pleasantly, the swans floated onmajestically, or solemnly dived for our pleasure, the coots skimmedabout knowing well we had not often enjoyed the pleasure of watchingthem. The grand woods that encompass the residence of Wynne of Hazelwoodspread out over many, many acres, caught the sunlight on one side. Thebroad green meadows of Captain Wood Martin lying among the trees lookedlike visions of Eden on the other. My river maiden discovered to me aswan's nest among the reeds; told me stories of the fierceness ofbrooding swans, and offered to get me a swan's egg for a curiosity, nevertheless. 

Remarking to her that Captain Wood Martin kept his grounds locked upvery carefully; enquired what should happen if we drew ashore and landedon his tabooed domain. The water maiden said one of his men would turnus out. Enquired if he was a good landlord. "Oh, sure he has ne'er atenant at all at all on his whole place; it does be all grazing land. Hetakes cattle to graze. He charges L2 a year for a yearling and L5 a yearfor a four-year-old, and he has cattle of his own on it. " How do youknow the price? "Sure I read it on the handbills posted up. "

Looking at the other side of the glorious lake, at the long thicket oftrees that shades the demesne that Wynne of Hazelwood keeps for his homeand glory, stretching over miles of country; saw the little greyrabbits, more precious than men in my native land, that were hoppingalong, after their manner, quite a little procession of them, at theedge of the bush; and said, "What kind of a landlord does Wynne ofHazelwood make?" "Is it Mr. Wynne, ma'am? Oh, then, sure it's him thatis the good landlord and the good man out and out. He is a good man, avery good man, and no mistake. " "Why, what makes you think him such agood man?" "Because he never does a mane or durty action; he's agentleman entirely. " "Come now, you tell me what he does not do; if youwant me to believe in your Mr. Wynne, tell me some good thing he hasdone. " "I can soon do that, ma'am, " said my water maiden. "Last winterwas a hard winter; the work was scarce, and the poor people would havestarved for want of fire but for Mr. Wynne of Hazelwood. " "He let yougather sticks in his woods, then?" "He did more than that; he cut downtrees on purpose for the people, and we drew them over the ice, for thelough was frozen over. We had no fire in our house all last winter, andit was a cold one, but what we got that way from Mr. Wynne. " Mr. Wynne'seloquent advocate rowed along the lake close in shore, for fear of anydoubt resting on my mind, and showed the stumps of the trees, cut veryclose to the ground, a great many of them indeed, as a proof of Mr. Wynne's thoughtful generosity. 

We rowed along over the laughing waters among the pretty islands, andfinally pulled ashore on the Hazelwood demesne and landed. We walkedround a little bit, filling our eyes with beauty; feloniously abstracteda few wild flowers and a fir cone or two, and reluctantly leftHazelwood. Now this gentleman was not a perceptible whit the poorer forall the cottage homes that were warmed by his bounty--yes, and heartswere warmed, too, through the dreary winter. "Blessed is he thatconsidereth the poor. " There is riches for you--oh master of Hazelwood!

The emigration from Sligo amounts to a stampede now. How many more wouldleave the island that has no place for them, if they only had the means?

I missed that Drumahaire boat no less than three times--that is, shewas either gone before the time when she was said to go, or was lyingquietly at the wharf, having made up her mind not to stir that day. Sheseemed to have no stated time for going or coming, or if she had, tokeep it as secret as an eviction, for no one could be found to speakwith certainty of her movements. When disappointed for the third time, my very kind friend, Mrs. O'Donell, of the Imperial Hotel, took me onher own car to Drumahaire. We drove completely round lovely Lough Gill, seeing it from many points of view. Sligo is not altogether a garden ofEden, for we passed a great deal of poor stony barren land here andthere during this journey. Like all hilly land, there are pretty valesamong the hills and fair, broad fields here and there, but there is muchbarren and almost worthless soil. 

Now, there is one thing that has struck me forcibly since I came toIreland. I saw it in Down, Antrim, Derry, Donegal, wherever I have beenas well as in Sligo. The poorer and more worthless the land, there werethe tenants' houses the thickest. The good land has been monopolized toan immense extent for lands laid out for grandeur and glory--and theyare grand and gloriously beautiful. Then pride and fashion demand thatthe mountain commons be reserved for game, that is, rabbits. A man musthave extensive wilds to shoot over, so the poor laborers are huddledinto houses--awful hutches without gardens, and the poor farmers areclustered on barren soil, trying to force nature to allow them to liveafter paying the rent. 

We got to Drumahaire, stopped at a dandy iron gate beyond which theturrets of Brefni Castle were waving funereal banners of ivy, enteredand found ourselves in a private domain. Here in the shadow of the oldcastle was the handsome modern cottage, extensive and stylish, inhabitedby Mr. Latouche, the agent so much dreaded, so much hated in NorthernLeitrim. This is the gentleman who is accused of charging the tenants10s. 6d. For potatoes which the landlord sent down to be given to thetenants at five. If racking the tenantry is the condition on which hegets this lovely home, it is a temptation certainly. We felt as if wewere in the wrong place, as, after glancing at the handsome cottage, thetrim lawn fringed with shrubbery and then at the ruins we took the lowerwalk hoping to get round under the shelter of some trees to the ruins. Asmall river brawled over the stones below--far below where we werewalking. A detached portion of the ruins sitting on a rock overlookedboth us and the river. Was it in any part of this building that thenaughty lady watched for her lover?

A little further on we looked down some steps into gardens stretchingalong beside the river--gardens blazing with flowers and sweet withblossomed fruit trees. It was so unexpected, so splendidly beautiful, itsurpassed a dream of fairy-land. We passed on, saw a shadowy lady amongthe flowers on the lawn, knew it was the wraith of the unhappy andguilty Dearvorgill. Stole out of the farther gate--at least I did--feeling naughty and intrusive. Found ourselves in the clean little townof Drumahaire, a pretty little village, straggled over a hillside amongthe trees. 

Went into a shop to enquire for the veritable Brefni Castle. A sad andhungry-looking man scenting a possible sixpence started forward asguide. He piloted us back by the way we came into the ruins we hadpassed. Was determined to see visions and dream dreams amid thesehistorical ruins. Alas, it was a disgraceful failure. Not only was theback of the modern tyrannical cottage laid up against the tyrannicalcastle of history, but the ancient and modern were dovetailed into oneanother, trying to bewilder you as to where ancient history and legendended, and modern anecdote began. We looked into the great hall with itsdeep fire-place at the side, and upwards where another stately apartmenthad once been, a lofty presence room over the great hall, but the week'swash of the La Touches was flapping in the wind that moaned through thedeserted halls of the O'Ruarke. Looked into a tower to find a peatstack, climbed over a load of coal to see the withdrawing room of thedeparted, but not forgotten great lady, or the kitchen that cooked forthe men-at-arms, who waited on the lord's behest. Peeped into a turretand was insolently asked what we meant by a splendid but ill-tonguedpeacock; admired the ivy green that happed the bare walls and noticedthat the chickens roosted there in its shelter. 

We drove home by another way, among gay, green woods under the shelterof mighty rocks, passed more ruins. We stopped to examine these olderruins of the ancient O'Ruarkes. A Milesian gentleman showed us throughthem. It is the correct thing to have a ruin on your place; it is a kindof patent of gentility. If a banshee could be thrown in along with aruin, a new man would give a great price for an old place. But bansheesare getting scarce and decline to be caught. This ruin has been patchedover, clumsily but earnestly, so that hardly a speck of the originalruin is left. It was delightful to listen to our Milesian guide. Mycompanion was bound to get some information out of him. He was cautious, not knowing who we were or what design we might have to entangle him inhis talk; he was determined that he would not give the desiredinformation. He conquered. The ruins were not worth sixpence altogetherto look at, but I gave him sixpence as a tribute to genius. And so inthe dim evening we drove back to Sligo. 

XXX. 

SLIGO'S GOOD LANDLORDS--THE POLICE AND THEIR DUTIES--A DOUBTFULCOMPLIMENT--AN AMAZON. 

It has been something wonderful to me that when I left Leitrim, Iseemed to have left all bad landlords behind me. Every one I came incontact with in Sligo, rich or poor, had something to say about a goodlandlord. Some were thoughtfully kind and considerate, of which theygave me numerous instances; others if the kind actions were unknown, positively unkind ones were unknown also, so their portraits came out inneutral tints. I conversed with high Tories and admirers of the LandLeague, but heard only praise of Sligo's lords of the soil. I thought Ishould leave Sligo, believing it an exceptional place, but just before Ileft I heard two persons speak of one bad landlord of Sligo. 

On May 18th I left the green valleys of Sligo behind and took passage onthe long car for Ballina. I found that the long car was to be sharedwith a contingent of police, who were returning to their severalstations after lawfully prowling round the country protecting bailiffsand process-servers in their unpopular work. I cannot believe that thesequiet, repressed conservators of the peace can possibly feel proud oftheir duties. These duties must often--and very often--be repugnant tothe heart of any man who has a heart, and I suppose the majority of themhave hearts behind their trim jackets. I liked to look at these men, they are so trim, clean, self-respectful. They have also a well-fedappearance, which is comfortable to notice after looking at the hungry-looking, tattered people, from whom they protect the bailiffs. 

We passed Balasodare--I did not stop, for I felt that it was better toget this disagreeable journey over at once. 

We stopped at a place called Dromore west, to change horses and tochange cars. We had dropped the police, a few at a time, as we camealong, so that now the car was not by any means crowded. We all stood onthe road while the change of horses was being made. It was slow work, and I went into a shop near to ask for a glass of water. The mistress ofthe shop enquired if I would take milk. I assented, and was served witha brimming tumbler of excellent milk. Payment was refused, and as Iturned to leave, I was favored with a subdued groan from the womenassembled in the shop. Evidently they thought I was some tyrant whorequired the protection of the police. It would not flatter me--notmuch--to be taken for some landholders here. 

When my police fellow-voyagers were dropped at their comfortable whitebarracks here and there, and only one was left, we fell intoconversation to beguile the time. He had been at one time on duty inDonegal and knew how matters were there, from his point of view, betterthan I did. We spoke of Captain Dopping, and his opinion of him was ifanything lower than mine. He expressed great thankfulness that guardingthe Captain had never been his duty. Whether he disliked it from moralcauses, or for fear of intercepting in his own person a stray bulletintended for the gallant captain, he did not say. 

Arrived at Ballina after a long, tiresome journey, yet like everythingelse in this world it had its compensations. Ballina is a kind ofseaport town, in the Rip Van Winkle way. An inlet from Killala Baycalled the Moy runs up to the town. There is no stir on the water, noperceptible merchandise on the quay. One dull steamboat painted black, in mourning for the traffic and bustle of life that ought to be there, slides out on its way to Liverpool and creeps back again cannily. Unlessyou see this steamboat I can testify that you might put up quite a whileat Ballina and never hear its existence mentioned, so it cannot be ofmuch account. The streets are thronged with barefoot women and raggedlads with their threepenny loads of turf. The patient ass, with hisstraw harness and creels, is the prevailing beast of burden everywhere Ihave travelled since I entered Enniskillen with the exception of Sligo. 

Sligo town, like Belfast in a lesser degree, has the appearance ofhaving something to do and of paying the people something who do it. Thetraders who come to Ballina market seem to trade in a small way as atManor Hamilton. Still, the town is handsome and clean, a large part ofthe population, prosperous-looking, in an easy going way, the ladiesfine-looking and well dressed. One wonders what supports all this, forthe business of the town seems of little account. 

Spent a Sunday here and after church became aware that the too, toocelebrated Miss Gardiner, with her friend Miss Pringle, had arrived atthe hotel on their way to Dublin, on evictions bent. The police hadmarched out in the evening to her place to protect her in. I was eagerto see this lady, who enjoys a world-wide fame, so sent her my cardrequesting an interview, which she declined. I caught a glimpse of herin the hall as she passed out with her friend and guard. She is a verystout, loud-voiced lady, not pretty. The bulge made by the pistols shecarries was quite noticeable. "Arrah, why do you want to see either ofthem, " said a maiden to me. "Sure they both of thim drink like dragons"--dragoons she meant, I suppose--"an' swear like troopers, an' fight likecats. " This was a queer bit of news to me. I did not take any notice ofit at that time; but, dear me, it is as common news as the pavingstories on the street. 

Miss Gardiner is almost constantly at law with her tenants, lives in astate of siege, maintains, at the cost of the country, an armed bodyguard, and is doing her very best to embroil the country in her effortsto clear the tenants off her property. At the Ballycastle petty sessionsa woman summoned by this lady for overholding, as they call it, appearedby her son and pleaded that she had been illegally evicted. MissGardiner told them they might do what they liked, but she must get herhouse. Now this house never cost Miss Gardiner a farthing for repairsnor for erection, and it is all the house the wretched creatures have, and, of course, they hold to it as long as they are able. The priestattempted to put in a word for the woman, and was unmercifully snubbedby the bench. In Miss Gardiner's next case, the bench decided that theservice was illegal. Miss Gardiner then called out, "I now demandpossession of you in the presence of the court. " The bench would notaccept this notice as legal. She had a great many cases and gained themall but this one. This particular Sunday when I had the honor of seeingher she was bound for Dublin on eviction business. 

XXXI. 

KILLALA--THE CANADIAN GRANT TO THE FAMINE FUND AND WHAT IT HAS DONE--BALLYSAKEERY--THREE LANDLORDS--A LANDLORD'S INTERESTING STATEMENT. 

I had the very great pleasure of a drive to the ancient town ofKillala, accompanied by the wife of the Rev. Mr. Armstrong, whosuperintends the orphanage and the mission schools in connection withthe Presbyterian Church of Ballina. Killala is an old town with a gentleflavor of decay about it. It has a round tower in good preservation, andan ancient church. I was shown the point where the French landed at thestirring time of war and rebellion. 

It makes my heart glad to hear in so many places of the benefit theCanadian grant has been to this suffering country. I heard with greatpleasure of fishing boats along the coast named Montreal, Toronto andother Canadian names in affectionate remembrance of the Canadian dollarsthat paid for them. This grant has been a means of convincing the peoplethat there is such a place as Canada. The peasant mind had a sort ofbelief that America consisted of two large towns, New York andPhiladelphia. In one instance the Canadian paid nets arrived onThursday; they were in the water on Saturday, and many boats returnedladen with mackerel. So great a capture had not been remembered for manyyears. In one locality where the nets given were valued for less thanL200, it was proved that the boats had brought in during four weeks overL1, 200 worth of mackerel. 

After we had taken a view of Killala we had a pleasant interview withthe good minister at Ballysakeery. Here we received one of thosewelcomes that cheer the travellers' way and leave a warm remembrancebehind. The famine pressed hard upon Mayo. Many respectable people wereobliged to accept relief in the form of necessary food, seed potatoesand seed oats. It is a noticeable fact that here, as in Leitrim--thatpart at least of Leitrim in which I made investigations--the landlordsin a body held back from giving any help to the starving people on theirlands. Sir Roger Palmer gave potatoes to his tenants and sold them mealat the lowest possible figure, thus saving them from having themillstone of Gombeen tied round their neck. Sir Charles Gore, a residentlandlord, has the name of generosity at this time of want, and justiceat all times, which is better to be chosen than great riches. The Earlof Arran, who has drawn a large income, he and his ancestors, from thispart of Mayo for which they paid nothing, not only gave nothing but gaveno reply whatever to letters asking for help. 

The land belonging to the Earl of Arran here--I cannot undertake towrite the name of the locality by the sound--was a common waste and waslet by the Earl at two shillings and sixpence per acre to Presbyteriantenants, who came here from the North I believe. Of course they had toreclaim, fence, drain, cultivate for years. They built dwellings andoffice houses, built their lives into the place. After they had spentthe toil of years on improvement, their rents were raised to seven andsixpence per acre, five shillings at one rise; then it was raised to tenshillings; the next rise was to fifteen shillings and then to twenty. The land is not now able to bear more than fourteen shillings an acrerent and support the people who till it. These people have been paying arack rent for years to this nobleman, the Earl of Arran, yet whenstarvation overtook them, he had neither helping hand nor feeling heartfor them. 

The distress of this last famine was so great in this corner of Mayothat people on holdings of thirty acres were starving--would have diedbut for the relief afforded. It takes some time--and more than one goodharvest--for people who have got to starvation to recover themselvesfar enough to pay arrears of rent. 

We visited the ruins of Moyne Abbey, which are in good preservation yet. One of the present lords of the soil had a part of it made habitable andlived there some time, but it is again unroofed and left to desolation. It has been a very extensive building, stretching over a great extent ofland now cleared of ruins. What remains is still imposing. 

We had a pleasant interview with the Rev. Mr. Nolan, the kind andpatriotic priest of this neighborhood, and we returned to Ballina asgratified and as tired as children after a holiday excursion. 

I was introduced at Ballina to a landlord, a fine, clever-looking man, with that particularly well-kept and well-fed appearance which is ascharacteristic of the upper classes in Ireland as a hunger-bitten, hunted look is characteristic of the poor. I would not like to employ asstrong language in speaking of the wrongs of the tenantry as thisgentleman used to me. He is both landlord and agent. He condemned allthe policy of the Government toward Ireland in no measured terms. Spokeof the emigration that is going on now, as well as the emigration thathad taken place after the last famine, as men going out to be educatedfor and to watch for the time of retribution. Retribution for theaccumulated wrongs which mis-government had heaped upon Ireland helooked upon as inevitable, as coming down the years slowly but surely tothe place of meeting and of paying to the uttermost farthing. Well, now, these are queer sentiments for a landlord to hold and to utter publicly. He acknowledged freely that a great part--a very great part--of theexcessive rents extorted on pain of eviction, the eviction taking placewhen the unfortunate fell behind, were really premiums paid on their ownlabor. Furthermore, he acknowledged that he himself had raised thetenants' rents on the estates for which he was agent, compelling them topay smartly for the work of their own hands. He spoke highly of thepeople as a whole, of their patience, their kindliness to one another, and their piety. He spoke of the case of one man, a peasant, who couldonly speak broken English, who came under his notice by coming to him tosell rye-grass to make up his rent. This man with the imperfect Englishwas a tenant of the gentleman's brother. He held three acres, two roodsof land in one place at a rent of L7 5s, where his house stood; oneacre, at L1 4s. Of course he or his ancestors built the house. His poorrate and county cess is 16s, or $46. 25 yearly for four acres, two roodsof land. If they got it for nothing they could not live on it, say some. The best manure that can be put upon land is to salt it well with rent, say Mr. Tottenham and Mr. Corscadden. Well, this man since the famine, has no stock but one ass and a few hens. He cut and saved his rye-grasshimself, sold it for L3 10s, sold his oats for L3 4s 6d; had nothingmore to sell; had remaining for his wife and two little ones a littlemeal and potatoes. He is a year and a half behind in his rent, andlikely, after all his toil and struggle, to be set on the roadside withthe rest. He has no bog near, there is none nearer than over five miles, except some belonging to Miss Gardiner. Of course that mild and soberspinster that will not oblige her own tenants has nothing in the way offavor for outsiders. It took him twelve days last year to makesufficient turf to keep the hearth warm. He went to the bog in themorning on his breakfast of dry stirabout, with a bit of cold stiraboutin his pocket to keep off the hungry grass, as the peasant callsfamished pains, and walked home to his dry stirabout at night, havingwalked going and coming eleven Irish miles over and above his day'swork. He drew home seventy ass loads of turf at the rate of two loadsper day--twenty-two Irish miles of a walk. Let Christians imagine thisman at his toil in his thin clothing, poor diet and bed of straw withscanty coverlet, toiling early and late to pay an unjust rent. Oftenafter his hard day's work he has gone out at night with the fishers andtoiled all night in hopes of adding something to his scanty stores. Saidthe landlord, "The vilest criminal could not have a harder life thanthis God-fearing uncomplaining peasant. What I tell you I drew from him, for he made no complaint. " "You have a hard life of it, my man, " saidthe landlord to him. He was not his tenant. "Well, sir, sure God is goodand knows best, " was the man's answer. 

I was very much astonished at this gentleman's narrative and his otheradmissions, and I ventured to enquire for my own satisfaction had hemade restitution to the tenants. "Have you, sir, restored what you haverobbed?" I did not suggest the four-fold which is the rule of that Bookwhich we acknowledge as a guide and law-giver. "I am doing so, " hereplied, and he handed me a printed address to the tenants, offeringtwenty-five percent reduction on arrears, if paid within a certain time. Now, I was very much interested in this gentleman and in his opinions, but I could not bring myself to agree with him that this wasrestitution. However, I state the matter and leave it to thatenlightened jury, the readers of the _Witness_, "too large to packat any rate, " and let them give their decision. I think myself that alittle of the Sermon on the Mount, applied conscientiously, would begood for those who hold the happiness of Ireland in their hands. Whenjustice becomes loud-voiced and likely to pass into vengeance, they talkof giving a little as charity. 

XXXII. 

THE STORY OF AN EVICTION. 

On the 20th of May I received a whisper of an eviction that was tooccur up in the neighborhood of the Ox Mountains. Great opposition wasexpected, and therefore a large force of police was to be there. Iprocured a car, and in company with the local editor went to see. Thelandlord of this property is an absentee; the agent--a Mr. Irwin--livedin a pleasant residence which we passed on our way. We noticed that itwas sheepshearing time at his place, and many sheep were in the act oflosing their winter covering. 

After we left Ballina behind, and followed in the wake of the police forsome time, we seemed to have got into the "stony streak. " Such land!Small fields--pocket handkerchiefs of fields--the stones gathered offthem built into perfect ramparts around them! I enquired of onegentleman what was the rent exacted for this land so weighted down withstones--for in addition to the high, broad fences surrounding the littlefields some of them had cairns of stones built up in the middle of them. He said thirty shillings an acre ($7. 50); asked another who said fifteen($3. 75). I fancy one would need to see the office receipts to knowcorrectly. 

There is little cultivation in this part of the country. Hopeless-looking ragged men, and barefoot ragged women, were at work in thefields; little ragged children peeped from the wretched houses at thepolice as they passed. And indeed they were a fine squad of broad-shouldered, good-looking men, heavily-armed, marching along, square andsoldier-like, with a long, swinging step that goes over the groundquickly. 

We followed them up a stone-fenced lane just wide enough for the car topass. As we went along, men working at building a stone wall, looked atthe procession with a cowed frightened look. Our carman gave them the"God save you" in Irish, and in answering they turned on us surely theweariest faces that ever sat on mortal man. The lane becoming narrower, we soon had to leave the car and follow the police on foot through apasture sprinkled with daisies. 

Suddenly we saw the police scatter, sit down on the ditch and lighttheir pipes, throw themselves on the grass, group themselves in two'sand three's here and there. The end of the journey was reached. 

We looked round for the wild men of Mayo from whom the bailiff, sub-sheriff, and agent were to be protected, who were, I was told, to shedrivers of blood that day. They were conspicuous by their absence. Therewere three or four dejected-looking men standing humbly a bit off, threewomen sitting among the bushes up the slope, that was all. The housewhere the eviction was to be held was a miserable hovel, whose roof didnot amount to much, sitting among untilled fields, with a small dungheap before the door. It was shut up, silent and deserted. 

The bailiff, a gentleman who, if ever he is accused of crime, will notfind his face plead for him much, broke open the door and began to throwout the furniture on the heap before the door. Here are the items: Oneiron pot, one rusty tin pail, two delf bowls, --I noticed themparticularly, for they rolled down the dungheap on the side where Istood, --one rheumatic chest, one rickety table, one armful ofdisreputable straw, and one ragged coverlet. This was supposed to be thebed, for I saw no bedstead; there was no chair, no stool, or seat of anykind. The sub-sheriff with the bailiff's assistance fastened the doorwith a padlock. He handed the agent a tuft of grass as giving himpossession, and the eviction was over. 

The agent--a large-featured man--seemed undecided as to whether he wouldview the transaction in a humorous light or as a scene where he waschief sufferer. He came forward and offered some rambling remarksaddressed to nobody in particular. He drew our attention to thecondition of the roof which needed renewing, to the fields that wereuncropped. This was certainly shiftless, but when he mentioned that theman had gone to England "in the scarcity" to look for work, and waslying sick in an English hospital, we did not see how he could help it. He told us how bad the man was; how he pitied his wife, who was, hesaid, worse than himself. She was not present, being from home when herpoor furniture was pitched out. He lamented over the fact that this manhad sent him nothing of his wages, while another man had sent him asmuch as thirty pounds. He then went into details of these evictedtenant's married life; how his wife and he lived, and how they agreed;and rambled off into general philosophic remarks rather disagreeable andnasty. 

No one seemed to pay any attention, although he looked from one toanother for an answering smile of appreciation to his funny attempts tojustify himself and amuse his hearers. Some one asked him how much rentwas due; he said ten or eleven years. Two years were due, as we found bythe law papers on returning to Ballina. He then made an attack on thepoor men standing there, asking why they were not at home working, andtelling them what they should be doing. While he lectured these men in ajoking voice, he turned his eye from one to another of those present asif he were seeking for applause. 

These men, not heeding the agent, were presenting a petition to the sub-sheriff. I drew near to learn what it was. They were thin, listlesslooking witted men. One could not help wondering when they had lasteaten a square meal. Half-starved in look, wretched in clothing, stoodlike criminals awaiting sentence, with dreadfully eager eyes and parchedlips that would not draw together over their teeth, before the plumprosy sub-sheriff. They asked for some meal on credit which the sub-sheriff refused. I asked them if they owed any rent. No, they did notowe a penny of rent, they said. Remember there was only one harvestbetween them and the famine year. They had also put in the crops intheir little holdings, they said, "but as God lives we have neither bitenor sup to keep us till harvest time. " The sub-sheriff asked why theydid not go to a certain dealer. They said the terms were so hard thatthey could never pay him. "How much would keep you till the crops comein, " he asked. Two hundred of Indian meal for each they said. Finally hepromised them one hundred each on credit, even if he had to pay it outof his own pocket. "That is what you will have to do, " said the agent. 

We left and drove home. We saw the police, hot and tired, march past totheir barracks after our return. These men had a long march, loaded downwith arms to protect the bailiff, the stalwart agent, the rosy sub-sheriff from a crowd of five hunger-bitten peaceable men and threeragged women. The whole crowd might have been put to flight by any oneof the three with one hand tied behind him. 

I forgot to mention that the agent offered to one of the women there allthe tenant's poor things that were thrown out, which was an honest andhonorable proceeding on his part, and very generous. 

XXXIII. 

A SEVERE CRITICISM JUSTIFIED--PROCESS SERVING BY THE AID OF THE POLICE--THE WHITE HORSE OF MAYO--PEASANT PROPRIETORSHIP. 

I am glad to see by the papers that the state of the workhouse at ManorHamilton has been censured by the doctors, and deliberated about at ameeting of guardians. It is certainly the worst conducted workhouse Ihave seen as yet in Ireland, and it says with a loud voice, woe to thepoor who enter here. It was told me on this twenty-seventh day of Maythat if I really wanted to see a disturbance a serious collision wasapprehended between the constabulary and the people, at some distancefrom Ballina. I have been led to distrust the accounts of disturbancesthat appear in the papers, or at least to admit them with caution. I wasassured that now at least I should see the wild men of Mayo, for theyhad assaulted the process server and stripped him of his clothing, taking his processes from him, some days before, and they would be outin thousands this day to oppose the serving of the processes. 

Got a car, as travelling companion the local editor, and driven by aknowledgable man, followed in the wake of the police, seventy of them, toward the scene of the disturbance to be. The police had one hour thestart of us. It was a dim day of clouds and watery blinks of sunshine. As we drove along all historical spots were pointed out to me, being astranger, with great politeness. A place on the road where the Frenchhad surged up from Killala and met and fought with the English, waspointed out to me. "Here they were defeated, thim French. "

We passed the place where lived from colthood to glory the celebratedwhite horse of Mayo, the "Girraun Bawn. " This horse, a racer, "bate" allIreland in his day, and was ridden without a saddle or bridle. Mayo wasvery proud of this racing steed, so much so that when horses were seizedand impounded for the county cess, a farmer who had received his mareback again, considering that it would be a disgrace if the king ofhorses were left in the pound, returned to Castle Connor to the pound, left his own horse there and released "Rie Girraun. "

This celebrated horse was stolen it appears. After some time a troop ofdragoons were quartered in Mayo, whose commanding officer rode a horsesuspiciously like "Rie Girraun. " The servant man who had ridden andcared for the white horse of Mayo recognized the horse and drewinconveniently near to the soldiers on parade to make sure whether itwas "Rie Girraun" or not. The officer, annoyed at the man intrudingwhere he was not wanted, asked him what business he had there. He said, "The horse your honor rides was stolen from this place, and I waslooking at him to be sure. He is the famous white horse of Mayo. " He wasasked to prove it, which he undertook to do if the officer would alight, which he did. The peasant, then, hidden behind a stone ditch, called tothe horse in Irish, asking him if he would have a glass of whiskey. Thehorse had been accustomed to get this when he had won a race, and knewthe taste of poteen. He pricked up his ears and galloped round, lookingfor the voice. On the words being repeated two or three times, hevaulted over the stone wall and came to his old friend hidden behind. The officer would not part with the horse, but he paid liberally forhim--so it seems the white horse of Mayo ended his days in the serviceof royalty. 

The grandson of the possessor of the white horse was the other day finedL6 for possessing poteen, and was unable to pay it. 

Listening to these stories we came up with the police, who had alightedfrom their cars and were going through their exercise preliminary to amarch. We made our way through the cars, our driver chaffing a littlewith the drivers of the other cars. Just opposite where the police leftthe cars was the most utterly wretched house that I had yet seen. Alarge family of ragged people gathered at the door, looking to be inanything but fighting trim. We drove slowly, the police marched quickly, until we saw them take to the fields, when we alighted per force andfollowed them. 

A slim, fair-haired woman, with her arms bare and her feet and legs inthe same classic condition under her short dilapidated skirts, began tomake some eloquent remarks. If there had been a thousand or two like herI do think the seventy police would have had hard work to protect thebailiff. One of our company, a gentleman, remarked to her that she had afine arm of her own. "Troth, sir, " said she, "If I was as well fed asyourself it's finer it would be. " We agreed with this gentleman that ifthis woman was fed and clothed like other people she would certainly bea fine-looking person. She drew near to enquire if we were in any wayconnected with the police. Her enquiries were especially directed tomyself. She was told that I was an American lady, and a few faces thatscowled were smoothed into smiles immediately. 

There were by this time four women and half a dozen boys present. No onespoke above their breath but our woman of bare arms. In answer tosomething addressed to her by our party, she said, "Sure they could nottake a better time than seed time to droive us out of our senses. SureGod above has an eye and an ear for it. Look here, " she said, throwingout her handsome bare arm, "look at the bare fields lying waste becausethe seed cannot be got to put in the ground; they're cryin' up to Godagainst it. The cratures here have not enough yellow male to keep thehunger off. If they had waited till harvest there would be a color ofjustice to it. " This woman had all the talking to herself, no one elsehad anything to say. She herself was not among those against whom theprocesses were served. 

We saw the process server leave the ranks of the police and walk down toa wretched little cabin and return in a few moments. The order to marchwas given, and the police tramped along to the next house, a bit off theroad. Two or three little children were in the field, apparently herdingcattle. The least one said to his brother in an accent of terror, "Jimsey, Jimsey, the war is come at last. "

Along the road, tramp, tramp, off the road through the bogs, every housecalled at seeming worse than the last. A rumor had been running alongbefore us--ever before us--of an Amazonian army with pitchforks, tongsand the hooks used for drawing the sea weed ashore, armed and ready, some three hundred strong, waiting for the police. We never came up tothis army or caught a sight of their rags. Crossing a field we were toldof a merciful lady, a Mrs. Major Jones, who gave them seed potatoes andtrusted them with meal when they had nothing to eat. As the policehalted before some houses we heard the muttered exclamations of the fewwomen near, "Eagh! eagh! oh, Lord, and them in need of charity!"

Well, we never came up with the army of women. The processes were notall served, for some of the houses were empty, and there was no one onwhom to serve them; we turned our steps, or our horses rather, homewardto Ballina, the boys calling out in compliment to America, "Three cheersfor the noble lady, " as we drove off. 

The threatened rain came on and came down heavily and we got our shareof it before we got under shelter. An elderly gentleman was introducedto me at Ballina who had had a very great opportunity of noticing theworking of the law and the struggles of the people. He admitted to methat some might possibly have paid some rent before the agitation began, but kept it back hoping for a permanent reduction, and then when theyhad it by them had used it for living, and now had nothing to meet therent with. He said, however, that the most part had not recovered fromthe effects of the scarcity sufficiently to be able to pay up arrears--or, indeed, to pay anything on arrears. 

We conversed a little about peasant proprietorship. He instanced thecase of two persons who had become owners of church land, one of eightacres, another of sixteen. He spoke of the prosperity that had crownedtheir labors ever since hope came to them and they had something tostruggle for. He said they came now decently clad to church and market. He had been in their houses and noticed as much as two flitches of baconhanging in the chimney. One of them owned a team of horses. A man with ateam of horses on his farm is in a different position from a man withonly an ass and creels. Absolutely, said he, the man has devoted aportion of his land to apple trees. 

It was a touching thing to see the earnestness with which this man spokeof these great evidences of prosperity--horses to work the farm, twoflitches of bacon and planting apple trees. In Mayo, in two instances, Ihave seen a corner left untilled in a field. As there was an ass in one, and a goat browsing in the other, I do not know but what it was the bestthing they could do to leave them untilled. 

I may as well mention that the wretched people on whom the processeswere served lived in Sligo, and the landlords who were pursuing them, asit were between the hay and the grass, were Sligo landlords, of thosewhom I heard praised so highly in Sligo town. Round Ballina, as roundSligo, there are few tenants on the land near the town; it has gone tograss and has cows instead of tenants. Sir Charles Gore's demesne andresidence is very fine, and, as he seems to have a blessing with it, long may he enjoy his good things. 

XXXIV. 

THE LAND OF FLAMES--A RELIC WITH A HISTORY--CATTLE VS. MEN--THE MEETINGOF EXTREMES--"PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE. "

Was invited by a friend to visit Rappa Castle to see a celebratedvessel which once belonged to Saint Tighernain, the saint who belongsmore especially to the west and the clock which was removed from MoyneAbbey when it was dismantled. This vessel, belonging to the saint calledMias Tighernain--which I would freely translate as meaning Tighernain'sown--has been used until of late years, when the clergy interposed andforbid it, for the discovery of stolen goods. Any one swearing falselyon the Mias Tighernain was sure to come to grief. People swearingfalsely on the Bible have been known to escape visible consequences. Ourcar driver, a not very old man at all, told us he was present himselfwhen a numerous household were brought together to be sworn on the MiasTighernain for the discovery of a large sum of money which had beenstolen. The thief was discovered but money was not. 

It is very pleasant to drive along through the fair but tenantless landsthat surround Ballina. The county of Mayo is beautifully diversified bymountain and valley, wood and water, glen and stream. The tall hedges ofwhite thorn in their bridal white perfume the air. Myriads of primrosessmile at the passer-by from sunny banks. Small golden blossoms, likewhin blossoms, cluster thickly here and there, and the starry-eyeddaisies, white and sweet with blushes edged, lift their modest faces tothe sky. Even the bog waste is nodding all over with a cotton flower, white as a snowflake; they call it _ceanabhan_ in Irish, and thepeasantry use it as a comparison when praising the white arms and bosomsof the Mayo maidens. Surely one might say this bright May morning withTim, "Glory be to God, but it is a purty world!"

When we crossed the boundaries, passed the lodge gates into the demesnelying around Rappa Castle, the residence of Captain Knox, there was achange to still greater beauty. Money will build a grand and statelyhome in the fair proportions of a castle, but money has to run in theblood for centuries to produce a scene like this. Broad lands swellingand sinking like an emerald sea, trees that stand out singly wrapthemselves in aristocratic leafiness, spreading their magnificent armstoward you, saying, "Look at me! I am not of yesterday; the dews ofheaven, the fatness of the earth, the leisure of centuries, fanned bybreezes, tended by culture, have made me what I am, a 'thing of beauty'to gladden your eyes. " They stand in groups upon the slopes and whisperthis to one another; they open their ranks to give you deliciousglimpses into further away "spots of delight:" they are drawn up inranks shading mysterious walks that lead away into the grand dim woods. They distract you and bother you with their loveliness till you wishthat the English language had a bushel more adjectives. 

Rappa Castle where we arrived with a beggarly feeling of havingexhausted our adjectives is a large comfortable building not very muchlike one's idea of a castle. We drove up to the rear entrance--it isalways prudent to take the lowest room--and waited on the car while amessenger was despatched with our request. Presently the messenger cameback with directions to us to drive round to the hall door. We werereceived by a respectable servant in plain dark clothes, who looked likea minister or a mild edition of a churchwarden. He ushered us from theentrance hall--a comfortably furnished apartment--across a second, intothe crowning glories of a third, where we were requested to wait tillCaptain Knox made his appearance, which was not a long time. 

The owner of Rappa Castle, a landlord against whom nothing in the way ofblame is said, was assuredly of as much interest to us as the relicswhich his house possessed. A tall, fine looking, kindly faced man, rosywith health, courteous and pleasant, came into the room. We told ourerrand and the Captain went for the Mias Tighernain and placed it in ourhands. It is evidently only part of the original dish, the socket wherethe upper part rested being still there. It is very heavy, formed ofthree layers of thin bronze bound at the edge with brass--evidently alater thought, and done for preservation. There are three bands ofsilver across it, which show the remains of rich figuring. There wasoriginally a setting of three stones, one of which still remains andlooks as if it might be amber. It is as large as a soup plate. Somethingis among the layers of metal which rattles when shaken. It is one of theoldest relics in the country. Whoever made it had no mean skill in theart of working metals. According to a certain Father Walsh it was usedto wash the saint's hands in at mass. This dish, after lying at thebottom of Lough Conn for a hundred years, came up to the surface andrevealed itself. It has been used as a revealer of secrets ever since itcame into the hands of the Knox family. We requested afterwards to seethe clock of Moyne Abbey, and were taken by the courteous captain acrossother rooms to the flagged kitchen, where the clock ticked as it hasdone for three hundred years--or since the Abbey was dismantled, howlong before history hath not recorded. The case is of some dark woodbeautifully carved. I thought it was bog oak; Captain Knox saidmahogany, which would make the case to be much younger than the clock. The Captain assured us that it was the best time-keeper in the world. Itonly requires winding once a month; used to show the day of the month, but some meddler disarranged that part of the machinery. The dial plateis of some white metal, brilliant and silvery. Captain Knox said it wasbrass, but I have seen things look more brazen that were not so old. 

Nothing could exceed the courtesy of Captain Knox. He made someenquiries about Canada, and deplored the rush of cattle across, whichwas injurious to the interests of graziers, of whom he was one. It wouldhave been discourteous to express the wish that lay in my mind, thatthey might come in such numbers as to lower the price of cows andgrazing also till the poor man might be able to have a cow oftener andmilk to his "yellow male" stir-about till it might be not quite soimpossible to replace the cow seized for the rent and the County cess. 

I saw a trial in the papers lately of a woman who was in bed, in hershake-down, when she became aware that the cow--the only cow--was takinga lawful departure. Up she got, in the same trim as that in which Nanniedanced in Kirk Alloway, and by the might of her arm rescued the cow. Shewas condemned to jail, but one's sympathies go with the law breakershere often. At least mine do. I did sympathize with this woman of onecow and a large family. Why should any one have power lawfully, to"lift" the only cow from half-starved children. The defence for thiswoman was that through trouble she did not know what she was doing. Itwas a mean, paltry defence; she did know that she wanted to keep hercow, and the law should be altered to enable her to do so. The law thatenables men of means to strip these poor wretches of everything thatstands between them and their little children and starvation, is amonstrous law for Christians to devise and execute, and is worse for therich and for the executive of the law than even for the sufferers. Allthese things flashed through my mind as we conversed with Captain Knox. 

On leaving Rappa Castle we paused a little on the doorsteps to take onemore look at the beauty of the grounds. I wish I had words to convey toothers a little of the delight which the scene gave to me. The trees, branched down almost to the ground, have gotten themselves into so manygraceful attitudes. The bending thick-leaved branches look like greendrapery, the larch flings its tassels down in long pendants flutteringin the breeze, the spruce and balsam--they are a little unlike ours ofthe same name, but I do not know any other names for them--rise inpyramids of dark green tipped with sunny light green, the cedars flingtheir great arms about cloaked with rich foliage, the laburnums shakeout their golden ringlets and tremble under the weight of their beauty, the copper beeches stand proudly on an eminence where every gracefulspray shows against a background of blue sky. There are vistas openingamong the trees giving glimpses of the brightest green and dashes ofwaters like bits of captured sky. 

I gave a glance at the owner, tall and stately, with ruddy, pleasantface and kind blue eye, and acknowledged that he looked every inch anEnglish squire. 

With many thanks for his kindness we took our departure. Were glad tohear from both friend and car driver that nothing of cruelty andoppression could be laid to the charge of this man. As I stood besidehim at his own door, drawing all of the beauty I could into my soulthrough my eyes to carry away with me, I thought if I were born intothat place with its associations, could I, would I mar any corner of itto make a homestead for starving Thady, ragged Biddy, and the toonumerous children? Who knows what transformation might lie in the prideand power of possession!

There was a single laborer working before the castle raking up thegravel walk, I think. "I would he were fatter!" If he were only in asgood condition as the beautiful dogs of superior breed which we saw inthe castle yard; but the dogs are fed at the expense of the proprietorof this fair domain, the thin laborer at his own. We returned by anotherway. After we left the grounds we noticed with sad eyes the miserablecabins and barren fields at his gates. People of the upper, middle andcomfortable classes are so used to horrible cabins, thin laborers, oldwomen, barefoot, toothless, ragged and wretched, begging by the waysideto keep out of the dreaded workhouse, that the sight makes not theslightest impression. People tell me over and over again that theydeserve their poverty, for it is the result of extravagance anddrunkenness. This assertion makes one stare and then consider whosefaces show the greater evidence of the action of different liquors. Itwould be an easy matter in a national gathering to pick out the classand the strata of society that is the support of the liquor traffic inIreland. 

XXXV. 

WORKHOUSES--THE POOR LAW--A REASONABLE SUSPECT. 

Returning from Rappa Castle we must pass the Ballina workhouse. Myfriend had business there. As it was Board day, and I had about an hourto spare, I thought I would look in and see what I thought of it in thelight of a possible refuge for many evicted ones. There were somewretched looking people, applicants for out-door relief, waiting aboutthe entrance when we went in. I have been informed and have seen itconfirmed in newspaper reports of the proceedings of Boards ofGuardians, that it is a rule of universal application by every meanspossible to discourage out-door relief in every form. "Let the poor comeinto the union altogether, " is the spirit that actuates the Boards ofGuardians, so it was pointed out to me that these applicants for out-door relief had small chance of success. 

It was a Board day, and the master of the house, a polite little man, apologized profusely for not accompanying me over the building. Hedeputed the schoolmaster of the establishment to show me through in hisplace. I followed the Ballina Schoolmaster of the Union from theentrance along the gravel walk bordered with flowers to the houseproper, and into the refectory or eating room. One does not want inevery workhouse to look at the same things, when they see they are thesame as in the last. I noticed the set of printed rules hung up on acard and lifting it down sat down to read the rules contained on it. They were very strict, and conceived in such a spirit that a naturallytyrannical man could make a pauper's life a very miserable burden tohim. 

After I read these rules I questioned the schoolmaster, a very niceperson, as to the administration of this workhouse. He casuallymentioned that able-bodied paupers only got two meals in the day. Thiswas such a surprising statement to me that I said, "Your workhouse thenis harder to the poor inmates than the workhouses elsewhere. I have madeenquiry in several places as to the diet given, and they invariably toldme of three meals, mentioning also that they had meat allowed them threetimes per week. "--They have given you "the infirmary diet, " said theschoolmaster, gravely. We conversed a little while on this subject, andas I was to go by train to Castlebar, fearing my time was too short, Idid not penetrate into the workhouse any further. 

Coming out we encountered the doctor, a very courteous person. Hoping toget further information, confirmatory or contradictory of this mostastounding piece of news respecting the food allowance, I referred to itbefore the doctor, who qualified the statement by informing me that ifactually engaged at work for the house they were allowed a third meal. Iwas thoroughly surprised at this. The conviction forced itself upon me, that the poor having taken refuge in the house from actual starvation, the house considered itself justified in keeping them on short commonsever after. 

As I left the building feeling very sad over this information, I couldnot help wishing that these creatures, guilty of the crime of poverty, had the nourishing fare given to the criminals in our common gaol atPembroke on the Ottawa. Now the workhouses are by no means crowded; theBallina workhouse, for instance is empty enough to afford a wing as atemporary barracks for some military. I have been told by what Iconsider good authority, that for every shilling levied of thedistressingly great poor rate eightpence is needed to pay theadministrative officials. While thinking of these things, I take up theCastlebar local paper and notice in the report of the proceedings of theBoard of Guardians, that a doctor not attending to his duty throughbeing "in a state of health not compatible with much exposure to roughweather or country professional work, " was to be allowed for a stillgreater length of time a substitute at three guineas per week. Duringthe debate on this motion a member reminded the Board that last yearthey paid L54 for substitute work for one official on the plea of ill-health; another complained that sums of L50 were voted to officials, while paupers were denied shillings of out-door relief. Still anothercomplained that the auditors would disallow the relief given to caseswhich require relief, while they never disallow sums paid incurred byleave of absence of officials. 

The whole administration of the poor law is complained of prettyuniversally in this style. The poor rate is excessively high, theadministration very expensive, and the economy is practised where it isleast needed, is the complaint I hear again and yet again. 

At the station a great crowd and a rather excited one was assembled. AMr. Moffany had been arrested as a reasonable suspect, and was to betaken to Kilmainham. The man who was arrested was a small, sickly-looking, by no means interesting specimen of humanity, slightly lame. Hewas in some sort of shop-keeping business. The crowd on the platform wasdense and composed mostly of the poorer class, who were enthusiasticenough for anything. The policemen in charge, civilly and politely, withno fuss or force, got their suspect into a second class carriage and gotin beside him. The suspect put his head out of the window and addressedthe crowd, expressing his willingness to suffer for the good cause, andsaid he was not likely to come out of the prison alive owing to hisstate of health. He advised them to be law-abiding and to go homequietly. 

Oh, the cheering there was; the endeavors to get near enough to shakehim by the hand; the surging to and fro of the crowd, the half-cryinghurrahs of the women; the waving of handkerchiefs and caps was somethingto be remembered. As the train moved off slowly the people ran alongsidecheering themselves hoarse, shouting words of encouragement andblessing, of hope and farewell till the train quickened its speed andleft them behind. 

XXXVI. 

DEPARTURE OF EMIGRANTS--TURLOUGH--THE FITZGERALDS--FISH--THE ROYALIRISH WATCHDOGS. 

The day on which I had to return to Sligo from Castlebar an immensecrowd was gathered at the station, and I wondered what was the matter. It was a gathering to see emigrants start for America. The emigrantstook the parting hard. If they had been going to instant execution theycould not have felt worse. Three young girls of the party had crieduntil their faces were swollen out of shape. The crowd outside wept andwailed; some clasped their hands over their heads with an upward look toheaven, some pressed them on their hearts, some rocked and moaned, someprayed aloud--not set prayers, but impromptu utterances wrung out bygrief. The agony was so infectious that before I knew what I was about Iwas crying for sympathy. 

I was not to say sorry for them, for I knew the fine, healthy, stronggirls were likely to have a better chance to help their parents from theother side of the water than here, and the young men might make theirmark in the new world and make something of themselves over there. Stillit was hard to witness the agony of their parting without tears. 

When the carriage moved off, the cry "O Lord!" with which the passengersstarted to their feet and the relatives outside flung up their hands, was the most affecting sound I ever heard. It was a wail as if everyheart-string was torn. A countryman explained to me that the Irish werea people that wept tears out of their hearts till they wept their heartsaway. By the conversation of the emigrants, I found that one girl hadturned back. "She failed on us, my lady, " said her comrade. "Her heartgave up when she saw the mother of her in a dead faint and she turnedback. One has but the one mother and it is hard to kill her with thebitter grief of parting before the time. "

People who have travelled much, and are loosely tied to any spot onearth, ridicule the affection of these mountain people for their cabinamong the hills, but love of home is a glorious instinct, and if thecountry of these people could afford them a little bit of the soil for ahome--liberty to live and toil--they would be both loving and loyal. Allthe poor want is permission to live in a corner of their own country. 

Castlebar is reached by rail. The station is a little out of town. Castlebar is the first town where my few belongings were fought for. Thevictor in the strife was a most determined old man. I thought he had acar, but he had only his sturdy old legs. He shouldered my big bag, little bag and bandbox and trudged off. I ventured to ask him had he nota car. "Sorra a car, miss. After all your sitting in the cars sure itwill do you all the good in life to walk a bit. " They think to flatterelderly women by calling them Miss individually. 

I had an introduction to a member of the Royal Irish Constabulary inCastlebar. He was son to a gentleman who was kind enough to claimkindred with me in Antrim. When I alighted from the cars I noticed asub-constable with quiet face taking note of all arrivals, and saw thathe was good enough looking to be an Antrim man. Found I was right andentered Castlebar protected by a member of the force. Paid thevictorious old heathen who had walked off with my luggage the price of acar, partly for his bravery and partly for his impudence. The approachto Castlebar from the station, about a mile, is bounded on one side byLord Lucan's demesne, shut in behind a high wall, over which the talltrees wave their arms at you. Another domain, Spencer Park, I think, ison the other side, and as it is only shut in by a hedge, one getsdelicious peeps at it as one goes along. 

Went, with my new acquaintance, who got leave and put on plain clothesfor the occasion, to the small Presbyterian Church in Castlebar. Therewere about a dozen present. Presbyterianism does not, as a rule, flourish in Mayo, though there are a good many small congregations andmany mission schools. 

My friend of "the force" got leave of absence for a day and having gotinto plain clothes drove with me to Pontoon Bridge between Lough Connand Lough Cullin. As we passed the poor-house he told me of the awfulcrush that took place round its doors, where the relief was servedduring the scarcity. The press and struggle of the hungry creatures wereso dreadful that no serving could be attempted for some days. I couldnot help pitying the force standing in mud ankle-deep trying to beatback the frantic people, to make serving the relief possible. But, oh!the despair of the people who had to go and come again because the presswas so great. It seemed to a civilian like me that the matter was badlyplanned and by heartless people, or two or even three places would havebeen appointed for the distribution of the relief and not send them homewithout. I often wonder if I am too tender-hearted, too easily moved. The want of feeling toward the very poor strikes me forcibly wherever Iturn. I think that it was not so to such a perceptible degree before thepoor-houses were built. I solemnly think the Poor Law system educatespeople into hardness of heart. 

The road out from Castlebar was very beautiful but thinly populated. Allgone to grass near the town, hardly any cottages at all. Our first visitwas to Turlough where there is a round tower with an iron gate quiteclose to the ground. The other two which I had seen before at Devinishand at Killala had their doors about eleven feet from the ground. Thetop of this round tower was broken and it had been mended by theGovernment. There is a story among the peasantry to the effect that itnever had been finished at all. They say it was the work of thecelebrated _Gobhan saer_, an architect who seems to have had a handin every ancient building almost. The finishing of the rounded top ofthis tower was done by an apprentice who was likely to rival his greatmaster. He, in a sudden fit of jealousy, before it was quite finishedpulled away the scaffolding and the too clever apprentice was killed. 

There is a ruined abbey adjoining the round tower. It is roofless andopen, yet still an iron gate opens from one part to another. Here inthis abbey has been the burying-place of many of the sept of theFitzgeralds, and it was interesting to pass from tablet to tablet andread of the greatness that had returned to dust. The most remarkabledust which moulders here is the celebrated George Robert Fitzgerald, aman who was handsome, well educated, who had spent much of his time atthe French Court. In Ireland he felt himself as absolute as King Louis(le petit grand). In pursuance of a private feud he arrested his enemy, and with a slight color of law murdered him. The act was too glaring, hewas tried and to his great surprise hung. The rope broke twice, and thecountry people believe that the breaking of the rope gave him a right toa pardon. They tell me that the sheriff, a personal enemy, in spite ofthe signs and tokens of the breaking ropes, hung him while he had areprieve in his pocket. There is a kind of Rob Royish flavor about thememory of this man in the country side. 

Continued our drive to Pontoon. As soon as the land became rugged, boggyand comparatively worthless the tenant houses became more plentiful. Sawsome sheep about, which is always a cheering sign amid the utter povertyof the people. On the way to Pontoon, on the top of a rock stands one ofthe famous rocking stones of the Druidical time in Ireland. A party ofsoldiers in their boisterous play determined to roll it down from therock. This they were unable to do, easy as the matter looked, but theydestroyed the delicate poise of it, and it rocks no more. 

The rocks become bolder and the scenery wilder as you come to the shoresof Lough Conn. Lough Cullen, or lower Lough Conn, has bare round-shouldered rocks sleeping round it, reminding one of the rocks on theOttawa about the Oiseau. The Neiphin Mountain towers up among the rocksfar above them all, looking over their heads into the lake. Lough Connis three miles long, and in its widest place three miles wide. Where theupper and lower lakes meet it is narrow as a river, and over this thebridge is placed. The marvel here is that a strong current sets in fromLough Conn to Lough Cullen half the time, and then turns and sets fromLough Cullen to Lough Conn. The bridge is called Pontoon because abridge of boats was made here at the time of the French invasion. 

Saw some fishermen fishing in the lakes. There were many boats here andthere lying on the sandy shore, or anchored out in the lake. Thesefishermen had no boats; they had waded out waist-deep, and stood fishingin the water dressed in their shirts. As the fishing is strictlymonopolized, I should not wonder if these breekless, boatless fishermenwere poaching. 

The quantum of fish in the waters, the scarcity of fish on the shore isoften referred to as a proof of the people's laziness. The fishing is soseverely monopolized that fish diet and fishing are to the people almostlost arts. I heard of the delicious oysters found on the coast, but onewould require to go to England or Dublin to test their flavor. Lobsterscould be purchased in their season at Montreal, but not at the seaportsin Mayo. I asked for a bit of fish at Castlebar, where I remained sometime, and once succeeded in buying a small herring, for which I paid 21/2 pence. 

To return to Pontoon; we stood on the bridge in the sunlight and drankin the scene--broad blue waters, spotted with islands, guarded by themunitions of rocks, watched over by the eternal mountains, bald andwrinkled, every wrinkle scored deep on their brows, heather on thecliffs, ivy creeping some places, ferns waving their delicate fronds inanother; bare, desolate grandeur here, tree-crowned hill tops wavingtheir magnificence before you there. This was the scene spread out oneither hand. 

We came back over the bridge to the police barracks, sitting on a rockwith its back to a grove of trees, and reached by a flight of stonesteps. I was introduced to the sergeant in charge, a fine specimen ofthe Donegal men. Tall and straight, strong and kindly are the men ofDonegal. The sergeant took us to a hill back of the barracks where was avery lonely vale surrounded by steep hills wooded to the top. Down theperpendicular sides of this hill a waterfall dashes in the rainyseasons, but it was only a tinkling splash at this time. The sergeantand I had some conversation about Donegal, and of course Lord Leitrim. This noblemen has graven his name with an iron pen and lead on the rocksfor ever. 

We bade adieu to the kindly sergeant and drove back to Castlebar in thequiet evening. Opposite the Turlough round tower is the charmingresidence of a Fitzgerald, one of the race whose dust moulders in anaristocratic manner in the ruined abbey of Turlough. This gentleman, notthinking himself safe even under protection, has left the country. Onlyfancy a squad of police marching from their barracks in the dusk, fiveor ten miles as the case may be, pacing round a gentleman's house inrain or snow, sleet or hail, no shelter for their coercion heads, nofire at which to warm their protecting fingers; pace about from dusktill dawning, march back to barracks and to a few hours' rest. I wassilly enough to suppose that the protected family would provide a bowlof hot coffee for their protectors through the silent watches of thenight, or a glass of the handier and very popular whiskey, but dear, ohno! the most of them would not acknowledge the existence of the RoyalIrish protectors with a word or a nod no more than if they were watchdogs. 

XXXVII. 

CASTLEBAR--WASTING THE LAND--CASTLE BOURKE--BALLINTUBBER ABBEY. 

Castlebar is not a large town at all. It is, like all other towns whichI have yet seen in Ireland, swarming with houses licensed to sellliquors of different kinds to be drunk on the premises. In one street Inoticed on the side of the car on which I sat every house for quite alittle distance was a licensed whiskey shop. 

The country people bring in ass-loads of what they have to sell. Veryfew horses are to be seen in the hands of country people. Their tradingis on a decidedly small scale. The number of women who attend marketbarefoot is the large majority. The ancient blue cloth cloak is theprevailing hap. Upon a day my friend and I went out to see the gloriesof Ballintubber Abbey. It was not possible for him to go in plainclothes so soon again; so I had the appearance of an obnoxious lady ofthe land, protected by a member of the force. 

We drove out of Castlebar some seven or eight miles in the oppositedirection from where Pontoon Bridge lies. Our road lay for miles throughthe country wasted of inhabitants by the Marquis of Sligo after thegreat famine. Here and there a ruin where a cabin has been speaks thatit was once inhabited. The people tell that Lord Sligo's people wererented the land in common by the settlement. All but two of onesettlement had paid; as those two could not pay, the whole were evicted. My informant thought the settlement deserved eviction when they did notsubscribe and pay for the two who could not pay. He never seemed tothink they might not be able to do so, nor that it was cruel to evictall for the sake of two. 

Lord Lucan made a great wasting also at that time. Between the land nearthe town devoted to private demesnes, laid out for glory and beauty, andthe lands wasted of inhabitants, you can travel miles and miles on morethan one side of Castlebar and see scarcely a tenant; a herd's cabin, apolice station, being the only houses. As soon as we come to barren landover-run with stones, tenant houses become thicker. 

We passed a cabin of indescribable wretchedness; a woman who might havesat for a picture of famine stood at the door looking at us as wepassed. She had a number of little children, of the raggedest they were, around her. Some time ago the father of these scarecrows was suspectedof having stolen some money, and a posse of the much enduring policewere sent out to search in the dead of the night. The family were inbed. The bed was a few boards laid on stones, on which was spread alittle green hay, and among the loose hay they slept. The terror of thelittle creatures pulled out of bed, while the wretched lair was searchedand they stood on the floor naked and shivering, was described to me byone who assisted at the search. The bed was overturned, but the moneywas not found. We drove on through the "stony streak" out to a clearergrass country to Castle Bourke, a lonely looking ruin sitting among herown desolations. It once covered a great deal of land, and there isevidence of additions having been made to it at different times. ThisCastle Bourke was one of the castles of the Queen of the West, thecelebrated Grace O'Malley. This castle is one of those given to Grace byher husband of a year, Sir Richard Bourke. 

There are still the remains of three buildings; one, said to be theprison, was loopholed through the solid stone, some loopholes beingquite close to the ground, some straight through, some slanting, so asto cover a man come from what direction he might, or what height soever, even if he crept on the ground. Most of the castle, as well as thesebuildings attached, had their roof on the floor, but in the square towerof the castle proper still remains a stone staircase of the circularkind. 

As you go up this stair lit by narrow slits in the wall formed in hewnstone you find an arched door at three different places admitting tothree arched galleries roofed and floored with stone. These have theirloophole slits to peep out of, or fire out of, stone spouts throughwhich molten lead or boiling water could be poured on the besiegers. Inone gallery a trap door let down to an underground passage which cameout at the lake some distance off. By this they could send a messengerto raise the O'Malley clans, or by it could escape if necessary. 

The goats of Mayo are inquisitive, and would persist in climbing thecircular stair and exploring the galleries. Whenever they found thissecret passage, for pure mischief they fell down and were killed, to thegreat loss of their owners; so the secret passage is filled up, forwhich I was very sorry. 

We must take our car again and rattle back over the road to BallintubberAbbey. Ballintobar (town of the well) near this was one of the sacredwells of St. Patrick. The abbey gates were locked, and it was some timebefore the key was forthcoming. The church part of the abbey is entireexcept the roof and the lofty bell tower. The arch that supported thetower was forty-five feet in height, but I do not know how high thetower was which it supported. At last the key was found and we wereadmitted into the church. The chancel is still roofed, and here in thesesolemn ruins, watched over by the crows and the jackdaws, the fewinhabitants still left assemble for mass. There is a rude wooden altarand a few pine benches; the ivy waves from the walls; the jackdaws cawquerulously or derisively; the dead of the old race for centuries sleepunderneath, and now in a chancel the remnant gather on a Sabbath. Icannot describe it as an architect or antiquarian, and these classesknow all about it better than I do, but I want to convey as far as I canthe impression it made upon me to others as delightfully ignorant on thesubject. The roof is made in the same way as all arched roofs of oldcastles which I have yet seen, of thin stones laid edge-wise to form thearch and cemented together. The country people tell me that a frame ofwood was made over which they formed the arch and then poured among thestones thin mortar boiling hot. On the inside of the arch run along ribsof hewn stone cemented into their places, running up to meet in a carvedpoint at the extreme top. These groinings spring from short pillars ofhewn stone that only reach part way down the wall to the floor and runto a point. These consoles are highly ornamented with sculpture. Themouldings round the doors, and the stone window frames and sashes, arewonderfully well done, and would highly ornament a church of thenineteenth century. 

I think we undervalue the civilization of the far past of Connaught. Those who erected such churches, such abbeys and such castles were bothintelligent and possessed of wealth in no small degree. The ingenuity ofthe cut stone hinge on the stone that closes the tomb in the chancel, the carving on the tomb of the Prince of the O'Connor line, the staunchsolidness of every wall, the immense strength of every arched roof, showskilled builders, whether they worked under the direction, of the GobhanSaer or another man. The plans of the castles, for offence, defence orescape, show them to have been built by men of skill for men of largemeans and great power. 

XXXVIII. 

OVER-POPULATION OF THE WEST--HOW PEOPLE FORM THEIR OPINIONS--MR. SMITHWICK AND JONATHAN PYM--A DEARTH OF FISH. 

Left Castlebar with regret and went down to Westport. I find at everystep since I landed the information that in going round Ireland I shouldhave begun at Dublin. In Dublin I could have procured a guide book. Ihave sought for one in every considerable town from Belfast round to theedge of Galway without obtaining it. If I had started from Dublin Ishould have taken a tourist's ticket there. Well, I am not sorry forthat, for it is rather hard on me when I get into the beaten track whereI encounter tourists--some of them are trying specimens of humanity. However, I am made to feel as if I was patting the wrong foot, insteadof the best foot foremost. 

I got into Westport in the fair sunlight in the early part of June. Between Castlebar and Westport the land is part stony, part bog, partbetter land under grass. Mountains with hard names, that one makes hasteto forget, are to be seen all round from whatever side of the car youlook. They are all over--a good deal over--one thousand feet high. A fewlakes are spread out here and there also. I am as ignorant of theirnames as of those of the lakes I saw crossing Maine. Westport, likeCastlebar, has a mall. Castlebar mall is a square of grass with sometrees drawn up on one side. It is fenced in with chains looped up onposts--a fence that nobody minds except to step over and they track thegrass with paths running in every direction. Westport's mall is a longspace with trees standing sentry by a river, walled in as if it were acanal. 

I had a wish to meet with a Mr. Smithwick, a land agent, from whom Imight receive a good deal of information. I had information from himselfthat he should be at Newport upon the day after I arrived at Westport. Ifought successfully against myself, and got up at an uncomfortably earlyhour and went to Newport by mail car. Newport, Mayo, is six Irish--sevenand a half English--miles from Westport and is at the head of Clew Bay. The road lies through a nice rolling country, entirely desolate andempty. 

The only passenger by the car besides myself, was a gentleman, English Ipresume, who, after he became tired of silence, began a conversationwith me, taking for his subject the over-population of the West. Ilooked to the side of the car where we sat--it was a country of finegrassy hills with not one wreath of smoke curling up from a solitarychimney as far as the eye could reach. I leaned over the well of the carand looked to the other side--to the limit of the horizon, behold, theland was empty of house or home or human being. I looked over thehorses' ears--there was the same scene of utter desolation. I turnedround with difficulty and looked behind us--saw the same grassy hillsswelling up in green silence without man or beast. I said softly, "Liftup thine eyes, sir stranger, and look northward and southward, eastwardand westward. Is not the land desolate without inhabitant, where then isthe over-population?" The strange gentleman looked, not at the emptyhills and the silent green valleys, but at his fellow-traveller withemotions of fear. To doubt that this fair and desolate Mayo is over-populated is to show signs of lunacy or worse. Fenianism, Communism, oreven Nihilism, is possible if there is no lunacy to account for suchstrange ideas. 

Mildly, but with resolution like Samantha's, I urged on the gentleman tolook at the prospect, and he was like one awakening from a dream, forthe country from Newport to Westport, seven and a half miles, is withoutinhabitants. I believe Lord Lucan was chief exterminator over thisstretch of country. Brought up at the little inn at Newport, and thestranger and I had breakfast together. We conversed about over-population. He had travelled much, and when he recollected what his eyessaw instead of what his ears heard of a false cry, he admitted that aloneliness had fallen upon this part of the west. 

After breakfast he went his way, with a new subject for thought, and I, deserted in a wilderness of a commercial room, took out some paper andbegan to write. There was no sound but the steel scratch of a pen thatgrew monotonous. After a long time--some hours--of solitude, the dooropened and a gentleman entered with some luggage and a young womanfollowed him. I gathered up my scribblings and put them away. Thegentleman took off his overcoat, and shining out of the breast pocketwas a bright revolver. I grew afraid, though, generally speaking, I amtoo busy to think of being afraid. There was a trans-Atlantic look aboutthe gentleman, a Mississippi appearance about the too conspicuousrevolver, and, I admit, I thought of some Fenian leader and wonderedwhat Stephens was like. I heard the gentleman order lunch and afterwardhe left the room. 

When he returned he introduced himself as Mr. Smithwick. He was not atall the kind of gentleman I had expected to see. By some perversity hehad become fixed in my imagination as a very tall gentleman with faircurled hair. Now this was sheer foolishness, but it had a disastrouseffect on the interview. My mind, instead of gathering itself up into anattitude for receiving information about the land question, would go offwool-gathering in speculation whether this was the very Mr. Smithwick ornot. The gentleman said with all politeness that he was willing to giveme all the information in his power on any subject on which I wantedinformation. 

There is something not canny in the west. I had felt it before, butnever as I did then. I could not possibly disentangle my ideas enough tobe clear as to what information I did want. I was under some spell. Icould only look at Mr. Smithwick, wondering if he was he, and smile atmy own stupidity. Time passes quickly; the gentleman remained but aboutan hour and a half at most, and he had to have luncheon out of that andattend to some little business in town besides. Before I got to bemyself he was gone. We did talk a little about reclaiming bog land. Heput the cost per acre for trenching, laying stones in the drains, sandand manure, at L21 per acre. Reclaiming bog land has been done by tenantfarmers all over the country, who were evicted afterward when they fellbehind in rent in the bad years, and did not get any compensation forthe land so reclaimed. Mr. Smithwick did not think the relief money inall cases reached those for whom it was intended; believed it was partlyintercepted on the way. Did not have a high opinion of his countrymen ofthe poorer class. Thought them a useless set who did not do the work oftheir farms properly; did not even make a drain properly if done forthemselves; made it in a proper manner if made on another man's land, because there he was overseen, and if he slighted his work he would notget paid for it. In short, "Paddy anywhere but at home is a splendidman, but at home he is worthless. "

Mr. Smithwick deplored the present agitation among the people; deploredit as an agitation got up, not for people's benefit, but to feather thenests and fill the pockets of agitators. He informed me that he himselfhad to carry a pistol wherever he went. In speaking of rents Mr. Smithwick informed me that the lands were really rented low; that thepeople could pay, and were quite able to pay, were it not for the adviceof agitators; said he was getting no rent at all these years. The totalcessation of rent coming in was a great deprivation to landlords, whodepended on their rents for the means of living. 

Mr. Smithwick thought emigration was the remedy for the undeniablepoverty of the country, for if the people got their farms for nothingthey could not make a living out of them, owing to their shiftlessmethod of farming. I objected that it would be scarcely fair to sendtheir people, who were so useless and helpless, over to be a burden onus, but Mr. Smithwick thought that they would soon come in to our ways, and help themselves, and be not a burden but a help to the community. Ifound out in conversation with this gentleman that to reach Ballycroy, where he lives, I should have come from Ballina. I seem perversely totake the long way round. Mr. Smithwick kindly explained to me the way Ishould go to reach Ballycroy by private car. He thought there was solittle of interest in that direction that it would hardly repay me for along tiresome journey, and that Connemara direction was much more fullof interest. After his croydon had driven off I began to remembervarious points on which I should have liked to obtain his opinion that Ihad never thought of once when I had the opportunity. Perhaps it was thevery early drive that had wearied me, but I was dreadfully stupid allthrough the interview. I had counted a great deal on seeing this man, and I seemed to myself to have gained nothing of facts to which onecould refer triumphantly in support of an opinion in consequence of it. 

To wake myself up I enquired of the civil landlady if there were anywonderful sights to be seen in the neighborhood within an easy drive. Yes, there was Borrishoole Monastery (the place of owls) and Carrig aOwlagh (rock of the fleet) Castle, one of the strongholds of GrannaUisle Well, got a car and driver and drove off to see these ruins. I wastold that no tourist ever visited Newport without going to see them. 

As we rattled and jolted over the roughest bit of road which I have yetseen in Ireland, the driver, a dark, keen-eyed man, began to talk oflandlords, of the wasting and exterminating Lords Lucan and Sligo. Iasked him whom did he think a good landlord. He answered immediately, "Jonathan Pym. " "If you think him so good you might say Mr. Pym. " "Whena man is the best in any way he's too big for Mr. , " said the manreadily. "I dare say, " I remarked, "that this Jonathan Pym is verylittle better than the rest. " "But I say he is, " retorted the manfiercely. "Where inside of the four seas of Ireland will you get hisaiquil? He bought the land, coming among us a stranger, and he did notraise the rents. The people live under the rents their fathers paid. ""Well, that's not much?" "If you were a tenant you would thinkdifferently. He took off the thatch of the cabins and put on slates athis own expense: There is not a broken roof on the land that he owns. Every tenant he has owns a decent house, with byre and barn, shed andstable, and he done it all out of the money he had, that never waslifted out of the land, and after all left them in at the ould rents. There has never been wan eviction on his place yet. " "Has he been shotat yet?" I enquired innocently. "Arrah, what would he be shot for?"demanded the man, turning his swarthy face and black eyes full on me. "Ithought maybe some one might shoot him for fun, " I explained, feebly. "Fun!" growled the car-man, "quare fun! If a man is shot or shot at hedeserves it richly. He's not a rale gentleman, word and deed, likeJonathan Pym. "

The driver continued to praise the wonderful landlord, Jonathan Pym, ina growling kind of tone as if, were I his spouse, he would thwack mewell to cure my unbelief, as we jolted over the stones to the ruins ofthe monastery of owls. 

There is a lake, the lake of owls, near this ruin, and in it, it issaid, gentlemen anglers can readily obtain leave to fish. I have heardthat amateur anglers give the fish they catch to the person who givesthe permit, retaining the sport of catching as their share; or if theywant the fish paying for them at market price. I think this unlikely, but it may be so nevertheless. 

The monastery was once a splendid place, to judge by the remains of thecarving on window and arched door. One of the skulls of Grace O'Malleyused to be kept here as a precious relic. There was another at ClareIsland and I think I also heard of another. It seems some speculativeand sacrilegious Scotchman brought a ship round the west coast ofIreland to gather up the bones lying in the abbeys to crush them formanure, and they took the brave sea queen's bones and skull with therest. 

Returned to Newport in a very undecided frame of mind whether to go toBallycroy or not. There was a Land League meeting to be held there, andI might see that; but then I had been at two Land League meetings, andthey are pretty much alike. Of course it is well to see a greatassemblage of people, for they always are of interest as showing whatcondition the people are in, and what sentiments find an echo in theirhearts. But the length of the way, the uncertainty of a place to stop athad some weight, and I found myself unable to decide. To clear up mybrain I asked for a bit of fish for dinner, but such a thing could notbe obtained at Newport. The fish caught there are exported. They mightget a fish by going down to the boat for it, and paying dearer for itthan the Dublin price. I asked for fish at Westport with the sameresult. If you mention salmon they will say, "Oh, yes, " and if notstopped, rush off and buy a can of American salmon for you. I gotsomething to eat--not fish, and not very eatable--and wrote a littlewhile, with the same stupid sensation bothering me that I had feltduring my interview with Mr. Smithwick, and decided to put off alldecision and go to bed, which I did. 

In the morning, having found that Newport was the nearest point by whichto reach Achill Island, I determined to go there, and if I thought Icould endure the journey to diverge at Mulrany and drive to Ballycroy onmy return from Achill Island. 

XXXIX. 

BY THE SHORE OF CLEW BAY--ACROSS ACHILL ISLAND--A LONELY LOVELYRETREAT. 

The drive from Newport, Mayo, to Mulrany was very pleasant. The roadswinds along Clew Bay, that bay of many islands, for quite a distance. Clew Bay was resting, calm as a mirror, blue and bright, not a lap ofthe wave washed up on the shore of Green island or Rocky Point the daywe drove past. No fisher's boat divided the water with hopeful keel. Theintense solitude of bays and inlets as well as the loughs looks likeenchantment. It reminds one of the drowsy do-nothingness of "Thompson'sCastle of Indolence, " only here the indolence is not the indolence ofluxurious ease but of hunger and rags. If the knight of arts andindustry will ever destroy monopoly, and these silent waters will bealive with enterprise:

 "When many fishing barks put out to fish along the coast. "

there will be a happy change in the comfortless cabins that dot theshores of Clew Bay. 

The islands of Clew Bay, being treeless and green, have a new look, asif they had just heaved up their backs above the waters and were waitingfor the fiat that shall pronounce them good. I looked with longing eyesin the direction of Clare Island, that has one side to the bay and oneside to the broad Atlantic which lies between me and home. On ClareIsland is the remains of Doona Castle, the principal stronghold, of theheroic Grace, where she held the heir of Howth captive till ransomed, and till his father learned to understand what _Cead mille failte_means at dinner time. 

Here, by Tulloghan Bay, I was told to look across the bay, where theheather-clad mountains rise above the broad heather-clad bog, where theroad to Ballycroy winds along between the bay and the mountains, pasthouses of mortarless stone, hard to be distinguished from the heath; forover there in a certain spot occurred the shooting affray which has madeyoung Mr. Smith, the son of the then agent for the Marquis of Sligo, aman of renown. 

The hard feeling between the exterminating Marquis, the agent whoexecuted his will and the tenantry was intense. Four men were lying inwait here with the intention of shooting Mr. Smith, who was expected topass that way. He drove along accompanied by his son. The would-beassassins fired; they were concealed above the road; the shots passedharmlessly over the heads of the two Smiths. Young Mr. Smith, who is anexceptionally good shot--can hit a small coin at an immense distance--saw the men run and fired after them, killing one, fired again, woundinganother, and would have fired again, but was prevented by his father. 

Young Mr. Smith is quite a hero among the people on this account. Thereis an expressed regret that Mr. Smith the elder interfered to preventthe young marksman from shooting them all; very few would blame him ifhe did, as the men, though too nervous to do harm, lay in wait for thepurpose of murder. Still it is revolting to hear people in cold bloodregret so heartily that there was not more bloodshed. 

The scenery--as scenery--was as grand as bare heathery mountains andwide desolate waters could make an almost treeless solitude, but viewedas a home for human beings, viewed as land that has rent and taxes andexistence to be carved out of it, it has a hopeless look. 

The houses are something dreadful, to consider them in the light ofhuman habitations. Limestone does not abound here, and therefore thehouses of the poorer sort are built like a cairn or a fence of loosestones without mortar. When the Atlantic winds sweep in here in wintertime, the crevices in these houses will be so many chinks to whistlethrough. God pity the poor!

The people along the road here had a thrifty look; the men wore homespuncoats; the pinned-up dresses of the women showed petticoats which werehomespun of warm madder red, well dyed, good and comfortable looking. Ofcourse the majority of the women were barefoot, but they were used toit. 

At Molraney we stopped to deliver mails. In these cases the passengerssit on the car in the street, while the driver hands in the mail, gossips awhile, goes into the convenient "licensed to sell" for a tasteof something, and the police saunter down for the mail and look youover, judiciously but not offensively, and at last you make anotherstart. 

Arrived at the Sound, you find a nice-looking hotel for such a remoteplace. There is any amount of liquor to be got: you can also get thenever-varying chop or steak served up with another variety of miserablecooking, but you cannot get a bit of fish any more than if the sea werefive hundred miles off instead of lapping on the rocks less than a perchaway. Was pulled across the Sound by two young girls, who handled thebig oars as if they were used to them, and urged the boat with its loadof men across the green waters very swiftly with their strong whitearms. As we neared the island of Achill trees were conspicuous by theirabsence, and purple heather was plentiful. 

Achill island is a treeless place. There are mountains beyond mountainslying against the sky, heather clad or mossgrown; there are small lakeslying at the foot of mountains or between mountains; there are drearyexpanses of bog stretching for miles on each side of the road between usand the mountains, and rising out of the bog are wee bits of fields andmost horrible habitations. We passed the plantation, noticeable becausethere is not another, that Mr. Pike has coaled to flourish round hisfine house. There are dark green firs, feathery light green larches, birches, and other trees that dress in green only when summer comes;great clumps of laurel and rhododendron, the latter one mass of blossomsthat almost hide the leaves beneath their rosy purple. Mr. Pike hasalready made for himself a delicious looking home amid this barrenwaste. It enriched our eyes to look at it. 

Mr. Pike and Mr. Stoney, of the castellated new building down at theedge of Clew Bay, have the distinction of being the most unpopularlandlords in this part of the country. After we passed Mr. Pike's placethere were no more trees. The houses are very bad indeed; the cattle inthe pasture are of the small native breed, and have little appearance ofmilk; the sheep are very miserable and scraggy. I have often heard ofCook's recipes saying, "Take the scrag end of a piece of mutton. " Theserecipes must have emanated from Achill Island, where the mutton must bepretty much all scrag. 

After we drove a long way--what appeared a long way--I do not believethey measure all the crooks and turns this most serpentine of roads intothe miles--we passed establishment of lay brothers called the Monastery. There is quite a block of white buildings, and a good many reclaimedfields, green with the young crops, lie in the valley below them. Thereis a bell in a cupola that will call to work and worship, and a chapelwhere they meet to pray. The valley where their fields lie stretches tothe sea, and in the bay lay a smack of some kind by which they trade toWestport. They labor with their own hands, so have not the name ofemploying any laborers, but have the name of dispensing charity. Ishould have liked to see the buildings and the brethren, but did notmake the attempt. 

At length we came to Dugart, the Missionary settlement. A little row ofwhite-washed houses on one side of a street that ran up hill, anotherrow of whitewashed houses that ran along the brow of the hill at a rightangle. Slieve Mor behind towering up between the village and the sea;below the hill at the foot of another mountain is the rectory, beside itthe church, both having a trimming of young trees; some good fields, thebest I have seen in Achill, and a pretty garden lie round both rectoryand church. This is the mission village of Dugart. 

At the corner where the two rows of whitewashed houses meet is the PostOffice. As we drove up there was a gentleman with a northern kindlinessin his face, a long brown beard, an unmistakable air of authority, whomwe found out was the rector of Achill. After introduction and someconversation, he kindly invited me to the rectory after I had brushedoff some of the dust of travel. 

The Dugart hotel possesses a large collection of stuffed sea birds, theproprietor having taste and skill in that direction, and I was enabledto take a nearer view of specimens of the birds that sail and screamround the Achill mountains, eagles and gulls, puffins and cormorants, than I would otherwise have done. After a little rest and refreshment Iwalked down the hill to the lonely, lovely rectory in the valley below. 

There is a solidity about a stone house, stone porch and stone wall inevery part of Ireland; a strength that makes one think how easily ahouse could be turned into a fortalice at a short notice. 

I confess I liked this rector, so tall and stately, with his long beard, grave, kindly face, northern speech, penetrating look, with a certainair of authority as became a pastor in charge. When he asked mepleasantly if I had come as a friend, I thought at once of the Bethlehemelders to Samuel, "Comest thou peaceably?" I think I almost envied thisman his position, the power which he holds as a leader to be a patriotworker for the good of his countrymen and countrywomen on the barrenisle of Achill. 

We walked upon the shady path that leads from rectory to church, undergreen arches of leafage, in the real dim religious light which grandcathedrals only imitate. There is a nice useful garden on one side ofthe path, stocked with things good for food and pleasant to the eye. Along one side is a hedge eight feet high of fuschia growing thus in theopen air, proving that it is possible to turn sheltered spots of barrenAchill into nooks suggestive of Eden. 

The little church to which this romantic path brought us was such achurch as one might snuggle down in to learn the way to Zion, and enjoythe comfort of the old, old story. This mission was begun by the Rev. Edward Naugh, I believe, in the famine time. It invaded the island withbread and the Bible. I hear that it has done much good, chiefly, Ibelieve, in educating and emigrating the people. 

The village of the mission opposite the rectory has two schools, an innor hotel, a co-operative store, a post-office, some dwellings ofcoastguard's men and other official and semi-official people, the agentover the mission property for one. A little further away on the seasands is a miserable collection of cabins inhabited by the people. Therewere some poor-looking farmhouses dotting the mountain side. 

As far as I could learn there was no industry on Achill Island buttilling their miserable crofts. The fishing was monopolized by one man, a Mr. Hector, a Scotchman. The people as far as I could learn had noboats fitted for deep sea fishing and the coast fishing was monopolized. They are said to be lazy, unthrifty, unenergetic. I enquired a littleabout this and it seemed to me as if there was a door locked and barredbetween them and any field for the display of energy with hope--withoutan atmosphere of hope, energy is a plant that will not thrive. It ishope, and nothing but hope, that nerves the backwoods settler of Canadato do battle with summer heat and winter snow, with the inexorable logicof circumstances, and he conquers because he has hope. Over everypeasant holding in Ireland of the western part there is written, "Hereis no hope. " The superior mind looks upon the peasantry as minors whoare not able to judge for themselves, who need to be tied down withoffice rules, and held in by proprietory bit and bridle. They admit, that they do well in the free air of Canada, but they contend thatthrift, forethought, frugality is produced in them by desperation. I seedesperation all round here producing a recklessness and despair. I knowthat hope is the star that shines for the backwoods Canadian to lighthim to competence. 

I did not see any of the mission tenants in Achill. I saw nothing butwhat lay on the surface. I have no doubt that the mission has done goodin many ways, great good. I am sorry, however, that they lost theopportunity of testing the capabilities of the islanders to flourish aspeasant proprietors; it is not always well for the church to havevineyards and oliveyards, manservants and maidservants. It is wellsometimes for the church to come down like her Master and to bealongside of the discouraged mortal who has toiled through a lifetimeand caught nothing but hunger and rags, to share with them the toil andwant. 

XL. 

REMEMBRANCES OF THE GREAT FAMINE--THE "PLANTED" SCOTCH FARMERS--ABEAUTIFUL EDIFICE. 

On my return from Achill Island I decided that I would not take anotherpost car drive to Ballycroy, and returned to Mulraney again along thesame road in the shadow of the mountains. On to Newport we drove, backover the road winding along the side of Clew Bay, and across the head ofthe bay through the lonely country leading back to Westport. 

The driver, a weather-beaten man in a weather-worn drab coat, entertained me with tales of the clearances made in the famine time thatleft the country side so empty. It is hard to believe that ever humanbeings were so cruel to other human beings in this Christian land, andthat it passed unknown, or comparatively unknown, to the rest of theworld. 

This man told, with a certain grim satisfaction, of what he called God'sjudgments which had fallen on "exterminators. " The common people of theWest have a firm belief that God is on their side, no matter whattrouble he allows to come over them. "Sure I do feel my heart afire, when gintlemen sit on my car driving through this loneliness an' talk ofover-population. Over-population! and the country empty!" I wish I couldremember all this old man said, but I can only recall snatches here andthere. 

It is most amazing to think that, when the world at large was sendinghelp to save the Irish people alive in the awful visitation, so manywere throwing their tenants out on the road to die. And these people hadby hard toil won a living here and paid rent. Every rood of this land, every cabin had helped to swell princely revenues, until the finger ofGod came down in famine, and then, when the revenue stopped, there wasno pity, and it seemed to these poor people that there was no one thatregarded them. I do not wish to ever come to that time of life when Ican hear of the scenes that wasted this country without feeling apassion of sorrow and regret. 

I spoke of these things to a worthy gentleman resident in another partof the country and he brushed it aside as if it were a fly, saying, "Oh, that is long past, thirty years and more. " Memory is very strong amongpeople who seem to have little to look forward to--the past seems theprincipal outlook. Every incident of the French landing here so far backas '98 is told to me in the West here with a freshness of detail as ifit happened a few years ago; one can imagine, therefore, how the cruelevictions of the famine time fit themselves into the memory of thepeople, especially as the rush of fresh evictions are awaking all thehorrors of the past. 

It seemed a gloomy satisfaction to this man to tell over what heconsidered God's judgments which had fallen on exterminators. He pointedout to me many who seemed doomed to be the last of their race. 

At last we passed the long, dead wall which encloses the magnificentdemesne of the Marquis of Sligo and drew up at Westport once more. Thelocal papers which await me are full of Miss Gardner and her war withher tenants--more evictions, emergency men from Dublin to holdpossession--and all the rest. I was introduced by a Protestant clergymanto a gentleman connected with the executive of the law for a quarter ofa century. He knows the heartrending inner history of legal eviction. This gentleman has a wonderful tenderness in his heart for Miss Gardner. "Sure she grew up among us. The other one (Miss Pringle) found her askindly a woman as was on God's earth and has made an ogre of her. "

I will give an extract or two out of the softest part of the statementhe has drawn up for me. 

He tells of a landlord who evicted whole townlands in 1847. He hated thepeople because the famine swept over them. He became possessed with thesame ideas as other landlords of the period, whose income had diminishedthrough the visitation of God, that if the present possessors wererooted out and depopulated lands planted with Scotchmen, their skill andcapital would prevent a recurrence of famine. 

Now it is a fact freely attested to me by clergymen of differentdenominations that the planted people of Mayo required help, and help toa very large amount to keep them from starvation during the lastscarcity. On many estates in Mayo and the adjoining parts of Sligo theProtestant population would have died of hunger but for the large helpgiven both denominationally, and otherwise. They could not have seededtheir grounds but for seed freely given them. Fields in Mayo this seasonare lying bare because the wretched people are not able to get seed toput in the ground. Some of the planted people complained to me thatthough when they settled on their present lands they got them cheap, twoshillings and sixpence an acre for wild land, yet as they improved theirland the rent was raised to five, to seven and six, to fourteen, and nowto over a pound an acre. These men also complained that they could notpossibly exist at all during these last seasons and pay the rent whichwas laid on them in consequence of the improvements done by their ownlabor. I find by the most conclusive proof that a difference ofreligious belief did not enable the settlers any more than the nativesto pay a rent that could not be produced from the soil. The desire tochange the nationality and religion of his tenants was so strong in onelandlord that, in the words of my informant, "A scene of ruthless havocbegan among his tenantry. To stimulate the slowness of the crowbarbrigade he was known to tear down human habitations with his own hands. "I remember these poor people standing in the market in those dark daysof famine, having their bits of furniture for sale on the streets, andthere were none to buy. I have heard the wailing of men, women andchildren on the coach-top day after day, when these fortunateunfortunates were escaping from their native land forever. I saw thosewho could not go in the agonies of death in the fever sheds. Thesescenes happened over thirty years ago, but they will never be forgotten. Four large townlands, on which eighty homes had been, became awilderness of grass and rank weeds. No Scotch were forthcoming for thewrecked farms. There was a Nemesis in store for him. His day of evictioncame about, and in his trouble his tenants saw retribution. As charitykept some of his tenants alive, so he also was indebted to the charityof friends, and passed away to meet his tenants at a bar where highblood or aristocratic connections do not sway the Judge who sits on thethrone of justice, nor does party prejudice blind his eyes. 

When Miss Gardner came of age it took all the property of her father topay the money secured to her by her mother's settlement, and she enteredinto possession in his stead. Like Queen Elizabeth, whom Miss Gardnergreatly resembles, she had in her youth known troubles; sympathy forthese trials, so well known to the peasantry, made them receive her withopen arms and open hearts. In the interval between Miss Gardner enteringinto possession and her coming under the influence of Miss Pringle sheset herself to repair the havoc made by her predecessor, and was theidol of her tenantry. She was near neighbor to the model farm andorphanage presided over by the Scotch ladies. Philanthropy collected thevast sums which bought and stocked the model farm at Ballinglen. Whentheir mode of managing matters there could be no longer hidden from thePresbyterian Church which they misrepresented, the mission came outlargely indebted to these ladies. It took all the stock to pay off itsindebtedness to one lady, and the farm itself to pay the other. It isthe lady who got the farm as her share, that lives with Miss Gardner, and gets the credit of her every unpopular act. She has divided betweenher and her only friend in the dark days. This Scotch hag found her akind-hearted woman, and has made her into an ogre. Some of thiscommunication, the hardest of it, I shall reserve, also severalconfirmatory anecdotes given me at Westport. 

In mercy to the readers, I will only say that Miss Gardner has intensecourage and an intellect of masculine strength, and resembles QueenElizabeth in more ways than one. It is a great pity that she has notQueen Bess's popularity or her care for her people. 

Westport, when I have time to look at it, is a very pretty town. Itsbuildings, its hotels and the warehouses on the quay look as if it oncehad an extensive and flourishing trade, or was prepared for andexpecting it. There was, I am told, once a flourishing linen trade here, but it has gone to decay. The town is in a little hollow, with pleasanttree-crowned green hills rising all round it; at one side is the demesneof the Marquis of Sligo, which is open to the public. These groundsextend for miles, and are as beautiful as gorgeous trees, green grass, dark woods, waters that leap and flash, spanned by rustic bridges, canmake them. There are winding walks leading through the green fields, under trees, into woods, up hill and down, into shady glens, where youmight wander for miles and lose yourself in green-wood solitudes. Crowdsof Westport folk, in the calm evening, saunter through the grounds andenjoy their beauty. 

The little town has a subdued expression of prosperity. You feelconscious that some business is going on that enables the inhabitants ofthe town to live comfortably and to dress respectably. You hear of themills of the Messrs. Livingstone, of their business in trading and land-owning, until you are convinced that they are the centre round whichthis little world revolves. 

I had a lady pointed out to me here as being in such embarrassedcircumstances, owing to the non-payment of rent, that her son wasobliged to join the police force to earn a living. I heard also greatsympathy expressed for another gentleman in Dublin who has many sons, whom he has brought up to do nothing, and who has been reduced by thestrike against rent to absolute poverty. I am told that banks in Dublinare glutted with family silver left as security for loans. These peopleare to be pitied, for poverty is poverty in purple or in rags; but whenpoverty comes to actual want, it is still more pitiful. 

XLI. 

GOING TO ENGLAND FOR WORK--CANADA AND AMERICA. 

I have been going against the stream on my travels. I am reminded, incessantly that I should have begun at Dublin. Going backward, as I amdoing, the orthodox route is to Leenane, passing Erriff and the Devil'sMother, but the regular cars were not yet running, I was told, nor werethey likely to run this summer, as, owing to the exaggerated reports ofoutrage, tourists are not expected in any numbers. Was persuaded to takea special car to go by Leenane round the coast. Would have liked to doso, but not to bear all the expense myself. The further west the moreexpensive the car, I find. Instead, I returned to Castlebar, and on toBalla. Balla is the small town where the Land League was born. 

In the compartment to which I was consigned there were some gentlemen, for gentlemen and ladies of very great apparent respectability do travelin the cars devoted to the humbler people; there were also somerespectable looking laborers who were going over to England to look forwork. A discussion arose in our compartment as to what constitutedpoliteness. One gentleman defined it as ceremonious manners, the resultof early training; while another objected that that was only the veneerof manners, as all true politeness arose from the heart. I listenedawhile and then spoke across the seat to a decent, dejected looking manwith a little bundle beside him tied up in a blue and white checkhandkerchief. "Yes, he was going to England to look for work; many hadto go for the work was not to be had at home. " "The rents were so high, and the taxes, what with one thing and another, there was a new cutalways coming heavier than the last. " "The people are being crushed outof the country very fast, and that was God's truth. " "And you are fromAmerica? It is a fine country they say. I would be there long ago butfor the heavy care I have here that I can neither take with me nor leavebehind. " "Yes, I go over to England every year. For a good many yearspast I have always worked for the same man, ever since I went therefirst. " "It grows harder to live in Ireland every year. "

I told this man amid the craned necks and open mouths of his companions, some of the advantages of Canada as a home. I do not know why it is thatthe people know so little of Canada. I was listened to with exclamationsof "Well, well!" "Boys a boys!" "Dear O dear!" "Hear that, now! A manmight live there!"

Getting at last across the Mayo plains to Claremorris, I parted from myacquaintances with many a "God bless you, " while many hands lifted outmy travelling bags. At Claremorris a car man asked if I was a pilgrimfor Knock which was the first intimation that I had that I was in thevicinity of Knock. Hired this car man, who was also owner of the car, todrive me there. I have always heard that those born on Christmas Day areprivileged to see apparitions. I have not yet come into that part of myinheritance, but do not know how soon I may. 

On the way, which led through a well-cultivated, fertile country, wavingwith trees, and showing glimpses of great houses peeping out among them, the driver asked me if I had ever heard of Captain Boycott. I said therewere few who had not. "He used to live in that house up there; he wasagent in this part of the country, but he left us, thank God. " "Whatmade people dislike him so?" "Because he was the height of a greattyrant. " "Come now, what did he do?" "Everything he could do to oppressthe creatures who were in his power. I have known a man come home to hislittle family with three shillings for his week's wages, all the restscratched off him in fines. If you have a family yourself you willunderstand what their living would be when they paid the rent of thecabin. A man dazed with hunger would not have all his wits about him andthere would be more fines. In that way the mane hound got his work donefor half price, and ground the life out of the people. There was no wordof an emergency man to pity or help them. God help us; how true it isthat the help does not go where the want is. "

We got to Knock, a country church in a country place. Alighted, andwhile the carman tied his horse I looked round me. There was anenclosure round the chapel. At one side was a row of wooden booths, where relics, beads and trinkets were sold. On the other side of theenclosure was a school for girls. It was at the end of the church wherethe apparition is said to have appeared that we entered. All the plasteron this end was removed by devotees. In the spot where the apparitionwas said to have been seen, there was a life-size statue of the Virginin plaster. All over the gable were strips of wood cleated on, behindwhich were ranged walking-sticks and crutches in regular order till thewhole gable was covered. There was a long frame-work of wood abouttwelve feet long and three broad, also filled with crutches and walking-sticks. 

As I stood looking, the car man came in after tying his horse, and kneltdown on the damp earth before the Virgin's shrine and repeated a prayer. He was not ashamed to practice what he believed before the world and inthe sight of the sun. When his prayer was over he joined me, and drew myattention to the number of crutches and sticks left behind by those whowere benefited. I pointed out to him a very handsome black-thorn stickamong the votive offerings, and asked him would it be a sin to steal it, as black-thorns were in demand over the water. He told me if I did thatwhatever disease was laid down there by the owner of the stick wouldcleave to me. I thought of Gehazi and restrained my hands from stealingthe black-thorn. There is one nice characteristic of a genuine Irishman, he can take a joke. 

There were many masons working at an enlargement of the church. We wentin. It had an earthen floor, and there were many people kneeling on itat their prayers. Some were silently making the stations of the cross, others, a large number, were reciting the rosary aloud under theleadership of a young woman, who repeated one part, when they allanswered in concert. The windows were darkened by the scaffolding andbuilding outside, and as I sat there seeing and hearing, looking towardthe altar, in the shadow of a pillar I saw a hand steal out. I own I wasstartled; but when my eyes got accustomed to the gloom, I saw it was aman at the top of a ladder quietly painting away as if the church wereempty. 

After a while I came out and went over to the school. There were 78children present, all girls, all clean and decent. There was oneteacher, a pleasant-faced young woman, who had two monitor assistants. The order kept was very good, the school furniture neat, a good manymaps on the wall, and the children seemed busy and interested. Theteacher told me that the income of the school, owing to results fees--asum paid by Government according to the progress of the pupils, wassometimes as high as L80 per annum. 

After leaving the school, went over to the booths to buy some trifle asa memorial of Knock. The man in the booth told me I had come fromAmerica. There was another man with his arm in a sling, who had comefrom America also. He had come to visit Knock. I asked him if his armwas better. He said it was, but not entirely well. I asked the man inthe booth if he had ever seen anything. He said that he did not comethere to see anything, but to make a living. He and the American hadboth bits of the original plaster, which they showed to me. 

The priest of the place was not at home. He lives in a cottage down thehill a bit, in sight of the church. I had seen all there was to be seen, so I made my purchase and bid good-bye to Knock, and drove back toClaremorris. 

Claremorris is a nice enough little town, very quiet, as if not much ofany great work was going on. Where there are factories I notice thepeople step quickly and look straight ahead. Over towns which depend onthe trading of the country round there is an air of repose and leisure. I did not see much of Claremorris, for I soon left it behind in going toBallinrobe by car. 

The land here seems very rich. I remarked this to my travellingcompanions, who told me that I was on the rich plains of Mayo. Thefields are large and well cultivated. There were no signs of the abjectpoverty, wee, stony fields, horrible rookeries of houses that exist inthe shadow of the Ox hills. Not that the houses of the laborers herewere good; for that, a good, decent laborer's house, I have not yet seenin Ireland, except on Mr. Young's Galgorm estate. They may exist onother estates, I dare say they do, but I have not seen them. Thiscountry over which we were travelling was as rich with round-headedtrees and wide meadows as a gentleman's park. The road, a particularlymeandering one, passed through Hollymount--a lovely place--and throughCarrowmore, my companions telling me of the landlords and the tenants aswe drove along. The rent was high and hard to make up, the turf far todraw, that was all. There was no account of vexatious office rules orspecial acts of tyranny related to me at all. 

Ballinrobe, on the river Robe, is near Lough Mask, and is another quiet, pretty, leisurely little town. I was troubled with neuralgia and did notsee much of it. Opposite the hotel was the minister's residence, amidgardens, all shut in behind a stone wall high enough for a rampart. Through an archway from the street was the church where he ministered, sitting meditating among the tombs. I wandered into this place one dayon my way to the post-office. Noticed the great number of the name ofCuffe who were buried there. Cuffe is the family name of Lord Tyrawley. 

The Catholic church sits back from the street a good way and the groundbefore it is laid out in flowers. There are some images of saintsthrough the grounds, which are set in arches of rock work, over whichclimbing plants are trained. There is also a community of ChristianBrothers, who have a school here. Their building had so much glass infront, with so many geraniums in flower, a perfect blaze of them behindthe glass, that it looked like a conservatory. 

Left Ballinrobe behind and drove to Lough Mask Castle, where thecelebrated Captain Boycott managed to kick up such a fuss. We passed acouple of iron huts occupied by policemen, who came out to look at us. Imay as well mention that after I left Ballinrobe I found that the driverwas more "than three-quarters over the bay. " He had a way of talking tohimself on the land question, of Captain Boycott, Lord Mountmorris andLord Ardilaun, that was not pleasant to listen to, especially as hespiced his monologue with many words that savored strongly of brimstone. I was not without hope that the fresh air might dissipate the fumes ofliquor from his brain as we drove along. I had the more hope of this asI could see that he was a habitual drinker, poor man, as his face buttoo plainly testified. Drink is universal here, as medicine a universalremedy, as a daily, almost hourly, stimulant for young, and old, richand poor, man and woman. They tell me that Scotland is worse; if so, Scotland should be prayed for. I confess that I have not seen muchdrunkenness. I saw very few that I could call drunk, but it is constant, steady, universal, or almost so, sipping and tippling. 

XLII. 

LOUGH MASK CASTLE--CAPTAIN BOYCOTT AND HIS POLICY--LORD MOUNTMORRIS. 

Well, my Jehu did sober up considerably before we halted at theentrance gates of Lough Mask Castle. The sharp hi! hi! of the driverbrought out the gate keeper, a poor looking and sour looking woman, whoadmitted us into the drive which lay through some fields and beside someyoung plantations. In one place the driver pulled up, our way laythrough a large field divided by the road into two unequal parts. 

He told me to look round me, which I did. "On one side here, were thedragoons; their horses were picketed here; on the other side was theinfantry. It was awful weather. What them men and their horses stood ofhardships and misery no tongue could tell. The dragoons marched downhere, looking fine and bowld, their horses were sleek and fat andshining, when they marched away they wor staggering with the wakenessand the men wor purty wilted looking. He made them believe he neededprotection. " This with a growl that had depths of meaning in it. 

"He's coming back here again. Out among nagurs or anywhere else he couldnot find them to put up with him like ourselves. " Of course I omit thestrong words that were used as garnishing. I must own that this was thefirst time that any carman had used profane language before me--and itwasn't himself was in it at all at all but the whiskey. "The soldiers, whin they wor here, " continued the old man, "cut down the trees of theplantation for firing. That went to his heart, it did. How could theyhelp themselves, I'd like to know? Sure they would have perished withthe cowld and the wet among the pelting of the snow and the sleet. Wherever they are this blessed day they don't admire the memory ofCaptain Boycott. What I like is behaviour in aither man or baste, andCaptain Boycott had no behaviour. They killed a sheep to ate, or maybetwo, and sorra a blame to them. It was ate or die wid them; but ye seethe gallant Captain didn't like it. " About this time a volley ofanathemas was poured out against the absent Captain. 

During all this we were sitting on the car viewing the field where thebivouac had been. A policeman with a questioning look on a pleasant facecame along from the great house with a tin pail in his hand. "What haveyou got in the can!" asks this inquisitive car driver. "Milk, " respondedthe policeman. "You would have got no milk at the big house in CaptainBoycott's time. "

"Oh; yes, I would, " said the other, "when I paid for it. " I did not liketo question this man, for he did swear so, but I ventured to ask if Mrs. Boycott were equally as much disliked as her husband. "Never heard aword against her in my life. The people had no reason but to like her. Hard word or hard deed she left no memory of behind her. "

We drove past the residence where Captain Boycott lived, a fine spacioushouse finished in plaster to imitate stone. The grounds near the housewere nicely laid out, but that is the universal rule in Ireland. Drovethrough a gateway into the yard. In a stable loft in the yard somepolicemen were lodged. The driver hallooed at them, and one came downthe stone steps to see what protective duty was asked of him. I askedhim to show me the ruins, and he complied in the kindest manner. Acrossthe barnyard and through a shed we made our way into the castle ruins. There are many nooks and crannies, as is the case in these ancient ruinsgenerally, but the main body of the castle was divided into two largeapartments, with the roof on the floor of course. I noticed the track ofrecent fire along the old walls. He said it was made by the officers whowere down there on protective service for Capt. Boycott. They had oneapartment and cooked there, and the police the other. These quartersopen to the sky, and having stones on the floor, did not lookcomfortable. 

We went up the circular stairs to the ramparts at the top. There is awalk round the top behind the battlements. Looking down at the remainsof a fireplace in what was a lofty second story, my guide told me therewas a name and a date there. The name Fitzgerald, I forget the date; sothis must have been one of the Geraldine castles. 

There is a fine view from the battlements. Lough Mask, which is veryshallow here, a little water and a great many stones overtopping it inprofusion, lies before us, and an extensive country, partly fertile, inround hills and green valleys, partly crusted over with stones. 

A policeman, not my guide on this occasion, told me, illustrative of thedisposition of Captain Boycott, that the hut in which the police weresheltered was very damp--water, in fact, was running on the floor undertheir bed. They had a small coal stove, and on the coal becomingexhausted before they got a further supply, one of the men being downsick, they ventured to ask Captain Boycott for the loan of a lump or twoof coal to keep their stove going till their supplies were received, andhe refused them. They were obliged to protect his ass and water cartdown into the lake to draw water from out beyond the edge where thewater was deep, and, therefore, could be dipped up clean. He would notallow them to get any of the water for their own use after it was drawn, or lend them the ass to draw for themselves. They had either to wade outin the lake or dip up as they could at the edge. I made a slight mistakein saying that the castle was entirely roofless; there was part of anarched roof where the fire had been. I asked the policeman if they hadany night patrol duty now. Oh, yes, he said, we patrol every night, although we never see anything worse than ourselves. 

Left Lough Mask, its castled ruins and modern mansion behind us, anddrove through the gates again. I felt convinced that the people were notfilled with an unreasoning hate against Captain Boycott. They thoughtthey had reason, deep reason, and they scrupulously excepted Mrs. Boycott from any censure bestowed on him. 

Along the road we drove, until from an eminence we could see Lough Maskin its beauty, with its bays and islands spread out beneath us. Thisview gave us a part of the Lough where the water covers the stones. Thisparticular evening the water was as calm as a mirror and as blue as thesky above it, and the trees on the hills and bays around it in theirgreenness and leafiness, round-headed and massive, were all bathed insunlight. We came to fields a little more barren-looking, where barestone fences took the place of the rich hedgerows, turned up a road thatlay between these stony ramparts, and drove along for a little time. 

I was wondering in my own mind about Captain Boycott. Did he, in his ownconsciousness, think he was doing right in his system of fines? He knewhow small and miserable the wages were: he knew of the poor, comfortlesshomes and the "smidrie o' wee duddy weans" that depended on the poorpennies the father brought home; he knew that he came out well fed andleisurely to find fault with a peasant who was working with a sense ofgoneness about the stomach. Did he think that increasing the hunger painwould make him more thoughtful, more orderly? Would he have done betterif he had been suddenly brought to change places with his serf? If hecould not help fining the people until he fined off the most of theirwages, were they to blame for refusing to work for him? Was theGovernment right in taking his part when it had neither eye nor ear forhis people's complaint? I was questioning with myself in this helplessfashion, when I heard my driver inquire in Irish of a bare-footedcountry girl if we were near the spot where Lord Mountmorris wasmurdered. 

This question, and the surprise with which I became aware that Iunderstood it, made me forget Captain Boycott for the time being andwake up to the present time. We had stopped our car and were waiting onthe girl's answer, which she seemed in no hurry to give. At lengthlifting a small stone she threw it on the road a car's length behind us, answering in Irish that there was the spot where he was found. Themurderer was hidden in the field opposite. The road was bare of theshelter of hedge or ditch, bush or tree. It was late; he was coming homealone, his police escort for some reason were not with him thatparticular night. Lord Mountmorris was murdered, and some one has a markon his hand that all the water of the Lough will not wash off. 

We drove along the road, a bleak and bare road, with a hill on one sideof it and a steep slope down on the other, until we came to a smallplantation, a lodge gate, and drove up an avenue with small plantationsof young trees here and there, some grass lands, a few beasts grazingabout, some signs of where flower beds and flower borders had beenbetter cared for once on a time than now, and came to a comfortable, roomy square house finished in plaster. This was castle something, theresidence of the late Lord Mountmorris. With a blessing, content andthree hundred a year one could fancy that person sung of by Moore, "Withthe heart that is humble, " being able to make out life nicely here. Whena man has a title to his name with all the requirements which it impliesand demands, one could imagine a constant and wearing struggle going on. 

I have earnestly and constantly sought to find a reason that couldpossibly irritate an ignorant and exasperated peasant to the point oftaking the life of this man, I have found none. He was unhappilyaddicted to drink, it is said, but he must have had a large majority ofthe inhabitants of Ireland of all creeds and classes on the same sidewith him in this, to judge by the number of houses licensed to sellliquor to be drunk on the premises which are required for the drouthypart of the population. He is accused of having warped justice to favorhis friends in his capacity of magistrate. I have heard that accusationbrought against other magistrates again and again, who were notmolested. He is said to have boasted when _fou_ that he was a spyfor the castle authorities, and could have any of them he chose to pointat taken up. This was mere bluster, I suppose. There does seem no reasonwhy the poor man should be cut off in the midst of his days by a guiltyhand, for there is no record of any tangible injury which he had done toany man. Here on the spot where he fell, among the common people, I didnot hear anything that seemed to give a reason for any hatred that wouldlead to murder being entertained against the deceased nobleman. 

We turned away from the house and grounds, and I felt sad enough when wepassed the place where he lay in the dark night amid bare, barrenloneliness until the alarm was given. Heath in full blossom of purpleclung to the ditch back, foxglove in stately array nodded at us fromabove, flowers that creep and flowers that wave were springingeverywhere, the rains of heaven had washed off the red stain, but Icould not shut my eyes to it. I saw the human body, dignified intosomething awful by the presence of death, lying there waiting for thehands that were to take it up reverently, and bear it away forinvestigation and burial. I saw the dyed stones of the road that willnever lose the mark of guilt that colored them with the blood shedthere. 

Lord Mountmorris' residence was a nice, roomy house. All these housesare called castles, and castles they are compared with the cabins. Theland around it did not seem very good. There was something pathetic inthe evident attempt to keep up lordly state on a poor income and offpoor soil. Happy America, whose people are not compelled by theinexorable logic of circumstances to be lords, but can be plain farmers. It is really a hard thing to be a lord sometimes, when a place is sunkwith mortgages, and burdened with legacies and annuities, and no meansof redemption but the rents and these stopped. 

We drove back the way we came. Ascending the hill we met a little beast, so small, so black and shaggy, that I thought at first it was one of ourCanadian black bears. I asked what it was, and--laughing at myignorance--the man told me that it was a Highland Kyloe, one of thefamous black cattle that I have heard so much about, but had never seena specimen of the breed before. It would have been big for a bear, butcertainly was small for a cow, while a goat has the appearance of givingas much milk. 

XLIII. 

CONG

The land as we neared Cong, between Cong and Lough Mask, as seen fromthe rather roundabout road we travelled, has a very peculiar appearance. It is stony with a very different stoniness from any part of Irelandwhich I had seen before. In some places the earth, as far as the eyecould reach, was literally crusted with stone. The stone was worn intorounded tops and channelled hollows, as if it was once molten, like redhot potash, and every bubbling swell had become suddenly petrified, oras if it had once been an uptilted hillside over which a rapid river hadfallen, wearing little hollows, and sparing rounded heights as it dashedover in boiling fury for ages, accomplishing which result it desertedthis channel; and through some internal movement the bed of the torrentwas levelled into a plain. Some agency or other has worn this solid rockinto a truffle pattern that is very wonderful to see. Over all this partthe stony formation recurs again and again. A person remarked to me thatit looked like the bottom of a former ocean. Judging by the marks worninto the stone I should say it was not a pacific ocean. 

We came to a blacksmith's shop with the arch of the door formed into aperfect horse-shoe; this, I was told, was the boundary line between Mayoand Galway. In a few minutes we stopped before the "Carlisle Arms, " inthe little village of Cong. Cong village is not very large, and has nota wealthy appearance. There is a look generally spread over the peoplewho come in to trade as if their fortune was as stoney as their fields. 

I had not been long in the "Carlisle Arms" before my attention wascalled to certain framed mementos that hung round the room. By some ofthese mementos hung the tale as to how Cong hotel came to be named the"Carlisle Arms. " On a certain occasion, when the then Lord Lieutenant ofIreland, the Earl of Carlisle, was making some sort of progress throughIreland, he proposed stopping at the hotel at Maam, a hotel under thethumb of the late Lord Leitrim, who had some pique at the LordLieutenant, which determined him to order under pain of the usualpenalty that there be no admittance to the Viceroy of Ireland at thishotel. His Lordship for once felt the power of a text of Scripture, andsent orders that from the highways and hedges they should be compelledto come in; that his house should be filled to the entire exclusion ofHer Majesty's representative. Lord Carlisle did not, like Mr. Goddardthe other day at Charleville, proffer money, or take any steps to trythe lawfulness or unlawfulness of this proceeding, but, having sent acourier to precede him, hurried on to Cong, and conferred thedistinction of his presence on that hotel. That the proprietors didtheir best to entertain him I have no doubt, speaking from experience. That he appreciated their efforts he has left on record in a neatacknowledgement, which hangs above the mantlepiece framed and glazed, asUncle Tom desired to do with his letter from Massa George. The LordLieutenant's photo hangs there too, in a nice frame, as a memento of hishaving been received at Cong when refused at Maam. Also he consentedthat the hotel should be known as the "Carlisle Arms" henceforth. Iwonder very much that there was not at least as much public indignationfelt against Lord Leitrim or the innkeeper whom he influenced when herefused shelter to Her Majesty's representative here, the head of theexecutive, as is now expressed against this hotel-keeper, who refused toreceive Mr. Goddard. I suppose the cases are different someway. 

During the famine time a large sum of money was voted, partly byGovernment, partly from the county taxes, for Relief Works. It wasdetermined to make a canal to connect Lough Corrib and Lough Mask. Thecanal was made at the expense of much blasting, much building of strongand costly stone work. If they could only have resurrected the famousIrish architect _Gobhan Saer_, he would have advised making a well-cemented bottom for the canal considering that a subterraneous riverruns from one lake to the other under it. They did not do this, however, and when the grand canal was finished and the water let on the bottomfell out in places and the waters fell through to their kindred waters. The next famine they will require to dig and blast downward and stilldownward till they find the underground river and the runaway water. Coming past the costly and well-built bridge which spans the almost drystream that pours into the leaky canal somewhere, I saw some women rounda hollow in the stream that retained a little water. They were rinsingout some woollen stuffs after dying them blue. They had warm petticoatsof madder red, and I was glad to see them look so comfortably clad andthrifty. 

After returning to the hotel I was waited on by an elderly lady of thepeasant class, a woman over eighty years of age. She had for sale somepillow lace edging of her own manufacture, which she offered atthreepence per yard. This was the way she made her living, paid her rentand kept herself out of the workhouse. The lace was pretty and verystrong. She generally succeeds in disposing of it to lady tourists. 

There were some lady tourists as well as gentlemen staying at Cong. Theywere on pleasure bent, and had been dreadfully annoyed and disgusted inGalway at the heartbreaking scene attending the departure of some poorIrish emigrants. They are unreasonable in their grief, and take partingas if it were death; but it is as death to many of the aged relativeswho will see these faces whom they love no more. I could not helpthinking how differently people are constituted. When I saw thestreaming eyes, the faces swollen with weeping, and heard the agonizedexclamations, the calls upon God for help to bear the parting, for ablessing on the departing, I had to weep with them. These people wereall indignation where they were not amused. The old women's cries wereill-bred howlings to their ears, their grief a thing to laugh at. Theymade fun of their dress--how they were got up--as if their dress was amatter of choice; grew indignant in describing their disgust at thescene. Ah, well, these poor mountain peasants were not their neighbors, they were people to be looked at, laughed at, sneered at, and passed byon the other side; but I--these people are my people and their sorrowmoveth me. 

XLIV. 

THE ASHFORD DEMESNE--LORD ARDILAUN--LOUGH CORRIB. 

The Ashford demesne affords walks or drives for miles. Everything thatwoods and waters, nature and art can do to make Ashford delightful hasbeen done. I got a companion, a pretty girl, a permit from some officialwho lived in a cottage at Cong, and set out by way of the Pigeon Hole tosee at least part of the place. 

I may as well mention here how surprised we were to hear the Antrimtongue from the recesses of the cave, and to find a group of strangersexploring on their own account. They were working men who had come fromBelfast to work for Lord Ardilaun, and were making the most of a holidaybefore they began. I was very much surprised to see men from Antrim, where the wages are much higher than here, come down to work in the westwhere labor is so cheap, and want of work the complaint. 

To show how cheaply men work here, I may mention that being at a villagewhich lies outside of Lord Ardilaun's demesne, but on his estate, I wasstanding on the road and a clergyman was talking in Irish to a man whowas employed at mason work in repairing the wall, a small quiet lookingman who did not stop work as he talked. Of course I could not understandmore than the scope of their discourse, but I understood distinctly onequestion asked; "How much do you get for a day's work?" "One shillingand two pence a day. " "Without food of course?" "Of course. " I hadheard in the North that casual laborers get two shillings a day there, but they do not get two shillings when employed constantly. The laborerson one well-managed estate which I have been over in Antrim are paid tenshillings a week, and pay one shilling a week out of that for theircottages, which are kept in good repair at the expense of theiremployer. Of course these men must have been workmen skilled in someparticular work, or they would not have come from the wages of the Northto the West to work at the common rate of wage going here, which I amtold is at the highest seven shillings a week and rent to pay out ofthat. Of course, when masons are paid one and twopence, laborers will bepaid much less. 

The avenue along which we travelled was a causeway made at great expensealong the brow of a steep hill or rather ridge, one side being supportedby a stone wall. This work, undertaken for the benefit of travellers toAshford, must have afforded constant employment for a good many men fora long time. Arriving at a modern archway in the ancient style protectedby an iron gate, we sought admittance, showing our permit from theoffice. The keeper's wife examined it and passed it over to the keeper, who examined it also, asked some prudent, cautious questions, and wewere admitted to a part of the grounds. 

This gate keeper, a remarkably gentlemanly old man, in his respectableblue broadcloth, his comely sagacious, weather-beaten face, his guardedmanner of speaking, and his name, Grant, made me quite sure that he wasa Highlandman, which he was not, but a Western Irishman. He informed usas we went along that only part of the grounds could be seen on accountof the troubled state of the country. Whether there was any part of thedemesne that an elderly woman and a pretty girl were likely to run awaywith became a subject of thought to me. Conscientiously this delightfulold man kept us off tabooed walks and shunted us into permissibleplaces. Where all was beautiful and new, and time having a limit, wewere quite willing when brought to order, to follow on the allowed path. 

I was admiring a tree of the regally magnificent kind, leaf-drapedbranches like green robes sweeping down to the emerald sward, thatalways remind me of the glorious trees which sunlight loves to gild inthe grounds at Castle Coole; I remarked on its exceeding beauty to ourguide, who said it would bear a nearer view, and we followed him on apath through the grass till we stood beside it. Parting the foliage wefound ourselves at a natural grotto of light-colored stone, where astream of "the purest of crystal" came from under the rock at one end, and glancing in the stray beams of sunlight that found their way inthrough the arch of leaves, flashed down a tiny cascade in a shower ofdiamonds, and with a little gurgling laugh hid under the rock again, racing on to join the subterranean waters that laugh together over thefailure of the great canal. 

The new tower is built after the fashion of the ancient towers with thespiral staircase, that was common to all castles and abbeys of the west. The mason work was much coarser and more roughly done, but the imitationof the ancient tower was very good other ways. I do not believe thatmodern masons could produce so perfect a specimen of workmanship as thetower of Moyne Abbey, with its spiral staircase of black marble. Theview from the top of the tower at Ashford repaid well the expenditure ofbreath to climb up to it. 

The house is a castle and made after the pattern of ancient castles; itis large and must contain any amount of lofty and spacious rooms, whichit is to be supposed are furnished as luxuriously and magnificently aspossible. It is certainly a very fine building, and looks as nice andnew as stone and mortar can make it, but the ivy green will soon coverit all up with its green mantle. We were not able to walk over even theallowed portion of the grounds, as they extended for miles. We partedfrom our gentlemanly conductor at a certain gate. He was so nice that wefelt almost ashamed to offer the expected gratuity which was, however, thankfully received. 

I pondered a little way over the man's remarks who had been our guidethrough the demesne. He always kept repeating that we might have beenshown the gardens and the house, but for the disturbance in the country. I wondered to hear hints of trouble on this estate, for no man, woman orchild, with whom I conversed, but spoke highly of the generosity, magnanimity and kindliness of Lord Ardilaun, and his father before him. I have seen in his lordship's own writing and over his signature thestatement that, during prosperous years, even, the rent has not beenraised, that he had for years spent on his property more than double therental in improvements and for labor. When I read this I thought of thecauseway raised along the brow of a hill over which I walked in thedemesne, I thought at the time what an amount of labor was expended toplace it there. There has also been made an addition to the castle, which must have given a great deal of employment. Some, or rather agreat deal of the property was bought from the late Earl of Leitrim, whohad raised the rents, it is asserted, to the "highest top sparkle"before selling, to enhance the value. 

I do not know anything of the value of land here; it is very stony land. I was pointed out a field which was not very stony, comparativelyspeaking, but still had more stones, or stony crust rather, than a goodfarmer would desire. I was told it paid L2 per acre. I wonder how it ispossible to raise rent and taxes off these fields, never to mentionsupport for the farmers. The land requires very stimulating manure toproduce a crop. When bad years come, and render the tenant farmersunable to purchase guano, the crops are worthless almost. The necessityof buying artificial manure is a terrible necessity that Americanfarmers know nothing of. 

I dare say the tenants expect too much in many instances, for they areaccustomed to be treated as children in leading strings. The amount ofdependence on this one and that one in superior stations is verywonderful, but their utter helplessness to take the first step towardbetter times is also wonderful. I have heard of men, by the last badseasons unable to buy guano, having to strip the roofs off their housesthat the rain may wash off the soot into the land to fructify it. Onaccount of shelter for game, it is not permissible to cut heather forbedding, for stock, or covering for houses. Breaking this prohibitioneven on land for which they pay rent and taxes is, they complain, punished with fines of from two and sixpence to seven and sixpence foras much as could be carried on the back. 

For a farmer to get on here he must be able to buy manure. The crop on afarm has to pay rent, which is high, and taxes, which are heavy, even ifno guard for somebody has to be paid for, or no malicious outrage islevied for on the county in compensation, and manure, which, if gotbefore paying, is charged, I am told, twenty-five percent additional forwaiting; all this must be met before the support of the family can bethought of beyond merely existing. The more one looks at the want of thepeople, the more one becomes bewildered with the perplexities of thesituation, and the more hopeless about the setting of things right bythe Land Bill or anything else. 

It is pleasant to hear on all sides praises of Lord Ardilaun as a high-spirited, generous man. The slight difference of opinion between him andhis people is blamed on the fact of his not being able to understand howpoor the tenants are, or how what is little in his eyes may be life ordeath to them. There was some trouble, I believe, about the building ofa causeway across to some sacred island, which was built by the peoplewithout leave asked, or in spite of prohibition given; but in the main Ithink that Lord Ardilaun is very much loved. 

How it does rain in this green land. I think it rained every day of thedays I remained at Cong except the blink of sunshine that shone on thecastle and grounds the day that I went over part of the Ashford_demesne_. 

At Cong, for the first time in my life, I heard the Irish lament orcaoine for the dead. Some one was brought in from the country to beburied in the Abbey of Cong. It was a simple country funeral. The deadwas borne on one of the carts of the country, followed by the neighbors, and accompanied by the parish priest of Cong. The day was very wet evenfor Ireland. After the burial service was over the women, kneeling bythe new made grave, among the rank wet grass, and the dripping ivy, raised the caoine. It was a most unearthly sound, sweet like singing, sad like crying, rising up among the ruined towers, and clinging ivy andfloating up heavenwards. I believe the stories of banshees must havearisen from the sound of the caoine. These mourning women were veryskilful, I was told, and were relations of the dead whom they mourned, and whose good qualities mingled with their love and grief rose inwailing cry and floated weirdly over the ruins and up to the clouds. 

I had at this time an invitation from Mr. Sydney Bellingham to come overto Castle Bellingham to see life from another standpoint. I was standingat the window debating with myself. I did not like to leave the Westbefore seeing a little more of it, and I do want, in the interests oftruth, to look at things from every available standpoint. If I go toCastle Bellingham I must go now, I reasoned, for after this they go toEngland. As I stood there thinking, a handsome car dashed past with agentleman and lady on it, followed by another with a guard of policemen. I enquired who this guarded gentleman was, and was told it was that Mr. Bourke who went into the Catholic church armed to the teeth. 

I have been nearly five months in Ireland, travelling about almostconstantly, and as yet have only seen three persons who were protectedby police, two men and one woman. I decided to leave Cong, and afterstudying on the map the nearest way to Castle Bellingham, determined totake that way. 

Left Cong in the early morning to sail down Lough Corrib to Galway. Forsome reason the landing place has been altered, and is now some distancefrom Cong, at which it used to be. This change is a drawback to Cong. There are mills at Cong that used to grind indian corn, but they are notused now for some reason or other, and are falling into ruin. Theshifting of the landing place was done by Lord Ardilaun, the stoppage ofthe mills by him also. The landing place where the little steamer waitedfor freight and passengers had a little crowd, who seemed to have moreto do than just to look on, and there was a little hum of traffic thatsounded cheerful. 

It was a very windy day; Lough Corrib's waves had white caps on. The suncame out fitfully, and the clouds swept great shadows over the mountainsides. There were patches of green oats bathed in sunshine, andplantations of larch and fir standing close and locked in shadow. Thewind was so strong that the little steamer seemed to plough her way witha bobbing motion like the coots on Lough Gill. We had a fine view fromthe lake of Ashford _demesne_, and the castle looking still granderand newer in the distance, all its towers and pinnacles bathed in thecold sunshine. 

There are many islands in Lough Corrib besides the islands that thepriest and people of Clonbur built the causeway to. It is strange thattwo lords take their titles from islands in this lake, Lord Inchiquinand Lord Ardilaun. Some of the peasantry felt hurt because Lord Ardilauntook his title from an island instead of from some part of the mainland. I was pointed out in the distance from the lake, Moytura house, the homeof Sir William Wilde; it stands where was fought the battle of Moyturain ancient times. 

From the steamer we saw the ruined fortress, Annabreen Castle, said tobe six hundred years old. The masonry is very curious, being all donewithin and without, quoins, doorways, window frames, of undressed stone, and yet most admirably done. 

I stood on the deck of the little steamer while the wind blew in theteeth of the little boat and made her shiver and rock, and I enduredsharp neuralgiac pain, and lost my veil, which was blown off and wentsailing off into the lake because I would not miss seeing all LoughCorrib had to show. I saw the ivy plaided walls of Caislean naCailliach, and on a little island the remains of an old uncemented stonefort, so old that antiquity has forgotten it. The scenery was verygrand, the islands grassy and round, or waving with trees, the lakecovered with white horses riding with tossing manes to the shore; thelittle boat with its broad breast holding its own against the swells, the shores with green mountains checked off into fields, with highermountains blue in the distance rising behind them. All under

 "The skies of dear Erin, our mother Where sunshine and shadow are chasing each other. "

The little steamer steamed up to the wharf and backed and stopped, inmost American fashion, at a lonely backwoods-looking wharf, but thepillars for the snubbing rope were pillars of stone, and near were theruins of a tall square castle in good preservation. There are also thewalls of the bishop's residence here, with the bells of St. Brendan;they told me this was the saint who discovered the happy land flowingwith milk and honey, the key to which lies hidden in Cuneen Miaul's tomband the ruins of an extensive abbey, a monastery and a nunnery and otherbuildings. 

Truly the banks and islands of Lough Corrib are made classic by ruins. They say the carved mouldings and stone work on these ruins areconsidered the most beautiful and most perfect in Ireland. We passed, farther on, the ruins of Armaghdown, the castle fort of the bog. Afterthis the land got low and flat, and we saw Menlough Castle, where abaronet of the name of Blake resides, when he's at home. It is countedthe most beautiful of all the ancient castles which are still inhabited. All I can say is, it looked well from the lake. Lough Corrib iscalculated to cover 44, 000 acres, and is well supplied with fish. 

XLV. 

THE EASTERN COAST--THE LAND QUESTION FROM A LANDLORD'S STANDPOINT. 

Went through Galway to the station as fast as a jaunting car could takeme, and took the train for Dublin. 

Crossing Ireland thus from Galway to Dublin, I noticed that the land gotto be more uniformly fertile as we neared the eastern coast. From Dublinthe road ran down the coast, in sight of the sea for most part. Throughcounties Dublin, Meath and Louth, the land looked like the garden ofEden. It was all like one demesne heavy with trees, interspersed withlarge fields having rich crops and great meadows waving with grass; thecultivation, so weedless, so regular, every ridge and furrow as straightas a rule could make it, every corner cultivated most scrupulously. Itwas a great pleasure to look at the farms. Truly this is a rich andfertile land. And yet in no place which I have seen so far have Inoticed any laborers' cottages, fit to live in, except on a few placesin Antrim. 

This east coast was beautiful exceedingly, and yet I saw on this goodland mud huts which were not fit to be kennels for dogs inhabited byhuman beings. I heard a shilling a week spoken of as rent for theseabominable pigsties, collected every Saturday night. Twenty-five centslooks small, but it is taken out of a small wage. The country railwaystations are very nice to look at. 

Arrived at Castle Bellingham, received a very kindly welcome indeed. Felt inclined to snuggle down into enjoyment here, to the neglect of mywork. The country is so fertile, so beautiful, the large fields wavingwith luxuriant crops. The roses are in bloom climbing over the fronts ofthe houses, clinging round the second-story windows and on to the roof. It is a feast to look at them, hanging their heads heavy with beauty inclusters of three, creamy-white or red of every shade, from the faintestpink to the velvet leaf of deepest crimson. I suppose that they flourishbest amid frequent rains, for this has been a remarkably rainy season, and the wealth of roses is wonderful to see, the air is sweet with theirbreath. 

South Gate House, Castle Bellingham, is one of the houses that temptsone to the breach of the tenth commandment. I have stood in the frontgarden and looked at it trying to learn it off by heart. It is drapedwith a wonderful variety of roses climbing over it, wreathing round it, heavy with bloom. Every inch of land in the front garden is utilizedwith the taste that creates beauty. Inside the house is a constantsurprise; the comfort and cosiness, the space to be comfortable in, roomafter room appearing as a new revelation, made it appear a verydesirable residence to me. 

At the end of the house, from the conservatory, can be seen the treeunder which His Majesty, of glorious, pious and immortal memory, eat hisluncheon on his way to fight for a kingdom at the Boyne. The Bellinghamswere an old family then. Some say proudly, "We came over with good KingWilliam. " Others can say, "He found us here when he came. "

The evening after my arrival was taken up looking at the house, lookingat the grounds, wondering over the ferns and flowers, and deciding thatit was rather nice to be an Irish country gentleman. The next morningfound me through the gardens wondering over the abundance of fruit andthe perfect management that made the most of every corner. 

Mr. Bellingham drove me over to Dunany Castle, where Sir AllanBellingham resides at present. The road lay through the usual beautifulcountry that spreads along this east coast, plantations of fine trees, large fields of grain, great meadows and bean fields that perfumed theair. We passed a large mill; I took particular notice of it, becausemills do not often occur as a feature in the landscape on the westerncoast. There were mills at Westport belonging to the Messrs. Livingstone, but they were not as obtrusive as American mills are. Onebecame aware of them by the prosperity they created. In Cong, the cornmill standing idle and falling to ruin, was the last mill which I hadobserved. This was one reason of my noticing this mill, which was busilyworking. 

When we came where the road lay along the shore, Mr. Bellingham stoppedthe carriage that I might see the salmon fishers hauling in their nets. This salmon fishery is very valuable. In 1845 the right to fish here waspaid for at the rate of L10 per annum; in 1881 the right to fish bringsL130. Still, I am told, the man who has the fishing makes a great deal. The fish are exported. This salmon fishery belongs to Sir AllanBellingham. It was a strange sight to me to see so many men and boyswalking unconcernedly waist deep in the sea. I wondered over the numberof men and boys which were required to haul in one net. Truly, fishingis a laborious business, but still, how pleasant to see the busy fisherfolk, and to know that work brings meat. I remembered the silent waterson long stretches of the western shores. I remembered the rejoicing atDromore west, over the Canadian given boats. God bless, and prosper, andmultiply the fisher folk. In from the sea, through the pleasant land, wedrove a little farther into the solemn woods that surround DunanyCastle. As we neared the castle the woods became broken into a lawn andpleasure ground, and at a sudden turn we found ourselves before thecastle. I am not yet tired of looking at castles, whether in ruins, asrelics of the past, or inhabited as the "stately houses where thewealthy people dwell. "

Dunany, with its court-yard, where wines, climbing roses and Virginiacreepers grew luxuriantly over the battlemented walls, reminded me ofdescriptions I had read of Moorish houses in sunny Spain. Every househas a history, and it is no wonder if these great houses tell a story ofother times and other scenes that has a powerful influence on the mindsof the descendants of those who founded these houses and carved outthese fortunes. There were little children playing before the castle, happy and free, that ran to meet their uncle. 

We were received by Sir Thomas Butler, Sir Allan's son-in-law, whom Ihad met with before on the evening of my arrival at Castle Bellingham. My errand to Dunany Castle was, strictly speaking, to gather theopinions of these gentlemen on the land question, but the quaint, foreign look of the castle, and the historic names of Butler andBellingham, sent my mind off into the past, to the battle of the Boyne, and into the dimness beyond, when the war cry of "A Butler" was arallying cry that had power in the green vales of Erin. 

In the cold Celtic times when men held by the strong hand, the numericalfighting power of the clan was of the utmost importance, a chieftainbeing valued by the number of men who would follow him to the field. Asa consequence, men were precious. In these more peaceful times, when thelords of the soil are rated by their many acres, lands, and not likelylads, are the symbol of greatness. 

Sir Allan Bellingham is such a fresh-looking active gentleman that Icould hardly bring myself to think that he had reached, by reason ofstrength, the scriptural fourscore. I was almost too much taken upadmiring to think of the Land Question, but, after the fashionable fiveo'clock tea, had some conversation with Sir Allan and Sir Thomas on thesubject. 

Sir Allan thought the Land League much to blame for the presentmiserable state of affairs. Men well able to pay their rents, andsupposed to be willing to pay their rents, were prevented from payingfrom a system of terrorism inaugurated by the Land League. Someinstances were given. One was of the man who had the mill which wepassed on the road, who being behind in his rent, was willing to pay butdare not do it. Certainly by the busy appearance of the mill and by thestyle of his dwelling-house it did not seem to be inability that kepthim from paying. Another instance was that of a man holding a largefarm, on which he had erected a fine house, which I saw in passing, avery nice residence indeed, with plate glass windows, and carpetedthroughout with Brussels carpets, I am told. The large fields werewaving with a fine crop; there were some grand fields of wheat, thestack yard had many stacks of last year's grain and hay. This man hadgiven his son lately L2500 to settle himself on a farm. It certainlywould not be poverty that prevented him paying his rent, for there wasevery evidence of wealth around him. I heard of men, who, having paidtheir rent, could not get their horses shod at the blacksmith's shop. For breaking the rules of the Land League they were set apart from theirfellows. 

I can well imagine that serious embarrassments must arise to landlordswhen their rents, their only income, are kept back from them. How Iwould rejoice to know that landlord and tenant were reconciled oncemore, that lordship and leadership were united in one person. 

Sir Thomas Butler informed me that, "when a landlord dies and his sonsucceeds him the Government do not charge him succession duty on hisrental but on Griffith's (or the Poor Law) valuation of his estate, plus30 per cent. If his estate is rented at only 10 per cent over thevaluation, he has to pay Government all the same, and is consequentlyover charged 20 per cent because in the opinion of the Governmentauthorities, the fair letting value of land is from 25 to 30 per centover Griffiths valuation, and they charge accordingly. " (I suppose it isfounded upon this law of succession duty that when a tenant dies thewidow has the rent raised upon her. ) "Under the Bright clauses of theLand Act of 1870 the Government is authorized to advance to the tenanttwo-thirds of the purchase money for his holding. At first the Treasuryfixed 24 years' purchase of the valuation as the scale they would adopt, and under that they lent 16 years' purchase to the tenant, who at onceremonstrated that their interest was a great deal more. After numerousenquiries, &c. , the treasury changed the 24 years into 30 years, andconsequently let the tenants 20 years value of their valuation, theyfinding the other ten years, clearly showing that in the opinion of thetenants themselves and the Government land was worth 30 years' purchaseof its valuation. What is the proposal now by the tenants and agitators?That they should clearly only pay at the rate of Griffith's valuation, which, a few years ago, they themselves asserted was fifty percent belowthe selling value, and which valuation was taken when wheat, oats, barley, butter, beef, mutton and pork were much below the present value. Landlords have not raised their rents in proportion. My own estate in1843 had 116 tenants, in 1880 it had 105 tenants on 5, 760 statute acres. The difference in the rent paid in 1880 over that paid in 1843 is L270, barely six percent on the whole rental, which is almost 16 percent overvaluation. Over L2, 000 was forgiven in the bad years after potatofamine, and over L1, 000 has been lost by nonpaying tenants, and aconsiderable sum has been expended in improvements without charging thetenant interest; in some cases the cost has been divided betweenlandlord and tenant. It is a very common practice in Ireland to fix arent for a tenant and to reduce that rent on the tenant executingcertain improvements. No improving tenant, or one who pays his rent, isever disturbed in possession of his farm--it is only the insolvent onethat is put out, and by the time the landlord can obtain possession ofthe farm it is always in a most delapidated condition. An ejectment fornon-payment of rent cannot be brought till a clear year's rent is due, and usually the tenant owes more before it is brought, and he has alwaysfrom date of decree to redeem the farm by paying what is due on thedecree with costs. The landlord has, in case of redemption by thetenant, to account for the profits he has made out of the land duringthe six months. When dilapidation and waste have taken place nocompensation for the loss can be obtained by the landlord from the thetenant. In cases of leases, the landlord finds it quite impossible toenforce the covenants for good tillage and preservation of fences, buildings, &c. Poor rates, sanitary, medical charities, electionexpenses, cattle diseases and sundry other charges are paid by the poorrate, which is levied on the valuation of house or farm property, consequently the funded property-holder, banks, commercialestablishments pay far less in proportion to business done than thelandholder, who cannot make as much out of a L50 holding as a banker orpublican ought to do out of a house valued at L50. The present agitationagainst rents is political, and the rent question has been broughtprominently forward by the leaders with the view of getting the farmerson their side as the great voting power. It would have been quiteuseless their endeavoring to enlist the farmers without promising themsomething to their own advantage; but the interest in the land is only aveil under which the advances for total separation from England can bemade, and will be thrown aside when no further use can be made of it. "

These are Sir Thomas Butler's sentiments and opinions. His opinions, formed from his standpoint, are worthy of consideration. With alingering look at bonnie Dunany, we bade adieu to Lady Butler and thetwo baronets, and were driven back to South Gate over another and moreinland road. 

XLVI. 

THE EAST AND THE WEST--LANDLORDS AND LANDLORDS. 

For good and sufficient reasons the railway carriage whisked throughthe rich country, carrying me from Castle Bellingham to Rath Cottage bythe Moat of Dunfane. There is one beautiful difference between the Northand the West; the North is full of people, the hill sides are dottedthickly with white dwellings--so much for the Ulster Custom. It pleasesthe people to tell them that the superior prosperity of their northernfields is due to their religious faith. Some parts of Lord MountCashel's estate, when sold in the Encumbered Estates Court, did not passinto hands governed by the same opinions as to the rights and dutieswhich property confers as are held by Mr. Young, of Galgorm Castle. Their tenants complain of rack rents as bitterly as if they lived in thewest. They are looking eagerly to the new law for redress. In fact whenthey find their tenant-right eaten up by a vast increase of rent theyconsider their faith powerless in the face of their landlord's works. 

I do not think any one can pass through this country without noticing avast difference which is not a religious difference, between oneproperty as to management and another, between one part of the countryand another. In some parts the tenants build the houses, whatever sortof houses they are able to build; they repair them as they are able, andthe landlords get the rent of them. If by any means they can improvethem, the landlord improves the rent to a higher figure. 

I was over one property in the County Antrim, the property of a man whocombines landholding as a middleman, with trade in linen fabrics andmanufacturing or bleaching, or both. I cannot say that this gentleman isexcessively popular, but he is exceedingly prosperous. His privateresidence, as far as taste goes, a taste that can be gratifiedregardless of expense, is as perfectly beautiful within its limits asthe property of any lord of the soil which I have come across. Indeed, the arrangements made at such cost, kept up to such perfection, spoke ofone who owed his income to trade and not to his land alone. His hot-houses, heavy with grapes, rich with peaches and nectarines, andfragrant with rare flowers, were verily on a lordly scale. It was histenement houses that attracted my attention chiefly. They were well-roofed, slated in almost every instance; not a roof was broken that heowned. The cottages were rough cast and washed over with drab; they werecovered with roses that were in as rich bloom as if they were bloomingfor gentry. Truly the tenants planted them, but a tenant who plantsroses is not living in a state of desperation as to the means ofexistence. When he sent men to wash over the tenement houses, and thegood wives trembled for the roses. "The gardener shall come and arrangethem again and see that they are not harmed in the least, " he said. 

They tell me that this gentleman, being a trader with a commercial mind, takes for his tenements the utmost they will bring. If so, when hebuilds the houses, and keeps them in thorough repair, it is surely doingwhat he will with his own. Others who do not build, who never repair, surely raise the rent on what is, strictly and honestly speaking, nottheir own. 

There is a difference between this gentleman, whose tenants say, "Hewill send his own gardener to fix up the roses again after the white, orrather gray washing, " and the lord in the West whose tenants say, "If hesaw a patch of flowers at the door, he would compel us to grub it up assomething beyond our station. "

The agent on the Galgorm estate told me that during twenty-five years, when he was in Lord Mount Cashel's land office, there was but oneeviction, and that man got four hundred pounds for his tenant rightbefore he left the yard. This is one man's testimony of one landlord. 

Ulster, as a whole, has had more evictions, pending the Land Bill, thanany other of the provinces. It is true that she has more people toevict. Her rent-roll during the last-eighty years has risen fromL124, 481 to L1, 440, 072. One million, three hundred and fifteen thousandfive hundred and ninety one pounds of a rise. 

XLVII. 

THE CENTRAL COUNTIES--SOME SLEEPY TOWNS. 

Away from the North once more, this time direct southwards; paused onthe Sabbath-day in the neighborhood of Tandragee, and went to a field-meeting at a place called Balnabeck--I wonder if I spell it right? Thisgathering in a church-yard for preaching is held yearly as acommemoration service because John Wesley preached in this samegraveyard when he made an evangelistic tour in Ireland. Although this isonly a yearly service, and a commemoration service of one whom thepeople delight to honor, they made it pretty much a penitential service. There were no seats but what the damp earth afforded, no stand for theofficiating minister but a grave; it was not, therefore, a veryattentive congregation which he addressed. The speaker, a Mr. Pepper, had emigrated from thence when a lad to America. He now returned to thepeople who had known him in earlier days. It was certainly listeningunder difficulties, and we were obliged to leave, by limb-weariness, before the service was over. 

I had an opportunity on the morrow of seeing the handsome weaving ofdamask. The looms are very complicated and expensive affairs, and do notbelong to the weaver but to the manufacturer. The pattern is traced onstiff paper in holes. Was very much interested in watching the processof weaving; of course did not understand it, and therefore wondered overit. The web was two and a half yards wide, was double damask of a fernpattern. The weaver, a young and nice-looking man, with the assuredmanner of a skilled worker, informed me proudly that he could earn threeshillings a day--75 cents. Out of this magnificent income he paid therent of his house--which was not a palace either--and supported hiswife and family. His wife, a pretty and rather refined looking youngwoman, had a baby, teething sick, in the cradle. It must wail, andmother could only look her love and coo to it in softest tones, for ifshe took the little feverish sufferer up the pirns would be unwound andthe husband's three shillings would have a hole in it, so both wife andbaby had a share in the earning of that three shillings--baby's sharethe hardest of all. 

Called in to see another weaver of damask to-day; he could earn fifteenpence a day. He was a melancholy little man, of a pugnacious turn ofmind, I am afraid. He said that fifteen pence a day was but little outof which to pay rent and support a wife and family. Thinking of the wifeand baby at the other house, we said that seeing the wife wound thebobbins, cooked, kept house, nursed and washed for her family that sheearned her full share of the fifteen pence. Would not be surprised tohear that there had been a controversy raging on this very subjectbefore we came in, the man's face became so glum and the woman's sotriumphant. It was an enthusiastic blessing she threw after us when weleft. 

Visited a great thread factory, where the yarn is made ready that iswoven into double damask, and thread for all purposes supplied to allparts. In whatever part of Ireland the tall factory chimney rises upinto the air the people have not the look of starvation that is stampedon the poor elsewhere. Still, if we consider a wage of seven to twelveshillings a week--twelve in this factory was the general wages--andsubtract from that two shillings a week for the house and threeshillings a week for fuel the operators are not likely to lay up largefortunes. As they have no gardens to the houses owned by the factory, nor backyard accommodation of any kind, the cleanliness and tidyappearance of houses and workpeople are a credit to them. But when timesgrow hard, and the mills run half time, and not even a potato to fallback upon, there must be great suffering behind these walls. 

There are large schools, national schools, in this village, and thechildren over ten years of age, who work in the factory, go to schoolhalf time. They are paid at the rate of two-pence halfpenny a day forthe work of the other half of the day--that is equivalent to five cents. The teachers of the schools informed me that, when the little ones camein the morning, as they did on alternate weeks, that they learned well, but when they came in the afternoon they were sleepy and listless. Onthat morning they had to rise at five o'clock. 

The schools which I have seen in Ireland, for so far, are conducted onthe old plan; children learn their lessons at home, repeat them to theteachers in school, who never travel out of record, are trained inobedience, respect to superiors, and in order, more or less, accordingto the nature of the teacher. They still adhere to the broad sound of A, which has been so universally abandoned on the other side of the water. 

The factories at Gilford are very remunerative; great fortunes, allowingof the purchase of landed estates and the building of more than onecastlelike mansion have been made in them. From Tandragee to Portadown, in Armagh, which we travelled in a special car, took us through the samegreen country waving with crops, and in some places shaded heavily withtrees. In the environs of Gilford--as if that very clean manufacturingtown set an example that was universally followed--all the houses areclean and white as to the outside, further away the dreadful-lookinghomes abound. Portadown, all we saw of it, just passing through, is aclean and thrifty little town. 

We would have liked to linger in Armagh a little while, but we musthurry down to the South. Got a glimpse of Armagh Catholic cathedral--avery fine building, not so grand, however, as the Cathedral at Sligo. Took notice of a very fine memorial window, with the name of ArchbishopCrolly on it. I remember him very well, saw him frequently, got a pat onthe head from him occasionally. He seemed partial to the little folks, when we played in the chapel yard--a nice place to play in was thechapel yard in Donegal street. He was then Bishop Crolly, and I was avery small heretic, who loved to play on forbidden ground. Walked abouta little in Armagh between the trains, saw that there were many finechurches and other nice buildings from the outside view of them, andpassed on to Clones. The land as seen from the railway is good in someplaces, poor in others, but in all parts plenty of houses not fit to behuman habitations are to be seen. 

Clones is a little town on a hill, with a history that stretches backinto the dim ages. It has a round tower that threatens to fall, andwill, too, some windy night; an abbey almost gone, but whose age andweakness is propped up by modern repairs, as, they say, the tenure ofsome land depends on the old gable of the abbey standing; a three-storyfort, that, as Clones is built on a hill and the fort is built onClones, affords a wide view of the surrounding country. Clones has apopulation of over two thousand, has no manufactory, depends entirely onthe surrounding farming population, does not publish a newspaper, and isquietly behind the age a century or two. The loyal people who monopolizethe loyalty are in their own way very loyal. It is delightfully sleepy, swarming with little shops with some little things to sell; but whereare the buyers? If a real rush of business were to come to Clones Iwould tremble for the consequences, for it is not used to it. 

I was quartered in the most loyal corner of all the loyal places inClones. Every wall on which my eyes rested proclaimed that fact. Herewas framed all the mysterious symbols of Orangeism, which are very likethe mysterious symbols of masonry to ignorant eyes. There was KingWilliam in scarlet, holding out his arm to some one in crimson, whoinformed the world that "a bullet from the Irish came that grazed KingWilliam's arm. " On the next wall is the battle of the Boyne, with somepithy lines under. 

 "And now the well-contested strand successive columns gain, While backward James' yielding band is borne across the plain; In vain the sword that Erin draws and life away doth fling, O worthy of a better cause and of a nobler king! But many a gallant spirit there retreats across the plain, Who, change but kings, would gladly dare that battlefield again. "

I read that verse, like it, transcribe it, and turn to study thehandsome face of Johnston of Ballykillbeg, who is elevated into thesaint's place alongside of King William on many, many cottage walls, when the hostess appears. Noting the direction of my glance, she informsme of the martyrdom which Mr. Johnston has suffered from Government. Shehas a confused idea that Mr. Johnston is at present returning good forevil by holding our gracious Queen upon the throne in some indirect way. 

After carefully finding out what my religious opinions are, she informsme of evangelistic services that are held in a tent at the foot of thehill on which Clones sits. These services are not, she says, inconnection with the "Hallelujahs" or the "Salvations, " but areauthorized by the Government, and are under the wing of the EpiscopalChurch. Of course tent services under the wing of the Episcopal Churchare worth going to, so we attend. 

The service is quite as evangelical as if it were preached by"Hallelujahs. " There is a very large audience, and the people seem veryattentive. My hostess is much affected. She tells me that if she canwork hard and manage well and be content with her station, reverencingher betters as she ought to do, she hopes to get to heaven at last. Almost in the same breath she informs me that all the people of Mayowill go to hell, if any one goes, for that is their _desarvings_. Yes. The Mayo people are sure to be damned. "God forgive me for sayingso, " adds my hostess, as a saving clause. I am afraid the evangelisticservices have failed as yet as far as my hostess is concerned; and Mayo, beautiful and desolate Mayo, may be glad that the keys of thatinconveniently warm climate are not kept by a Clones woman whom I know. 

There are few who have not something to be proud of. My woman of Clonesis proud of the fact that she entertained and lodged for a night thepotato pilgrims--thirty-five of them--who went to Captain Boycott'srelief down to Lough Mask. After she had mentioned this circumstance afew times, and did seem to take much spiritual comfort from the face, Iventured to inquire if she were paid for it. Oh, yes, she was; but ifshe had not been--she was all on the right side, she was that; and ifshe had the power would sweep every Papist off the face of the earth. She was wicked, she said, on this subject. 

I did not believe this woman; her talk was mere party blow. The wholestreet about her was full of Papists, small and great. I do not thinkshe would sweep the smallest child off the face of the earth, except bya figure of speech. There are those who really know what language meanswho are responsible for this bloodthirsty kind of talk. It means little, but it keeps up party spirit. 

I thought of speeches which I heard on the 12th of July by ministers ofthe Gospel, with all the Scripture quotations from Judges, and Samuel, telling an inflamable people--only they were too busy with their drumsand fifes to listen--that "God took the side of fighting men--Gideonmeant battle--an angel was at the head of the Lord's host--Scotland wasespecially blest because it was composed of fighting men. " Does theGospel mean brother to war against brother for the possession of hisfield? How much need there is for our loving Lord to rebuke Hisdisciples by telling them again, "Ye know not what manner of spirit yeare of, for the leaders of my people cause them to err. "

Clones takes its name from a word that may signify the meadow of Eois, or high meadow. It has a history that goes back to grope about Araratfor the potsherds thrown out of the ark. It has a very old and famousround tower, used at some time as a place of sepulchre, for a greatquantity of human bones have been found in it. In one stone of thistower is the mark of two toes printed into the stone, or the mark ofsome fossil remains dislodged by a geological hammer. 

As Clones sits upon a hill, and the fort sits on the highest part, itcommands an extensive view. There is also an ancient cross in the marketsquare, once elaborately carved in relief, but the figures are wornindistinct. There are the remains of an old castle built in among themodern walls and hidden out of sight. There are stories of anunderground passage between the abbey and the castle. In fact, they cameon this underground way when levelling the market space, but did notexplore it. There is such a romance about mystery that it is as well, Isuppose, not to let too much daylight shine in upon it. 

Clones, with its abbey, was burned by De Lacy in the thirteenth century, which was, perhaps, its last burning. 

I was glad on the evening on which I climbed to the top of the fort tofind little gardens lying up the slope at the back of the poorer houses. Clones is better off in this respect by being behind the age. In Antrimand Down, in too many instances, the farmers have taken the cotter'sgardens into their fields. I wished to be sure if the gardens belongedto the people who lived in the thatched cottages, and I spoke across thehedge to a man who was digging potatoes in one of them, a man with aleather apron, marking him out as a shoemaker, and a merry, contentedface. Yes, the gardens belonged to the cottages at the foot of the hill. All the cottages had gardens in Clones. The people had all gardens inClones. They were not any of them in want. They had enough, thank God. There was every prospect of a good harvest and a good harvest broughtplenty to every home. 

A few words often change the world to us. I climbed the three-storeyfort at Clones feeling sad and hopeless in the grey evening, everythingseemed chill and dreary like the damp wind, and this man's cheery wordsof rejoicing over the prospect of good crops, over the yield of thelittle gardens, touched me as if sunset splendor had fallen over theworld, and I came down comforted with the thought that our Father whogives fruitful seasons will also find a way for Ireland to emerge fromthe thick darkness of her present misery. 

I was referred to the Presbyterian minister of Clones for information onthe antiquities of Clones, and from his lecture, which he with greatkindness read to me, I gathered what historical hints I have insertedhere. At the minister's I met with a pleasant-faced, motherly lookinglady who talked to me of the Land question, the prevailing topic. Fromremarks she made I gathered that she was an enthusiastic church member, but on the Land question she had no ideas of either justice or mercythat could possibly extend beyond the privileged classes. I referred tothe excessive rents, she gave a mild shake of her motherly chin andspoke of the freedom of contract. I spoke of new landlords making newand oppressive office rules and raising the rents above the power to payof the tenants he found there when coming into possession. She said theymight suffer justly if they had no written guarantee. She actuallyconsidered that a gentleman was not bound by his word of promise, nordid he inherit any _verbal_ agreement entered into by the man fromwhom he inherited his property. I spoke of the hardship of a long lifeof toil and penury ending in the workhouse. She said when they knew theymust go into the workhouse eventually why did they not go in at oncewithout giving so much trouble. I asked her if she, who seemed to knowwhat it was to be a mother, would not if it were her own case put offgoing into the workhouse, which meant parting with her children, to thevery last. The idea of mentioning her name in the one breath with thesepeople precluded the possibility of answering. She threw down herknitting and left the room. 

Was it not sad to think that this Christian lady had yet to learn theembracing first two words of the Lord's prayer, Our Father. Looking atthe strength of this caste prejudice, as strong here as in India, Ioften feel sad, but Our Father reigns. Protestant ministers belonging_ex-officio_ to this upper caste, and being, so to speak, a fewflights of stairs above their people, cannot speak with the power ofknowledge which our Lord had by His companionship with the poor of Hispeople. 

I was more astonished than I can describe at the sentiments that met mein this red hot corner of Monaghan. "The people were armed, " they said, "the people had revolvers and pikes, they would rise and murder them ifthey were let up at all. " They did not exactly know what this let upmeant, and I am sure I did not either. I heard a great deal about '98;surely '98 ought to get away into the past and not remain as a presentdate forever. I cannot for the life of me see what '98 has to do withallowing a man to live by his labor in his own country. The landquestion affects all and is outside of these old remembrances. 

I must acknowledge that I have heard no Roman Catholic mix the landquestion with religion; they keep it by itself. I was informed that whenI passed Clones I was in Ireland, as if Clones was an outpost of someother country. 

The Episcopal Church in Clones is built on an eminence and is reached bya serious flight of steps; it looks down on the ancient cross whichstands in the market place. This church is being repaired and wastherefore open, so I climbed the long flight of steps and went in to seeit. It certainly is being greatly improved. A grand ceiling has replacedthe old one, a fine organ and stained glass windows add to the glory ofthe house. I had an opportunity of speaking with the rector, and hiscurate, I imagine. They pointed out the improvements in the church, which I admired, of course, and they told me some news which was of moreinterest to me than either organ tone or dim religious light streamingthrough stained glass. 

They said that the temperance cause was flourishing in connection withtheir congregation. Both these clergymen were strict teetotalers, theysaid, and workers in the total abstinence field. The number of pledgedadherents to the temperance cause had increased some hundreds within agiven time. There was every encouragement to go on in the fight with allboldness. Truly these gentlemen had good cheer for me in what they saidon this subject, for the drinking customs are a great curse to thepeople of the land wherever I have been. 

From Clones to Belturbet Junction, where there were no cars, and therewas the alternative of waiting at the station from two to seven p. M. , orgetting a special car. Waiting was not to be thought of for a moment, sogot a car and a remarkably easy-going driver. He informed me that therate of wages about that part of the country was one shilling a day withfood. He thought the people were not very poor. The crops were good, thewages not bad, and he thought the people were very contented. Belturbetis another quiet little town, larger than Clones I should say. LikeClones it has no newspaper, no specific industry, but depends on thefarmers round. 

Procured a car and drove out to the village of Drumalee. The land ismiddling good as far as the eye can judge. This neighborhood aboundswith small lakes. Here for the first time I saw lads going to fish withthe primitive fishing rods peculiar to country boys. The country roundhere is full of people and there is no appearance of extreme poverty. The houses are rather respectable looking, comparatively speaking. 

There is a fine Catholic chapel in Drumalee built of stone in place ofthe mud wall of seventy odd years ago. Saw no old people about and foundthat almost the recollection of Father Peter Smith, the blessed priestwho wrought miracles, had faded away from the place, also that of hisfriend the loyal Orangeman who always got Orange as a prefix to hisname. 

The police in these midland counties are not so alert and vigilant, likepeople in an enemy's country, as they are in the west. They do not seemto have "reasonable suspects" on their minds. The asses of Belturbet, although some of them appear dressed in straw harness, and with creels, are well fed and sleek and do not bray in a melancholy, gasping manneras if they were squealing with hunger as the Leitrim asses do. It rainedpretty steadily during the time I was in Belturbet, and the principaltrading to be seen from my window was the sale of heather besoms. Awoman and a young girl, barefooted and bareheaded, arrived at the cornerwith an ass-load of this merchandise. They were sold at one half-pennyeach. They were neatly made, and the heather of which they were composedbeing in bloom they looked very pretty. How it did rain on thesedripping creatures! Being shut up by the weather I took an interest inthe besom merchants and their load, which was such a heavy one that agood-natured bystander had to help to lift the load off the ass's back. It was a long while before a customer appeared. At length a stout woman, with the skirt of her dress over her head, ran across the street to buya broom. She bargained closely, getting the broom and a scrubber for onehalf-penny, but as she was the first purchaser she spat upon the half-penny for luck. Then came some more little girl buyers, who inspectedand turned over the brooms with an important commercial air, with intentto get the worth of their half-penny and show to their mothers at homethat they were fit to be trusted to invest a half-penny wisely. Theybought and others came and bought until the stock began to diminishsensibly. 

A little man who had arrived with his load of besoms somewhat later soldnone. I saw him glance from his load to the stock of mother anddaughter, fast selling off, and become aware that his stock as comparedwith theirs was rather heathery, and he began to trim off roughnesseswith his knife. I hope he succeeded in selling. 

Drove out to Drumlane, where are the ruins of a large church and abbeyand round tower. The driver, a Catholic, talked a little, guardedly, ofthe high rents. A broken-down looking man, who opened the iron gates forus into the ruins, complained heavily of the rents. He was only alaborer himself, the farmer he worked for was paying fifty-fiveshillings an acre for part of his farm and L3 for the rest. The land onwhich I looked was rented at L3. My only wonder is that the lands thusrented pay the rent alone without supporting in any manner the tillersof the soil. It was all pasture at this particular place. The ruins hereof the church are very extensive, of the abbey only the fragment of awall is standing. My guides informed me that there was an undergroundpassage in old days between the abbey and the church, so that the bishopwas not seen from the time he left the abbey until he appeared on thehigh altar. 

They remarked that a story handed down from father to son as a truerecord of a place should be believed before a written account. They madeno allowance for the coloring given to a story as it passed through theimaginations of successive generations. I assured them that I acceptedall legends as historical facts to a certain extent. They were madehappy, and were in a fit state of mind to _insinse_ me into thefacts of the case about the round tower. It is of great thickness, thearea enclosed would make a good sized room. The stone work is remarkablysolid and good, and every stone smoothly fitted into the next with noappearance of mortar. It is wonderful to see how the projection of onestone is neatly fitted into a cavity made to correspond in its fellow. On one stone a bird is cut in relief, another nearly the same in theattitude of following is cut on another stone. There is also arepresentation of a coffin. The beautiful stone work goes up a greatway, and suddenly stops, the remainder of the building being done in amuch rougher manner. 

Seeing that I was of a reasonable turn of mind, they informed me thatthe lower portion of this round tower was built by a woman, but shebeing jeered at and tormented by the men masons, jealous of her work, disappeared in the night, leaving the masons to finish it, which theydid, but not nearly so well, as we could see. 

On the way from Drumlane to Ballyconnell the driver began to talk of thebitter feeling that was kept up in the country on party subjects. Hesaid that religion forbid it, for if we noticed in the Lord's prayer itwas a prayer to forgive us as we forgave others. He thought Irelandcould not prosper or have God's blessing until the bitterness of partyspirit went down. 

Found Ballyconnell just such another sleepy little town as Clones andBelturbet. Here I had the comfort of meeting a friend who had puzzled alittle over the land question in a misty sort of way, and was willing togive the benefit of his observations and conclusions. 

From Clones to Belturbet and on to Ballyconnell, as I have mentionedbefore, I believe, is pretty much the same sort of country, good fields, middling and good pastures alternating with stretches of bog and manysmall lakes dotted about here and there. Every appearance of thrifty, contented poverty among the people as far as met the eye. They werebetter clad, the little asses shod, and sleek and fat, so different fromother places. Still, the best of the common people all along here is notvery good to trans-Atlantic eyes, and the houses one sees as they passalong are dreadfully bad. 

I spoke of this to my friend in Ballyconnell, who informed me that thepeople were harassed with ever-increasing rent, that as soon as theycould not meet it they were dealt with without mercy. A man who hadtoiled to create a clearing--put a life's labor into it--was often notable to pay the increased rent and then he was put out, while anotherman paid the increased rent on his neighbor's lost labor. 

This friend of mine held the opinion that landlords of the old stocknever did wrong, never were rapacious or cruel; it was the newlandlords, traders who bought out in the Encumbered Estates Court, whohad no mercy, and the agents. Here again was brought up the story deniedbefore that the agents had a percentage on the rents collected. 

One cannot agree with the fact of all landlords of the old stock beingconsiderate and kind and all new landlords rapacious; for Lord Leitrimwas of the old stock, and who would wish to succeed to the inheritanceof hatred he left behind him, and Lord Ardilaun, a new landlord, is wellspoken of by all his people. Every one with whom I spoke of him, including the parish priest, acknowledged him to be a high-toned, grandly benevolent man, who, if he differed from his tenants, differedas one on a height of grandeur may misjudge the ability of the poor. 

XLVIII. 

IN THE COUNTY CAVAN--THE ANNALS OF THE POOR--BURYING THE PAST. 

As an instance of hardships of which the poor had to complain, myinformant mentioned the case of one very old man, whose children hadscattered away over the world, which meant that they had emigrated. Heheld a small place on a property close beside another property managedby my informant's brother. This old man had paid his rent for sixty-nineyears; he and his people before him had lived, toiled and paid rent onthis little place. He was behind in his rent, for the first time, andhad not within a certain amount the sum required. He besought theintercession of my friend's brother, who, having Scotch caution in hisveins, did not, though pitying, feel called upon to interfere. The oldman tendered what money he had at the office and humbly asked that hemight have time given him to make up the rest. It was refused withcontempt. 

"Sir, " faltered the old man, "I have paid my rent every year for sixty-nine years. I have lived here under three landlords without reproach. Iam a very old man. I might get a little indulgence of time. "

"All that is nothing to me, " said the agent. 

"Sir, " said the old man, "if my landlord himself were here, or theGeneral his father, or my Lord Belmore who sold the land to him, I wouldnot be treated in this way after all. "

"Get out of this instantly, " said the agent, stamping his foot, "Howdare you give such insolence to me. "

"You see, " explained my friend, "he was very old, it was not likely thatany more could be got out of him even if he got time, for he was pasthis labor. Besides there was a man beside him who held a large farm, andhe wanted this old man's little holding to square off his farm, so theold man had to go to the wall, but I was sorry for him. "

There is a good deal of this unproductive sorrow scattered over Irelandamong the comfortable classes. There are a good many also who feel likethat motherly Christian lady in Clones who said to me, "When they haveto go into the poor-house at the last, and they know it will come tothat, why not go in at once?"

I am convinced more and more every day of the widespread need there isthat some evangelistic effort should be made to bring a practical Gospelto bear on the dominant classes in Ireland. 

My friend and I walked up to the church to search for some graves in thechurchyard that lies around it. He drew my attention to the socket wherea monument had been erected but which was gone, and mentioned thecircumstances under which it had disappeared. A gentleman of thecountry, an Episcopalian, had fallen in love with and married a Catholiclady. The usual bargain had been made, the daughters to follow themother's faith, the sons to go with the father. There was one son whowas a member of the Episcopalian church. It seemed that the son lovedand reverenced his Catholic mother, and that she was also loved andreverenced by her Catholic coreligionists. When she died she was buriedin the family burying plot of ground in the Episcopalian churchyard. Herson erected there a white marble cross to his mother's memory. At thiscross, on their way home from mass, sundry old women used to turn in, and, kneeling down there, say a prayer. This proceeding, visible fromthe church windows, used to annoy and exasperate the officiatingclergyman very much. At the time of the disestablishment of the Church acommittee was being formed to make some arrangements consequent uponthis event. The Episcopal son of this Catholic mother was named on theCommittee, and a great opposition was got up to his nomination onaccount of his being only Protestant by half blood. There was noobjection to him personally, his faith or belief was thought sound, except that part of it which was hereditary. My friend considered thisvery wrong, and ranged himself on the side of the gentleman who was thecause of the dispute. The dispute waxed so hot that the parties almostcame to blows in the vestry room. 

During the time this war raged some bright genius, on one of the days ofOrange procession, had a happy thought of putting an orange arch overthe churchyard gate, in such a manner that the praying women should haveto pass under it if they entered. I am not quite sure whether the archwas destroyed or not; as far as my memory serves I think it was. Something happened to it anyway. Something also happened to themonumental cross, which was torn down, broken up and strewed round inmarble fragments. The gentleman prosecuted several Orangemen whom hesuspected of this outrage. There was not evidence to convict them. Anincreased ill-feeling got up against the gentleman for a prosecutionthat threw a slur on the Orange organization. The Orange society offereda reward of L60 for the discovery and conviction of the offenders, butnothing came of it. My friend thought it was done by parties unknown tobring reproach on the Orange cause. The gentleman of the half-blood hadnot been so much thought of by his fellow church members since thistransaction. 

I spoke to my friend upon the unchristian nature of this party spirit, which he agreed with me in lamenting, but excused by telling me outragesby the Catholic party which made me shudder. All these outrages wereconfirmed by the ancient woman who kept the key of the church, and whostood listening and helping with the story, emphasizing with the key. Iasked when these outrages had taken place, and was relieved considerablyto hear that they happened about 1798 and 1641. Asked my friend if theother side had not any tales of suffered atrocities to tell? He supposedthey had, thought it altogether likely. Why then, I asked him, do younot bury this past and live like Christians for the future. 

I am often asked this question about burying the past, said my friend. My answer is, let them bury first and afterwards we will. Let them burytheir Ribbonism, their Land Leagueism, their Communism and theirNihilism (making the motion of digging with his hands as he spoke) andafter that ask us to bury our Orangeism, our Black Chapter, our FreeMasonry, and we will do it then. 

As we came down the hill from the church, I said to my friend, "Youacknowledge that there are wrongs connected with land tenure that shouldbe set right. You say that you see things of doubtful justice and scantmercy take place here, that you see oppression toward the poor of yourcountry; why, then, not join with them to have what is wrong redressed, fight side by side on the Land Question and leave religious differencesaside for the time being?" "I would be willing to do this, " said myfriend, "I do not believe in secret societies, although I belong tothree of them, but a man must go with his party if he means to livehere. There are many Orangemen who have become what we call 'rotten, 'about Fermanagh, over one hundred have been expelled for joining theLand League. "

Party spirit is nourished, and called patriotism; it is fostered andcalled religion, but it is slowly dying out, Ireland is beingregenerated and taught by suffering. In all suffering there is hope. This thought comforted me when I shook hands with my friend and turnedmy back to Ballyconnell and to Belturbet and took the car for Cavan, passing through the same scenery of field and bog and miserable housesthat prevail all over. 

The only manufacture of any kind which I noticed from Clones to Cavan, alarge thriving town bustling with trade, was the making of brick, whichI saw in several places. These inland towns seem to depend almostentirely on the agricultural population around them. 

From Cavan down through the County Cavan, is swarming with Land Leaguersthey say, although I met with none to know them as such. Poor land is inmany places, a great deal of bog, many small lakes and miserable mudwall cabins abounding. In every part of Ireland, and almost at everyhouse, you see flocks of ducks and geese; raising them is profitable, because they do not require to be fed, but forage for themselves, theducks in the water courses and ponds, while the geese graze, and theyonly get a little extra feed when being prepared for market. Ducks canbe seen gravely following the spade of a laborer, with heads to one sidewatching for worms. Neither ducks nor geese, nor both together, are asnumerous as the crows; they seem to be under protection, and theyincrease while population decreases. 

As one journeys south the change in the countenance of the people isquite remarkable. In Down, Antrim, Donegal, the faces are almost alldifferent varieties of the Scottish face--Lowland, Highland, Border orIsle--but as you come southward an entirely different type prevails. Inoticed it first at Omagh. It is the prevailing face in Cavan; large, loose features, strong jaws, heavy cheeks and florid complexion, combined mostly with a bulky frame. You hear these people tracing backtheir ancestors to English troopers that came over with Cromwell orWilliam the Third. They have a decided look of Hengist and Horsa aboutthem. 

The feeling against the Land League among the Conservative classes inthe north is comparatively languid to the deeper and more intensefeeling that prevails southward. The gulf between the two peoples thatinhabit the country widens. After leaving Cavan we crossed a small pointof Longford and thence into Westmeath, passing quite close toDerryvaragh Lake, and then to Lake Owel after passing Mulingar, gettinga glimpse of yet another, Westmeath Lake. 

After passing Athlone and getting into Roscommon we got a view of thatwidening of the Shannon called Lough Ree, sixteen miles long and in someparts three miles wide. A woman on the train told me of that island onthis lough, Hare island, with Lord Castlemaine's beautiful plantation, of the castle he has built there, decorated with all that taste candevise, heart can desire or riches buy. A happy man must be my LordCastlemaine. Lough Ree is another silent water, like the waters of thewest unbroken by the keel of any boat, undarkened by the smoke of anysteamer, the breeze flying over it fills no sail. 

I have mentioned before how completely the County Mayo has gone tograss. The same thing is apparent in a lesser degree elsewhere. There isnot a breadth of tillage sufficient to raise food for the people. Cattlehave been so high that hay and pasturage were more remunerative, and thelaborers depend for food on the imported Indian meal. The grassycondition of every place strikes one while passing along; but Roscommonseems to be given up to meadow and pasture land almost altogether. Thehay crop seems light in some places. The rain has been so constant thatsaving it has been difficult in some places. I saw some hay lookingrather black, which is an unbecoming color for hay. Roscommon is a verylevel country as far as I saw of it, and very thinly populated. 

The town of Roscommon has a quiet inland look, with a good deal oftrading done in a subdued manner. There is the extensive ruin of an oldcastle in it; the old gaol is very castle-like also. I drove over toAthleague as soon as I arrived, a small squalid village some four Irishmiles away. The land is so level that one can see far on every side aswe drive along, and the country is really empty. The people left in thelittle hamlets have one universal complaint, the rent is too high to bepaid and leave the people anything to live on. It was raised to thehighest during prosperous years; when the bad years came it becameimpossible. 

I enquired at this village of Athleague what had become of all thepeople that used to live here in Roscommon. They were evicted for theycould not pay their rents. Where are they? Friends in America sentpassage tickets for many, some, out of the sale of all, made out whattook them away; some were in the poor house; some dead and gone. Theland is very empty of inhabitants. 

CHAPTER XLIX

AN EMPTY COUNTRY--RAPACIOUS LANDLORDS. 

From Roscommon I drove to Lanesborough where Longford and Roscommonmeet at a bridge across the Shannon, and where a large Catholic churchstands on each side of the river. The bridge at Lanesborough, a swingbridge, substantial and elegant, the solid stone piers--all the stonework on bridge and wharves is of hewn stone--speak of preparations for agreat traffic which is not there, like the warehouses of Westport. Seeing all facilities for trade and all conveniences for trade prepared, and the utter silence over all, makes one think of enchanted placeswhere there must come a touch of some kind to break the charm before thebustle of life awakes and "leaps forward like a cataract. "

One man stood idle and solitary on the wharf at Lanesborough as if hewere waiting for the sudden termination of this spell-bound still life. 

My glimpse of Longford from the neighborhood of Lanesborough showed aplace of wooded hills and valleys covered with crops, and with thisglimpse we turned back over the plain of Roscommon. The road lay throughpeat bog for a good part of the way, and the mud-wall cabins were a sadsight indeed. 

Empty as the country is, eviction is still going on. Many have occurredlately, and more are hanging over the people. From Roscommon to Boyle, across more than one-half the length of this long county, from Roscommonto French Park, the country is so completely emptied of inhabitants thatone can drive a distance of five miles at once without seeing a humanhabitation except a herd's hut. The country is as empty as if Williamthe Conqueror had marched through it. 

Several persons called upon me to give me some information on the stateof things in general. I also received some casual information. Onegentleman of large experience from his position, a person of greatintelligence and cultivation, while utterly condemning the Land League, admitted that some change in the Land Law was absolutely necessary. Heinstanced one case where a gentleman acquired a property by marriage andimmediately set about raising the rent. Rent on one little holding wasraised from L2 to L10 at one jump. In no case was it less than doubled. This landlord complains bitterly that the people under the influence ofthe Land League have turned against him. They used to bow and smile, andit was, "What you will, sir, " and, "As you please. " Now they are surlyand sullen and will not salute him. 

The farmer who holds a good-sized farm always wishes to extend itsborders and is ready and eager to add the poor man's fields to his own. Concentration of lands into few hands, reducing small farmers intolaborers, is the idea that prevails largely. 

My Athleague friend, a very interesting old gentleman, after mentioningthe great depopulation of Roscommon, spoke of good landlords, such asLord Dufresne, Mr. Charles French, the O'Connor Don, Mr. Mapother; buthe paused before mentioning any oppressive ones. "Would his nameappear?" No. His name should not appear. "Well, for fear of getting intoany trouble I will mention no names, but we find that they who purchasedin the Encumbered Estates Court are the most rapacious landlords. "

One gentleman, who was representing to me the discouragement given toimprovement, mentioned a case where a person of means who held a littleplace for comfort and beauty, but lived by another pursuit than farming, sought the agent to know if he could obtain any compensation forimprovements which he had made, and which had made his place one of themost beautiful in Roscommon. He wanted to be sure that he was notthrowing his money away. When he sought the agent on this subject hefound him on his car preparing to drive away somewhere. He listened tohis tenant's question as to compensation for outlay, and then whipped upthe horse and drove away without answering. 

I had a call from an elderly gentleman, before I left Roscommon, whogave me his views on the question very clearly. He thought as God hadordained some to be rich and others to be poor, any agitation to betterthe condition of the poor was sheer flying in the face of the Almighty. Under cover of helping the poor the Land League were plotting todismember the British Empire. There never had been peace in the countrysince the confiscation, and there never would be until the RomanCatholic population were removed by emigration and replaced byProtestants. The blame of the present disturbed condition of the countryhe laid upon four parties: First, the Government, who administered thecountry in a fitful manner, now petting, now coercing, while they shouldkeep the country steadily under coercion, for alternately petting andcoercing sets parties against one another more than ever. Second, landlords and agents, who rented land too high and raised the rent onthe tenant's own invested improvements. Third, the priests, who couldrepress outrage and reveal crime if they chose to do so. Fourth, Catholic tenants who took the law into their own hands instead ofpatiently waiting for redress by law. 

According to this gentleman, the only innocent persons in Ireland werethe Protestant tenantry; so to root out the Catholics and replace themby Protestants was the only possible way to have peace in the country. Boycotting he referred to especially as a dangerous thing, whichparalyzed all industry and turned the country into a place governed bythe worst kind of mob law. 

Another gentleman of position and experience said that a strike againstpaying rent led easily into a strike against paying anything at all;that society had really become disorganized. Many held back their rents, which they were well able to pay--had the money by them. The Land Leaguehad done a great deal of harm. At the same time this gentleman confirmedthe Athleague gentleman's statement that rents were raised past thepossibility of the tenant's paying, that eviction was cruel andpersistent, the belief being that large grass farms were the only payingform of letting land. In fact, he said, he himself had evicted thetenants on his property on pain of being evicted himself. He held land, but at such a rent that if living by farming alone he would not be ableto pay it. 

He gave some instances of boycotting. One was that travelling in theneighboring county of Longford he had occasion to get a smith to look athis horse's shoes, and was asked for his Land League ticket. On sayinghe had none, the smith refused to attend to the horse's shoes. Roscommonhad boycotted a Longford man who had taken willow rods to sell becausehe had not a Land League ticket, and a Longford smith in reprisal wouldnot set the shoe on the horse of a Roscommon man unless he had a LandLeague ticket. When the gentleman explained that he had bought fivehundred of those same rods from that same man the smith attended to thehorse, and the boycotting was over. 

I heard of other cases of boycotting. It is not by any means a newdevice, although it has come so prominently before the public lately. 

From Roscommon I crossed country past Clara and Tullamore, across King'scounty into Portarlington on the borders of Queen's county. Portarlington is the centre of a beautiful country full of cultivatedfarms as well as shut-up and walled-in gentlemen's seats. 

Walking down the principal street, I noticed a large placard fastened toa board hanging on a wall; thought it was a proclamation and stopped toread it. It was an exposition of the errors of the Catholic Church insuch large type that he that runs may read it. I have some doubtswhether this is the best way of convincing people of an opposite beliefof their errors. I went into the shop thinking I might perhaps buy anewspaper. I fear me the mistress of the establishment, a timid, elderlywoman, imagined me to be a belligerent member of the attacked churchcome to call her to account, for she retreated at a fast run to thekitchen from which she called an answer in the negative to my enquiry. 

Returning to my abiding place, I asked the hostess if the town containedmany Catholics. "Oh, dear no, " she replied, "there are few Catholics. The people are nearly all Protestants. " In this neighborhood thecelebrated John George Adair, of Derryveigh celebrity, has a magnificentresidence called Belgrove Park. He has the name of being a very wealthyman. He is not praised here, but has the reputation of being hard-hearted, exacting and merciless. I doubted a little whether it wasreally the same man, as they called him, irreverently enough, JackAdair, but to convince me they immediately began repeating the verseswith their burden of five hundred thousand curses on cruel John Adair, which they could repeat readily with variations. 

The railway facilities are very slow and conservative in their motions. I could not get on to Limerick the same day, but had to remain overnight in Portarlington. 

At Limerick Junction there was another wait of two hours, and at last westeamed into Limerick. It is a large city of tall houses, large churchesand high monuments. The inhabitants say it was celebrated for its tallhouses five or six hundred years ago. 

L. 

THE CITY ON THE SHANNON. 

The Shannon is a mighty river running here between low green banks. Thetide comes up to Limerick and rises sometimes to the top of the seawall. A fine flourishing busy town is Limerick with its shipping. I havediscovered the post-office, found out the magnificent RedemptoristChurch. Noticing this church and the swarm of other grand churches withthe same emblems and the five convents as well as other buildings fordifferent fraternities, noticing also the queer by-places wheredissenting places of worship are hidden away, one concludes that theyare in a Catholic city, and so they are. On Sunday found out a littlePresbyterian Church hid away behind some houses and joined its handfulof worshippers. 

In the afternoon walked along the streets for some way and found myselfall at once in what is called the English part of the town, but whichlooked more foreign than any place I have yet seen on my own green isle. The houses were tall, and had been grand in King Donagh O'Brien's time, I suppose. The streets were very narrow. The last week's wash, thatlooked as if the Shannon was further away than it is, fluttered from thebroken windows of the fifth story. All the shops were open; there didnot seem to be any buyers, but if there were, they might get supplied. The very old huckster women sat by their baskets of very small and verywizened apples, and infinitesimal pears that had forgotten to grow. Twowomen, one in a third-story window and one on the street, wereexchanging strong compliments. In fact, as our cousins would say, "therewas no Sunday in that English quarter worth a cent. " I made my escapewith a sick longing for some one to carry a gospel of good tidings ofgreat joy in there. 

Next morning I found out the English Cathedral, which is at the veryborder, so to speak, of that forgotten place. It stands in prettygrounds. The elderly gentleman who has the care of it, and who shows itoff like a pet child, happened to be there, and took charge of me. Hewas determined I should conscientiously see and hear all about thatchurch. This church was built in 1194 by Donagh O'Brien, King ofMunster. It was not new even then, for King Donagh made his new churchout of an old palace of his. 

I followed that old man while he pointed out the relics of the old andthe glories of the new, the magnificent painted windows, the velvet ofthe costliest that covered the altar, the carvings of price, thecushions and the carpets, and, a few steps away, the fluttering rags, the horrible poverty, the hopeless lives of the English quarter. Trulythe fat and the wool are in one place, and the flock on the darkmountains in another. Outside are various stone cupboards, calledvaults, where highbred dust moulders in state free from any beggarlyadmixture. 

That old man wished to delude me up unknown steps to the battlements andup to other battlements on the top of the church tower--it was rainingheavily, and the gray clouds lying on the house tops, you could hardlyhave seen across two streets--to see the view forsooth; then hevolunteered to set the bells ringing in my honor, but I declined. Hethen told me of the bells--it was new to me; it may not be new toothers. They were--well--taken without leave from Italy. The Italianwho cast them pilgrimed over the world in search of them. Sailing up theShannon he heard his long-lost bells, and it killed him, the joy did. 

The puritan soldiers destroyed the profusion of statues that decoratedthis church. Noticed one simple monument to one Dan Hayes, an honest manand a lover of his country. Near this cathedral is the house whereIreton died, tall and smoky, battered and fallen into age, but veryhigh. Its broken windows showed several poverty-stricken faces lookingdown on the cathedral grounds, which, of course, are kept locked. KingJohn's castle, very strong, very tall, very grim, seems mostly composedof three great towers, but there are really seven. Inside the walls is abarrack that could lodge 400 men. Limerick is full of old memorials ofpresent magnificence and of past and present need. The inhabitantsproudly tell you that it never was conquered, not consideringcapitulation conquest. The city raised the first monument to O'Connell. Of course I saw it, and thought it a good likeness. There is a square ofgrass and trees near it, where is a monument of Spring Rice, he who, when O'Connell was sick once, a political sickness, was said to be indespair:

 "Poor Spring Rice, with his phiz all gloom, Kept noiselessly creeping about the room; His innocent nose in anguish blowing, Murmuring forth, 'He's going, going. '"

I did not hear the sweet bells that charmed the life out of the poorwandering Italian, still I think I have perhaps told enough about theancient city of Limerick on the Shannon. 

From Limerick up through Clare, the railway passes along by the riverFergus, a big tributary of the Shannon. A Clare man informed me thatClare returned Dan O'Connell to Parliament. He sank his voice into anemphatic whisper to inform us that Dan was the first Catholic who evergot into Parliament. 

I have been taken for this one and that one since I came to Ireland, andhave been amused or annoyed, as the case may be, but I am totally at aloss to know whom I resembled or was taken for in the County Clare. Adecent-looking countrywoman shook hands with me, telling me she had seenme in some part of Clare a month ago, and I had never set foot into thecounty until to-day. "You remember me, my lady, I saw you when youstopped at ----" some whispered name with an O to it. The woman's facewas strangely familiar, but I was on entirely new ground. 

There is enchantment in this western country. I was completelybewildered when a frieze-coated farmer told me, "That was a grand speechyou made at Tuam, and true every word of it. " It was a little confusing, seeing that I have never been in Tuam, or very near it at all. This oldgentleman enquired coaxingly if I were going to speak at Ennis, andassured me of a grand welcome to be got up in a hurry. Then he and thefarmer's wife exchanged thoughts--that "I did not want anybody to know Iwas in it"--in aggravating whispers as I looked steadily out of thewindows to assure myself that I was I. My friend in frieze then began todraw my attention to certain landmarks, the ruins of this abbey and thatcastle, and the other graveyard as points of interest with which I wassupposed to be familiar. 

Truly this part of Clare seemed to have any amount of square castles inruined grandeur scattered along the line of rail. We stopped at astation and saw Ennis lying below us, and O'Connell's statue rising upbetween us and the sky. My two friends parted from me here to my immenserelief. I felt as if I were obtaining admiration on false pretences. Thewoman took my hand, and, with a long fond look, began to bless me inEnglish, but her feelings compelled her to slide off into fervent Irish. The frieze-coated gentleman stood, hat in hand, and bowed and bowed, and"his life was at my service, and if I wished to pass unnoticed sure hecould whisht, and good-by and God bless you. " and away they went. Forwhom did they take me?

Clare is pretty stony. Again I saw fields from which stones had beengathered to form fences like ramparts. Again I saw fields crusted withstone like the fields of Cong, with the same waterworn appearance, butnot so extensive. The little, pretty station of Cusheen seemed an oasisin a stony wilderness. 

Past many a little field hemmed in with stony barricades, past many anancient ruin, sitting in desolation, into Athenry, the ancient Ath-an-righ, the fortress of kings. It was pouring rain, it often is pouringrain. I took shelter in the hotel whose steps rise from the railwaystation. There, in a quaint little corner room with a broad strip ofwindow, I settled myself to write with the light of a poor candle, andthe rain fell outside. Athenry bristles with ruins. 

King John has another castle here all in ruins. There is a part of awall here and there, and the arch of a gate which has been patched upand has some fearful hovels leaning up against it. It has the ruins ofan abbey and of a priory. The names of Clanricarde and De Birminghamlinger among these ruins; the modern cabins, without window pane or anychimney at all, but a hole in the roof, are mixed up with the ruinsalso. 

The well-fed maid at the hotel informed me that they were very poor. There is no work and no tillage, the land being in grass for sheep. "Ido not believe any of them know what a full meal means. No one knows howthey manage to live, the creatures, " said the maid, comfortably. So thenight and the morning passed at Athenry, and we passed on to the villageof Oranmore. 

LI. 

GALWAY AND THE MEN OF GALWAY. 

From Athenry and its ruins went to Oranmore and its ruins. The povertyof Athenry deepens into still greater poverty in Oranmore. The countryis under grass, hay is the staple crop, so there being little tillage, little labor is required. They depend on chance employment to procurethe foreign meal on which they live. Some depend for help to a greatextent on the friends in America. 

There is a new pier being built here, for an arm of the sea runs up toOranmore. They told me that this pier was being built by the Canadianmoney. It will be a harbor of refuge for fishing craft and better daysof work and food may yet dawn upon the West. 

Behind the pier are the ruins of a large castle which belonged to theBlakes, one of the Galway tribes. It was inhabited by the last Blake whoheld any of the broad acres of his ancestors within the memory of theold people. I stood in the roofless upper room which had been thedancing saloon, penetrated into galleries built for defence lit only byloop holes, went down the little dark stair into the dungeon, tried topeer into the underground passage that connected with the seashore, ascended to the battlements and looked over the lonely land and exploredmultitudes of small rooms reached by many different flights of stonesteps. 

These people are largely of the Norman blood. Oh, for the time whenpeace and plenty, law and order shall reign here; when the peasant shallnot consider law as an oppressor to be defied or evaded, an engine ofoppression in the hands of the rich, but an impartial and inflexibleprotector of the rights of rich and poor alike!

A young priest told me here that the clergy about this place wereopposed to the teachings of the Land League--did not countenance itamong their people. A Catholic gentleman in Roscommon told me the sameconcerning the bishop and clergy of his own locality. 

The tillage about Galway is careful and good, what there is of it. I sawgreat fields of wheat that had been cleared of stones, by generations oflabor I should say. I had this fact brought to my mind by some peasantsin the neighborhood of Athenry, in this way: "A man works and his familyworks on a bit of ground fencing it, improving it, gathering off thestones; as he improves his rent is raised; he clings to the little home;he gets evicted and disappears into the grave or the workhouse, andanother takes the land at the higher rent; improves from that point; hasthe rent raised, till he too falls behind and is evicted; and so it goeson till the lands are fit for meadowing and grass, and the holdings arerun together and the homes blotted out. " Of course I do not give theman's words exactly, but I give his thoughts exactly. 

Galway was something of a disappointment to me at first, it had not sucha foreign look as I expected. It is a very busy town, has everyappearance of being a thriving town, every one you meet walks withpurpose as of one who has business to attend to. It is refreshing to seethis after looking at the hopeless faces and lounging gait of the peopleof many places in the west. Wherever the tall chimneys rise the peoplehave a quick step and an all-alive look. 

I wandered about Galway, and to my great delight had a guide to pointout what was most worth looking at. Of course I heard of the bravery ofthe thirteen tribes of Galway, who snapped up Galway from theO'Flaherties and assimilated themselves to the natives as more Irishthan themselves. After walking about a little I did notice the archedgateways and the highly ornamented entrance doors which they concealed. 

The first place of interest pointed out to me was Lynch castle. From oneof the windows of this castle Warder Lynch, in 1493, hung his own son. It is said from this act the name Lynch Law arose. The Lynch family, originally Lintz, came from Lintz in Austria. 

This mayor or Warder Lynch was a wealthy merchant trading with Spain. Hetrusted his son to go thither and purchase a cargo of wine. The youngman fell into dissipation, and spent the money, buying the cargo oncredit. The nephew of the Spanish merchant accompanied the ship toobtain the money, and arrange for further business. The devil temptedthe young Lynch to hide his folly by committing crime. Near the Galwaycoast the young Spaniard was thrown overboard. All the friends of thefamily and his father received the young merchant after his successfulvoyage with great joy. The father consented to his son's marriage withhis early love, the daughter of a neighbor, who gladly consented toaccept the successful young merchant for his son-in-law. All went merryas a marriage bell. Just before the marriage a confessor was sent for toa sick seaman, who revealed young Lynch's crime. The Warder of Galwaystood at the bed of this dying man, and heard of the villany of hisbeloved son. Young Lynch was arrested, tried, found guilty, andsentenced. The mother of young Lynch, having exhausted all efforts toobtain mercy for her son, flew in distraction to the Blake tribe--shewas a Blake--and raised the whole clan for a rescue. When the hour ofexecution dawned, the castle was surrounded by the armed clan of theBlakes, demanding that the prisoner be spared for the honor of thefamily. The Warder addressed the crowd, entreating them to submit to themajesty of the law, but in vain. He led his son--who, when he had bornethe shame, and came to feel the guilt of his deeds, had no desire tolive--up the winding stair in the building to that very arched windowthat overlooks the street, and there, to that iron staple that is fixedin the wall, he hung him with his own hands, after embracing him, insight of all the people. The father expected to die by the hands of theangry crowd below, but they, awed, went home at a dead march. The motherdied of the shock, and the sternly just old man lived on. I looked athis house in Lombard street. Over the entrance is a skull and crossbones in relief on black marble, with this motto, which I copied, "REMEMBER DEATH Vanitie of vanities, and all is but vanitie. "

There is a fine museum in Queen's College, Galway, which I did not see. Of course there are many things I did not see, although my eyes were onhard duty while there. I did see specimens of that most beautiful marbleof Connemara. It is worked up into ornaments, in some cases mounted withsilver. As soon as any one enquires for it they are known to be fromAmerica. A book shaped specimen that I coveted was priced at twelve andsixpence. It is there yet for me. It is of every shade and tint ofgreen, and is really very lovely. I saw many specimens of itmanufactured into harps stringed and set in silver, with a silverscroll, and the name of Davitt or Parnell on them in green enamel. Therewere brooches and scarf pins of this kind. I did not notice the name ofthe great Liberator among these ornaments. 

The Claddagh was a great disappointment to me. I heard that it was notsafe to venture into it alone. I got up early and had sunshine with mewhen I strolled through the Claddagh. I saw no extreme poverty there. Most of the houses were neatly whitewashed; all were superior to thehuts among the ruins at Athenry. The people were very busy, verycomfortably clothed, and, in a way, well-to-do looking. Some of thehouses were small and windowless, something the shape of a beehive, butnot at all forlornly squalid. They make celebrated fleecy flannel herein Claddagh. They make and mend nets. They fish. I saw some swarthy menof foreign look, in seamen's clothes, standing about. You will seebeauty here of the swarthy type, accompanied by flashing black eyes andblue black hair, but I saw lasses with lint white locks also in theCladdagh. The testimony of all here is that the Claddagh people are aquiet, industrious, temperate and honest race of people. I am inclinedto believe that myself. It is a pretty large district and I wanderedthrough it without hearing one loud or one profane word. I was agreeablydisappointed in the Claddagh. Claddagh has a church and large school ofits own. 

They told me that the Galway coast has the same flowers as the coast ofSpain. I can testify that flowers abound in little front gardens, andwindow panes, and in boxes on every window ledge. I did not go to seethe iodine works, where this substance is manufactured from sea weed. Isaw people burning kelp--and smelled them too--on the Larne andCarnlough coast and in Mayo. They burn the dried sea weed in long narrowplaces built of stone. They are not kilns, but are more like them thananything else I know of. You see stacks and ropes of the sea weed put upto dry. Kelp burning is not a fragrant occupation, and its manufactureis not specially attractive. 

I think Galway is a very prosperous thriving town. I went to the bathingplace of Salt Hill, a long suburb of pretty cottages, mostly to be letfurnished to sea bathers. I should have gone on to Cushla Bay and to theislands of Arran, but I did not. I looked round me and returned toGalway. 

There is difference perceptible to me, but hardly describable betweenthe Galway men and the rest of the West. The expression of face amongthe Donegal peasantry is a patience that waits. The Mayo men seemdispirited as the Leitrim men also do, but are capable of flashing upinto desperation. The Galway men seem never to have been tamed. Theferocious O'Flaherties, the fierce tribes of Galway, the dark Spanishblood, have all left their marks on and bequeathed their spirit to themen of Galway. I met one or two who, like some of the Puritans, believedthat killing was not murder, who urged that if the law would not detergreat men from wrong-doing it should not protect them. 

When trade revives and prosperity dawns upon the West the fierce blood, like the Norman blood elsewhere, will go out in enterprise and spenditself in improvements. 

Land was pointed out to me in Galway for which L4 an acre was paid byvillage people to plant potatoes in. This is called conacre. In goingthrough Galway City, even in the suburbs, I did not see great appealingpoverty such as I saw elsewhere. There was the bustle of work and theindependence of work everywhere, but in the country, there seems povertymixed with the fierce impatience of seeing no better way to mendmatters. I heard of evictions having taken place here and there, but sawnone. 

LII. 

THE LAKES OF KILLARNEY. 

There is a good deal of disturbance about Limerick, according to thepapers. A traveller would never discover it. It does not appear on thesurface. I have been a little here and there in the environs ofLimerick, and have seen no sign of any mob or any disturbance. Police goout unexpectedly to do eviction service and it is only known when thereport comes in the papers. 

I did not hear in Limerick town or county, in any place where I happenedto be, of any landlord who had got renown for any special hardness. There was a person boycotted quite near to the city who was getting helpfrom neighboring landowners to gather in his crops. What his offence wasI did not learn. 

In Limerick I met with an old and very dear friend who gave me a fewfacts about boycotting as seen in personal experience. An outlying farmwas taken by my friend from which a widow lady had been evicted beforethe present agitation commenced. A premium of L100 was paid forpossession. My friends had congratulated themselves on this transactionhaving occurred before the organization of the Land League; but onenight an armed and masked party took the widow lady and reinstated herin her place. My friends were startled a little by a visit from thisparty, who informed them that they were returning from reinstating thelady in her place. Had they any objection? No, they had no objection. Would they disturb her in possession? No, they would not disturb her inpossession. If they had only the L100 which they had invested they werequite willing to surrender the farm. Three cheers were given for myfriends, three cheers for the widow lady, a gun was fired off, there wasa wild cheer for Rory of the Hills, and they disappeared. The widow ladyafter some time quietly left the place of her own accord, and everythingwas as it had been before. They, the armed party, found out that theywere not doing the lady a kindness by reinstating her, and so the matterended. 

Limerick, though an old city, is not a very large one. Going down theprincipal street--George's street--you can look down any of the crossstreets beyond the masts on Shannon and see on the other side of theriver oats, waving yellow and in stocks, up the slope. Standing on theWellesley Bridge, where young Fitzgibbon in bronze stands on a granitepedestal, perpetually endeavoring to draw his sword--which he succeededin drawing to some purpose at Alma and Inkerman, if we are to credit thepedestal, which we do--you can look down the Shannon, over the boats andamong the steamboat chimneys and the ships' masts, and see the greenbanks of the Shannon, broad and wide, with cattle standing ankle deep inthe rich pasture. You can see them as they extend far away, widening asthey go, till the horizon shuts out any farther view. The constant rainof these two last months, I am afraid, will damage the ripening crop. Itis near the close of August and there is hay yet uncut, there is haylying out in every form of bleached windrow, or lap, or spread, underthe rain. Some of it looks quite spoiled. 

No one, I suppose, leaves Limerick without gazing at and perhaps wishingfor some of the beautiful specimens of Limerick lace that are displayedin the shop-windows. 

From Limerick to Killarney in the rain through a country graduallygrowing poorer. At the junction there was a detention which enabled meto walk about a little. There was a detachment of police that filled acouple of car passing on their way to eviction in one direction; a largedetachment returning from eviction got out of the cars here. Eviction inthis part of Ireland is feverishly active, and on every hand you hear ofMr. Clifford Lloyd. A person with whom I had some conversation told me Icould have no idea of the state of the country without penetratingthrough it away from the line of rail. Of course this is so. 

As we neared Killarney the waters were out over the low lying lands andthe hay looked pitiful. In a pelting rain we steamed into Killarney, passed through the army of cabmen and their allies and were whirled awayto Lakeview House on the banks of the lower Killarney lake, a prettyplace standing in its own grounds. Killarney is a nice little town withsome astonishing buildings. I have heard it styled as a dirty town; itstruck me as both clean and rather stylish in its general appearance. Itseems to depend almost entirely on tourists. Unlike Limerick, unlikeGalway, but very like other western towns the number of people standingidly at the corners, or leaning against a tree to shelter from the rain, strikes a stranger painfully. The lounging gait and alert eyes markpeople who have no settled industry, but are watching their chance. 

We were allured to Lakeview Hotel by a printed card of terms and foundit delightfully situated. Did not intend to linger here any time, didnot seem to care much for the lakes now when I had got to see them. Itwas a damp evening, the mountains, that loom up on every hand, werewrapped in their gray cloaks, the lake whipped up by the squally windshad risen in swells and everything looked dismal. I shall see some oneconvenient sight and look round me and leave in the morning, I said. 

The only available sight to be seen that night was Torc Cascade--well, Iwill be content with that. I must take a car; bargained for that, anddrove through the walled-up country. Every place here is walled up, enclosed, fenced in. I noticed some cottages that were pictures ofrustic beauty, others that were dirty hovels. The pretty cottages wereoccupied by laborers on the estates that border on the lake. Passed ahandsome, little Episcopalian church in a sheltered place; near it weretwo monumental crosses of the ancient Irish pattern, erected by thetenants to the memory of Mr. Herbert, who was their landlord and who isspoken of by the people as one who deserved that they should devote someof their scant earnings to raise a cross to his memory. 

In due time we arrived at a little door in the wall, where a man stoodin Mr. Herbert's interest, who gave a small ticket for sixpence, unlocked the little arched door and admitted the stranger into thistemple of nature and art. A board hung on a tree was the first object, warning visitors not to pluck ferns or flowers, the man at the gatehaving notice to deprive marauding visitors of anything so gathered. There is a winding gravel walk leading up the height almost alongside ofthe brawling stream that leaps from rock to rock. I did not see anyflowers at all, but the common heather bell in two varieties and thelarge coarse fern so common in our Canadian woods. There are manycascades unnamed and unnoticed in our Canadian forests as handsome asTorc Cascade. When you get up a good way you come to a black fence thatbars the way. You are above the tall firs, and the solemn Torc Mountainrises far above you. I would have been lost in admiration had I neverseen the upper Ottawa or the River aux Lievres. Feeling no inclinationto commit petty larceny on the ferns, I descended slowly and returned. 

The ruined abbey of Muckross is another of the sights of Killarney. Every visitor pays a shilling to Mr. Herbert for permission to enterhere. I did not go to see it, but some of the party at the hotel did. They described the cloisters as being in a good state of preservation--cloisters are a kind of arched piazza running round a court yard, inthis case having in its centre a magnificent yew tree. These ruins aretaken great care of, therefore parts of the abbey are in a pretty goodstate of preservation. They tell of a certain man named John Drake, whotook possession of the abbey kitchen about one hundred years ago, livedthere as a hermit for about eleven years in the odor of sanctity. 

There was quite a party going through the gap of Dunloe, which reducedthe price of the trip to very little, comparatively speaking, and I waspersuaded to join it. Every available spot about here has a lordlytower, a lady's bower, an old ruin or a new castle. The Workhouse isfine enough and extensive enough for a castle, and the Lunatic Asylummight be a palace for a crowned head. There are the ruins of AghadonCastle on one ridge and the shrunk remains of a round tower. A brotherof the great O'Connell lives here in a white house bearing the same nameas the hotel, Lakeview House. We look with some interest at DunloeCastle. Once the residence of O'Sullivan Mor, and listen to the car-manwho tells us of the glories of the three great families that ownedKerry, O'Sullivan Mor, O'Sullivan Bear and great O'Donoghoe. 

Of course we hear legend after legend of the threadbare tales of theLakes. We heard much of the cave of Dunloe which has many records, inthe Ogham character, of Ireland in the days of the Druids. All this timewe were driving along a road with bare mountains, and tree-coveredmountains rising on every hand. It reminded me in some places of thelong glen in Leitrim, in others of Canadian scenes among the mountains. We began to be beset by mounted men on scrubby ponies. They gatheredround us, riding along as our escort, behind and before and alongsideurging on us the necessity of a pony to cross the road through the gap. Their pertinacity was something wonderful. 

The carman stopped at a miserable cabin said to have been the residenceof the Kate Kearney of Lady Morgan's song. That heroine's modernrepresentative expects everyone to take a dose of goat's milk in poteenfrom her, and leave some gratuity in return. The whole population turnedout to beg under some pretext or another. One very handsome girl, bareheaded and barefooted, and got up light and airy as to costume, begged unblushingly without any excuse. She gathered up her lightdrapery with one hand, and kept up with the horse, skelping alongthrough mud and mire as if she liked it. I noticed that she was set onby her parents who were the occupiers of a little farm. 

Suddenly our car stopped at a house where all sorts of lake curiositieswere exposed for sale. From this point it was four miles, Irish miles, through the gap to the lake to the point where we took the boat. Thiswas one circumstance of which we were not aware when we started; it wastherefore a surprize. I am sorry to say that this gap was adisappointment to me. It was a difficult path among bare mountains, butnothing startling or uncommon. 

What was uncommon was the relays of indefatigable women that lay in waitfor us at every turn. Goats' milk and poteen, photographs, knittedsocks, carved knick-nacks in bog oak; everything is offered for sale;denial will not be taken. You pass one detachment to come upon anotherlurking in ambush at a corner. There are men with small cannons who willwake the echoes for a consideration; there are men with key bugles whowill wake the echoes more musically for a consideration; there is theblind fiddler of the gap who fiddles away in hopes of intercepting somestray pennies from the shower. One impudent woman followed us for quitea way to sell us her photograph, as the photograph of Eily O'Connor, murdered here by her lover many years ago--murdered not at the gap butin the lake. There was a large party of us and these followers, horse, foot and artillery, I may say were a persistent nuisance all the way. The ponies, crowds of them, followed us to the entrance of the Gap, where they disappeared, but the women and girls never faltered for thefive miles. The reiterated and re-reiterated offer of goat's milk andpoteen became exasperating; the bodyguard of these pertinacious womenthat could not be shaken off was most annoying. The tourists are to theinhabitants of Killarney what a wreck used to be to the coast people ofCornwall, a God-send. 

One does feel inclined to lose all patience as they run the gauntlethere, and then one looks around at the miserable cabins built of loosestones, at the thatch held on by ropes weighted with stones, the same asare to be seen in Achil Island, among the Donegal hills, or the longglens of Leitrim, notices the patches of pale, sickly, stunted oats, thelittle corners of pinched potatoes--a girl passed us with a tin dish ofpotatoes for the dinner, they were little bigger than marbles--thelittle rickles of turf that the constant rain is spoiling, and one seesthat as there is really no industry in the place, of loom or factory, that want and encouragement have combined to make them come down likethe wolf on the fold to the attack of tourists. It spoiled the view, itdestroyed any pleasure the scenery might have afforded, and yet underthe circumstances it was natural enough on their part. "We depend on thetourists, this is our harvest, " the carmen explained to us. From thehotel keeper to the beggar all depend on the tourist season. 

After all it was something to have passed through between theMacgillicuddy's Reeks and the purple mountain; something to see waterlike spun silver flinging itself from the mountain top in leaps to thevalley below, to struggle up and up to the highest point of the gap andlook back at the serpentine road winding in and out beside small stilllakes through the valley far below. Of course we look into the BlackLough where St. Patrick imprisoned the last snake. Of course we hadpointed out to us the top of Mangerton, and were told of the devil'spunch bowl up there. Down through the Black Valley we came to the pointwhere the boats waited for us, leaving the black rocks, the baremountains, the poor little patches of tillage, the miserable huts andthe multitudinous vendors of goat's milk and poteen behind. To oursurprise the way to the boats was barred by a gate, and at the gatestood a man of Mr. Herbert's to receive a shilling for each passengerbefore they could pass to the boats. "He makes a good thing out of it, "remarked the boatmen. I do not know how many more fees are to be paidfor a look about the lakes of Killarney, but this gate, Torc Cascade andMuckross Abbey cost each tourist two shillings and sixpence to look atthem. 

The upper lake is beautiful, fenced around by mountains of every sizeand variety of appearance. Of course they are the same mountains youhave been seeing all day, but seen from a different standpoint. TheEagle's Nest towers up like an attenuated pyramid, partly clothed withtrees, and is grand enough and high enough for the eagles to build onits summit, which they do. Here were men stationed to wake the echoeswith the bugle. As our boat swept round, recognizing that we had notemployed them, they ceased the strain until we passed, but the echoesfollowed us and insisted on being heard. 

There are many, many spots on the Upper Ottawa as fair and as romanticas the Lakes of Killarney, and they are very lovely. The trees on theislands have a variety that do not grow in our Canada, principally theglossy-leaved arbutus. From the upper lake we slid down a baby rapidunder an old bridge--built by the Danes of course, the arch formed asthe arches of the castles in the west--into the middle lake. 

The day had been one of dim showers, but in the middle lake the sunstreamed out and touched the peak of the purple mountain and all themountain sides and woody islands with splendor, that streamed down ingolden shafts along the rain that was falling on some, and chased for amoment the shadows that lay on others. We slid down a fainter rapidunder another bridge into the last and largest lake. On every lake thereare buildings of glory and beauty to be seen nestling on the banks amongthe trees, or towering on the heights, owned by the wealthy and titledpeople that own the land round the lakes. A cottage built for HerMajesty was pointed out to us, and we heard of a royal deer hunt heldhere. We heard rapturous accounts of stags hunted to the verge of death, and saved alive to repeat the ennobling sport. And we censure withoutmeasure the Spanish bull fight where the animals are killed once! Howmany deaths do these timid deer suffer? I am afraid we are not as nobleand merciful a people as we think we are. 

There are sights to be seen and tales to be heard about these lakes ofloveliness that would occupy weeks, but a glimpse and away must sufficefor some, and our party all left Killarney on the next morning. I mustsay that the wealth and the poverty, the unblushing begging, the want ofany remunerative industry, the idle listless people about the corners, made Killarney a sad place to me. 

LIII. 

CORK AND ITS NEIGHBORHOOD. 

After returning from the lakes the rain came down in such torrents asmade us feel very thankful to be indoors again. We heard it raining allthrough the night as if the days of Noah were returned once more. Everyone became anxious about the harvest in consequence of this steady rain. The bishop has recommended prayer in all the Catholic churches forseasonable weather to save the harvest. Murmurs of the appearance ofrot in the potatoes reach me frequently. I have noticed disease in thepotatoes appearing on the dinner table, a kind of dry rot, only to benoticed after cutting the potato. 

From Killarney to Cahirciveen is forty-five miles; beyond that is theisland of Valentia. There are many wild views to be seen on this island, the property of the Knight of Kerry. The traveller here can notice howthe Atlantic is wearing away the Kerry coast. 

The first part of this drive of forty-five miles is through a poor, poverty-stricken country, with such cabins of mud and misery as are anamusement to the tourist and a pain and a shame to the Irish lover ofhis country. There is nothing about these habitations to hint that anyidea of comfort had ever penetrated here. For the reason of pelting rainand driving winds I was forced to give up my intention of going acrossby car to Kenmare, and from thence to Skibbereen, and took the train forCork. The land seems to grow better the nearer we come to Cork. 

Arrived at Cork, the first object which attracted my attention was themonument to Father Mathew. The temperance cause to which he dedicatedhis life sadly needs another champion. Will another Father Mathew arise?

As soon after my arrival in Cork as I was comfortably settled, I salliedout to discover the river Lee with an insane notion that I would hear"the bells of Shandon that sound so grand on" its pleasant waters. Idiscovered the river with tree-shaded, secluded dwellings on one bankand a wide green pasture on another. There was a bridge at the placewhere I first came in sight of the river, and a great crowd, so eager asto be silent, gazing up the stream. Thinking it was a boat race thatdrew their attention, I crossed the bridge to gain the green pasture atthe other side. The pasture was reached by a little arched door througha boundary wall, where a policeman kept guard. There was a great crowdaround this little door. There had been an accident, a boat had upsetand all in it had been lost; they were searching for the bodies. I askedfor admittance and the policeman unlocked the door and allowed me topass. Followed the path along the water side, and came to the crowdround the four bodies laid upon the wet meadow grass. A father, soquiet, partially gray, trim and respectable looking, a young lad in blueboating costume, a young girl in black, farther on another in whom theythought there were signs of life, and about her two doctors wereworking, applying a galvanic battery. The mother had been restored andwas conveyed into one of the houses. 

I never saw any attempts to recover a drowned person before. I wonderedthat they left the body lying on the damp earth in wet clothing. Theytold me that it might be fatal to move her before they succeeded inbringing her back to life. They tried a long time in vain, then theylaid the four bodies all in a row for the coroner. The damp grass, thetrampling and sympathetic crowd, the four bodies in their wet garmentslaid on the bank, will always rise in my memory along with my firstsight of the river Lee. 

Cork seems a rich city, full of business, bustle on all the wharves, buying and selling on all the streets. The buildings are very grand. Alongside the river is a long ridge rising up to a tree-crowned summit. On that hillside is tier upon tier of grand houses, grand churches, fineconvents and public buildings of one kind and another. You come uponfine churches through the town in corners where you do not expect them. 

The church of churches in Cork is the Protestant Cathedral, of St. FinnBarre--whoever he was. This church sits high up on a rocky foundation, its pointed spires of exquisite stone-work pierce the sky. It is notfinished, scaffoldings are there, and skilled chisels and cunninghammers have been knapping and polishing there for many a day, and arelikely to continue hammering and chiselling for many a day more. Inside, it is marble of Cork, marble of Connemara, marble of Italy, polished tothe brightest. The gates which admit from one ecclesiastical division toanother are wrought in flowers that blaze in gold. Before the altar, parables of our Lord are wrought in mosaic on the floor. On the wall thedifferent noble families who belong here, or have money invested here, have their shields containing their coats of arms on the wall. Into thisgrand church have been wrought the religious ideas of the church peoplefor years, at the cost of L100, 000, and there is an immense golden angelon the point of a gable calling with two trumpets for L25, 000 more tofinish it. 

None but a rich city could afford the splendid buildings that are inCork. The evening on which I arrived in Cork was signalized not only bythe boat accident, but by a grand wedding, the wedding of a Sir GeorgeColthurst in the splendid cathedral church just mentioned, and there wasany amount of fashion, and high birth and young beauty gathered there. The bride was beautiful, the bride was "tall, " and not yet, they say, out of her teens. She was dressed in white satin and silver cloth, Irishlace and orange blossoms, and wore no jewels. None but invited eyes wereallowed to look at the grand ceremony which made the fair bride and thelord of Blarney castle one. Some tenants of the bridegroom got up abonfire, had some barrels of beer given them to rejoice withal, and weredancing to the music produced by six fiddlers, when they were surroundedby a small army of disguised people, fired into, beaten and dispersed. The first accounts put the number of wounded at twenty, to-day they arereduced to five--perhaps that is the proportion of exaggeration innewspaper accounts of outrage generally. The newly-made bride andbridegroom went to see the wounded, leaving cordials and money at everyhouse. 

One thing is observable in Cork, the determination to make an effort torestore native industry from its present languishing condition. Passingalong the streets I notice clerks in the windows affixing labels ongoods with the words, "Irish Manufactures, " "Cork made goods, " "Blarneytweeds, " "Irish blankets, " "Cork made furniture. " There have beenmeetings held on the subject since I came here. No city in the worldcould appear to be more quiet and law-abiding than Cork to allappearance. 

As one instance of the exaggeration of reports concerning outrages, Isee the disturbance in Cork that took place at the rejoicings about SirGeorge Colthurst's marriage advertised with the heading 20 men shot. Thelocal report says five injured, one shot, but not fatally. 

Went down the river Lee to Queenstown. It did not rain except a fewdrops during the whole time. The sun shone, the clouds, some of themwere billowy and white, and massed themselves on a deep, blue sky. Thelittle steamer was crowded fore and aft with holiday passengers, and alarge quantity of small babies. The river Lee, from Cork to Queenstown, wears a green color, as if it were akin to the ocean. Flocks of seagulls flying about, or perching on the ooze where the tide is out, makeone think of the sea, but the green banks of the river are there totestify against it. 

We expected to find that the scenery from Cork to Queenstown wasbeautiful, and so it is. There is no use in trying to praise it, for allpraise seems flat compared with the reality. There are glorious, steepslopes leading up to fair, round hills, waving with golden grain, orgreen with aftermath, checked off into fields by gay, green hedges orfiles of stately trees. On the slope, half way up the slope, snugglingdown at the foot of the slope, are residences of every degree of beauty. Houses, square and solid, with wide porticos; houses rising into manygabled peaks; houses that have swollen into all sorts of bay windowsrunning up to the roof, or stopping with the first story. Houses thatfling themselves up into the sky in towers and turrets, and assertthemselves to be, indeed, castles. 

Queenstown comes at last, a town hung up on a steep hillside, and on thevery brow of the hill is an immense cathedral, unfinished like St. FinnBarre's, of Cork. In these cathedrals two forms of religious belief areslowly and expensively trying to express themselves in stone, chiselledand cut into a thousand forms of beauty, in marbles, polished andcarved, in painted windows, in gildings and draperies of the costliest. Looking at these costly fanes erected to be a local spot where Jehovah'spresence shall dwell, one can scarcely believe that He will dwell in theheart of the poor who are willing to receive Him in the day of Hispower. Is the soul of the beggar more dear to God as a dwelling placethan these lofty temples? Forever the world is saying "Lord, behold whatmanner of stones and what buildings are here?" And the Lord cares morefor the toiling fisherman, the poor disheartened widow, and the laboringand heavy laden peasant than the grandest buildings. The cost of thesechurches would buy out Achil island and the appurtenances thereof, Ithink. It would maybe purchase the wildest tract of the Donegalmountains. I wonder if a hardy mountain people, who could live on theirown soil, and begin to feel the stirrings of enterprise and energy, would be as acceptable to Him who came anointed to preach the gospel tothe poor as these poems in stone. Who knows?

We sat on a bench under the trees and looked at the harbor--its waterscut by many a flying keel, at Spike Island lying in the sun, all itsfortifications as silent and lonely looking as if no convict nor anyother living creature was there. Steamboats for "a' the airts the windscan blaw, " were passing out and away, leaving a train of smoke behindthem, and big sail vessels, three-masted and with sails packed up, arewaiting to go, and revenue cutters and small passenger boats are flyingabout each on their way. 

A lady sits by me and is drawn to talk to the stranger of the greennessof the grass here winter and summer, of the beauty spread out allaround. She tells of one who died away in another land brought home tolie under the daisies here, just twenty years ago to-day. Other people, she says, are proud of their country, are fond of their country, butnone have the same love for their country as the Irish have for greenErin. Every inch of ground; every blade of grass in Ireland is holy, says this lady with tears in her eyes. She is thinking of the dust thatIrish grass covers from her sight. It is on an anniversary we meet; shecannot help speaking on this day of sacred things. The steamboat iswading up to the wharf. We do not know one another's names, but we havedrawn near to each other--we clasp hands and part with a mutual Godbless you. The little boat swallows up all that are willing to come onboard, and like a black swan she sails up over the calm river, under thebright sky, past the handsome houses and the lovely grounds, among theclustering masts back to the rich city of Cork. 

All the people injured in the attack on the rejoicing at Sir GeorgeColthurst's marriage are pronounced recovered to-day, except the one whowas wounded by a shot; he is still in the infirmary. A dignitary of theCatholic Church who preached at Millstreet, where the disturbance tookplace, introduced into his sermon remarks on the state of society there, when his hearers became affected with coughing to such a degree that therev. Gentleman had to stop for a time and speak directly to his hearers. After the sermon most of the congregation left the church before mass--few remaining. 

The sun has come out and the harvest will be greatly benefited by thistardy warmth, I am sure. 

There has been some marching of soldiers--dragoons--fine looking men onfine horses--through the streets to-day, to the blare of a militaryband, accompanied and escorted by all the loose population of Cork. Iwas much interested to see among the running crowd the good pace made bya man with a wooden leg, who really could hop along with the best ofthem. This is all the apology for a crowd which I have seen in Cork. Ihave not heard the roar of one belated drunkard; such sounds have brokenslumber in other towns. Whatever excitement may be in the county, thecity of Cork seems as quiet, as orderly and as thriving as any city inthe kingdom. 

I have discovered that, though the lower part of the river Lee iscrowded with masts and alive with traffic, the upper part, flowing alongunder the shadow of green trees and bordered by wide meadows, is asquiet as if it were flowing through the country miles from any city. Ihave discovered the magnificent promenade called the Mardyke, a wide, gravelled road overarched with trees, running along by the river. Whenthe evening lamps are lit, the susceptibility of Cork wander here inpairs and "in couples agree. " There are plenty of comfortable seats inwhich to rest, for the promenade is a very long one, and the shimmer ofthe many lamps among the green foliage has a pretty effect. 

LIV. 

CORK, TO BANDON, SKIBBEREEN AND SKULL. 

From Cork by the new railway to Skibbereen there is one rathernoticeable feature by the way. All the way stations in small places arewooden houses built American fashion, either clapboarded or uprightboards battened where they meet. The road is through a hilly country andtherefore lies mostly through deep cuttings that shut out the scenery. There is one long tunnel not far from Cork that educates you into asense of what utter darkness means. It is pleasant to look over richpastures back to the city crowding its lofty hills, and to notice what agrand steeple-crowned city it is. 

The train crawls along through deep cuts, past these little woodenstations where everything is more primitive and backwoods looking thananything I have seen before in Ireland. The porters are civil andobliging, ready to answer the questions of the ignorant, even of thosewho travel third-class. The vast majority of the passengers are smalltraders, market-women and farmers' wives, who have been away makingpurchases. 

By the time we reach Dunmanway we had our allowance of light served outto us, a lamp being thrust through the ceiling of the car from the top, and by its light we steamed into Skibbereen. I expected Skibbereen to bea small assemblage of mud huts, but was surprised to find it a largetown of tall houses. As the bus rattled along through one gaslightstreet after another, I kept asking myself, is this really Skibbereen. 

The little hotel where we stopped was very comfortable, very clean, andpossesses a good cook. The next day in exploring the by streets andsuburbs of the town I saw poverty enough, want enough. It was market dayand the streets were crowded with country women in blue cloaks. Thesecloaks are all the same make, but some of them, owing to their material, were very stylish and shrouded as pretty black eyed, black-haired, rosy-cheeked women as I ever saw. Some of these cloaks are made of very finematerial, the pleating about the shoulders very artistic, and the widehoods lined with black satin when worn round the face make the wearerslook like fancy pictures. Some of the women gather them round them infolds like drapery. I noticed at once that the artist who made thestatues of O'Connell and Father Mathew had studied the drapery from thecloaks of some Claddagh or Skibbereen woman. 

Market day is used as a day for confession, and the clergy are on hardduty on that day. Skibbereen boasts of a bishop and numerous residentpriests. The town is as quiet as if such a thing as a riot, an outrageor a mob was never known. 

In a little corner, squeezed in between houses, is a neat Methodistchapel and the parsonage beside it. Called on the minister, who receivedme graciously and was courteous and communicative. Having been by virtueof his office over a great part of Ireland he had seen a good deal ofthe oppression of the tenant, partly from the thoughtlessness ofabsentee landlords, partly from the want of any sympathy with thetenants. Had the Land League confined themselves to moderate efforts, and to the employment of constitutional means--means not tending to thedismemberment of the empire, he would have joined them with heart andsoul, knowing the need there was of redress to the wrongs of the smallfarmer. He advised me to take a car and go on to Skull throughBallydehob if I wished to see poverty and misery. 

The road from Skibbereen to Ballydehob and Skull runs along the coastmostly. All that grand rocks and great stretches of water dotted withmany islands can do to make this scenery grand, wild and romantic hasbeen done by Dame Nature. It is not satisfying to merely pass along. Onewould like to tarry here and get acquainted with nature in these out-of-the-way haunts of hers. The cottages are most miserable, most ruinous. There is no limestone here. It resembles Achil Island in this respect. The houses are built of stones and daubed with clay. The clay soonfilters away under the combined action of winter wind and winter frost, and the houses look like piles of stones tottering to fall. 

I heard of a pier being built somewhere here, with part of the Canadianmoney, which a priest assured me would be a great benefit to the poorpeople. I was very sorry to leave this part without seeing more of thecountry and the people. I left Skibbereen on a car for a journey by thecoast the other way to meet the train at Bandon to return to Cork. 

The only industry of any kind which I saw between Skibbereen and Bandonwas a slate quarry which they told me shipped a great quantity of slatesbesides supplying local demands. As we advanced eastward we left theheather-clad mountains behind us, the landscape softened downconsiderably, and became almost empty of inhabitants. That reminds methat about Skull was almost emptied of inhabitants also. About the timeof the great famine the people fled away. The remains of houses arescattered all along on that road. Some cause has also emptied this partof the country of people. There is much unreclaimed land here, which isnot to be wondered at, seeing that a fine for reclamation was exacted inthe shape of increased rent. 

Clonakilty is another little town thronged with small traders and places"licensed to sell. " As we passed east the long boundary walls thatenclose gentlemen's plantations begin to prevail. 

A little way, maybe two miles, out of Clonakilty is the property of Mr. Bence Jones, who has created some stir in the world. One hears storyafter story of his grasping and overbearing disposition. The chiefaccusation is adding to a man's rent if his father dies. Case after caseof this was spoken of by the passengers on the car with me. Whetherthese accusations against Mr. Bence Jones were true or false, here ishis place, and a very fine place it is. The lodge is at one side of theroad, the entrance to his residence at the other. The residence is verynice, very commodious, and is at some distance from the road. Theproperty is extensive, but very poor land--mountain and bog. His walled-in plantation ran along the road for quite a great distance. When theyspoke of him on the car the mere mention of his name caused the driverto lose himself in profanity. 

From Clonakilty to Bandon was a long, dreary drive, and the night hadfallen for some time, sharp and chill, before we entered the second timeinto merry Bandon town. It is quite a large place, and, entered byanother way than the railway, looks bright and pleasant. The houses arelofty on the principal streets, and the whole town has a scatteredappearance. It was a welcome sight to us, weary of travelling by car, and visions of a warm fire and a good supper--for I had travelled frombreakfast without waiting to eat--ran in my head; but it was Saturdaynight, a train was almost due for Cork, and, contenting myself with anafter-night glimpse of merry Bandon town, I came to the ponderousstation, and started in due time for Cork. 

At one of the first way stations, where is the little clapboardedwaiting-room, two policemen entered our compartment with a prisoner. Whether he was a suspect or was charged with a specific crime we did notlearn, but surely such a poor scare-crow never was arrested before. Hewas black with dirt, as if he had been taken out of the bog, or from acoal-pit. His clothes were thin and ragged, and he had such a fierce, desperate look. The policemen fraternized with their fellow-passengersand chatted merrily. The prisoner listened to their talk with a kind ofdumb fierceness, shaking his head from side to side as I have seen anangry horse do. It was very chilly, and he was so miserably clad that heshivered, though he tried not to do so. 

The way was long by train, and he might have marched for many a wearymile before he got on the train. He lay down on the seat and tried tosleep but could not, so he started up and resumed the wild glancing fromside to side and the fierce head shakes. I began to think he might bevery hungry, and if he was, he was not likely to get anything in gaoltill morning. I had some biscuits and cheese in my satchel, and theybegan to struggle to get out, and at last I consented and handed thelittle parcel silently to the prisoner. He did not thank me, except byfalling to and eating like a famished creature. 

Arrived at Cork, the police took him away on a car, and the last glimpseI got of him he was eating as if he had not eaten before for a week. 

I was very thankful when Sabbath morning found me in Cork again and withpower to rest. There is not much appearance of Sabbath in the streets ofCork; it looks like a vast crowd keeping holiday. A great many shops areopen; the stall women are in their places and seem to drive a goodtrade. I even heard a woman crying her wares as on any other day. I donot think that a little more Sabbath would hurt this fair town in thevery least. I rested this day. 

In the evening I had the pleasure of hearing "the bells of Shandon"ringing the people in to worship in the old Shandon Church. I heard themwhile walking by "the pleasant waters of the river Lee. " I followedtheir chime and enjoyed it, sweetly solemn and grand it was, and thoughtof Father Prout who has made them so famous, and finally found myself atShandon church. 

When the chimes ceased I went up the high steps into the old church. Itis very old. It is high, long and narrow. The tower, in which are thefamous bells, seems of better workmanship than the church. It is builtin stories. The bells were chiming out, "Oh, that will be joyful!" as Ientered. It is a nice, homely, comfortable church; but so plain that thetide of fashion has rolled past it into another quarter of the town. Thepulpit and reading-desk were supplied by a gray-haired clergyman, whohad power to read the service, so that it had a newness as if it hadnever been heard before and to preach to the heart. With the echo of hiswords and the echo of the bells of Shandon the Sabbath closed. 

LV. 

THE SOUTH--THE FEELING OF THE PEOPLE--EVICTIONS AND THE LAND LAW. 

In conversing with a very sensible gentleman in Cork, he mentioned thecompetition among the farmers themselves as one reason of the highrents. I have heard this brought forward again and again in every partof Ireland. It is difficult to get so far into the confidence of thesouthern people as to know what they really think or feel. Without anintroduction from one whom they trust they are very reticent and non-committal. There is another party who will not be drawn into giving anopinion for fear of their names appearing in print in company with theseopinions. 

Cork is such a brilliant city, such a sunshiny city, for the sun shonewhile I was there as it did not shine anywhere else where I have beenfor the last two months, such a brisk, busy city, that I felt someregret at leaving it. Cork is a busy town, but there are many idle handsand hungry mouths within its boundaries. 

The prevalence of drinking habits is deplored by many with whom Iconversed here. Speaking of the movement, now so rife, for encouraginghome manufacture, especially in the shoe trade, a lady remarked that ifthere were a revival in trade without a revival in temperance manyshoemakers would only work three days a week as had been the case ingood times before. 

It was a sunny day when I looked my last on the busy city on the riverLee, on the numerous basket women that squat in its streets, someknitting or crocheting for dear life, some sitting with arms crossed, fat and lazy, basking contentedly in the sun beside their baskets ofmiserable stunted apples that would be thrown to the pigs in Canada. 

Between Cork and Mallow my travelling companion was an elderlyScotchman, a cattle dealer, who deplored the disturbed state of thecountry very feelingly. He admitted that there was undeniable need of arevision of the land tenure but thought that the people went aboutsecuring it in a very wrong way. I ventured to suggest that there waslikely to be an agitation in Scotland on the land question. "Aye, therewill and must be that, but they will manage it differently, " said theold gentleman. He censured my excitable country people pretty freely. Ienquired why he did not return to Scotland to live in that tranquilcountry. "He had been long, out of Scotland, about forty years, and hadgot into the ways of the Irish, and truly they were a kind-heartedpeople and easily pleased. "

Another gentleman in this compartment pointed out to me Blarney Castlein the distance, and Blarney woollen mills nearer hand, where thecelebrated Blarney tweed is manufactured, and whispered to me thatFather ----, I did not catch the name with the noise of the cars, hadappeared in a suit of Blarney tweed. There and then I wished that everyreverend Father in Ireland was dressed in native manufacture. 

A little fiddler was playing in the car for halfpence, and the Irishgentleman paid him to play Scotch tunes in our honor, thinking we wereboth Scotch, I and the old Scotch gentleman. I asked the child to play"Harvey Duff, " as I wanted to hear that most belligerent tune. The poorchild looked as frightened as if I had asked him to commit high treasonand shook his head. At Mallow the fine old Scotchman got off the train. We had had a long talk on country and country's needs, and his fervent"God bless you" at parting was a comfort and encouragement to me, indeedit was. 

At a station we took up some police who had been drinking--one sergeantwas very drunk; then some soldiers who had been drinking, and somecivilians who were in the same state. One fine looking young farmer ofthe better sort was fighting drunk. There were sober people and a goodmany women also on the car. It was one of those cars whose compartmentsare boxed up halfway. The sergeant spilled a box of wafers and felt thathe did not wish to pick them up; another policeman in an overcoat sethimself to gather them up. I heard the young farmer say to him, "You'rea peeler, " and in a moment every man in the car was on his feet. We hadnot yet left the station, and many women rushed out of the car. Theofficial came and locked the doors, and we steamed out of the stationwith all the men on their feet in a crowd, gesticulating and shouting atone another at the top of their voices. As they swayed about with themotion of the carriage, every soldier and constable with his rifle inhis hand, I found myself wondering if they were loaded or could possiblygo off of themselves. 

As soon as I could distinguish words among the war of sounds Iunderstood that the young farmer accused the soberest sergeant of beingone of the party that shot young Hickey at Dr. Pomeroy's, and that hewas burning for revenge. The constable was a Northman, I knew by histongue, and he was at a northern white heat of anger. The young farmerwas almost mad with rage and drink. The drunken sergeant seemed to soberin the congenial element of a probable row, and he and two sobercivilians exerted themselves to keep the peace, and to pacify the farmerand get him to sit down. 

In one of the pauses in the storm the peace-making sergeant wanted amatch; an old man behind me who had matches was appealed to for one andhe declined, averring with much simplicity that he was afraid of beingshot. His wife in a vigorous whisper advised him to keep his matches inhis pocket. Everyone in that car, drunk or sober, peace-making or not, sympathised with that young farmer and were against the police. 

We reached Fermoy quite late. The next morning early I took a car anddrove out to Mitchelstown, at the foot of the Galtees. Passed at adistance, half hidden among embowering woods, the castle residence ofLord Mount Cashel, who seems to be as much liked here as he was on theGalgorm estate, but there were whispered reminiscences of by-gone wickedagents. 

The country on the way to Mitchelstown is partly very rich-looking nowwaving with the harvest. There is a long valley in sight stretching awayfor many miles, yellow with ripened corn and dotted with farm houses, each with a few sheltering trees. Upon what is called mountain land Isaw a fine little farm that had been reclaimed from the heather quiterecently. The farmer and his sons were binding after the cradle. Heholds this land at two shillings and sixpence an acre, and hopes underthe new Land Law that it shall not be raised on him. Mitchelstown isquite a large place, and was as quiet as Indian summer. Had my worstexperience of hotel life in Fermoy, and gladly left it behind forCappoquin. The road lies alongside a lovely valley of the Blackwater, and one has glimpses of the most enchanting scenery as they steam along. Cappoquin is quite a nice town, and seems to have some trade by river aswell as by rail. 

Walked out through the fair country to Mount Mellary Monastery, aproperty reclaimed out of the stony heathery mountain by the monks of LaTrappe. They have succeeded in creating smiling fields among the wasteof the mountain wilderness. They hold the land on a lease of 999 years. No woman is allowed into the precincts of the monastery proper, butthere is a hospice attached where travellers are received andentertained without charge, but any gratuity is accepted. There is alsoa school among the buildings. 

The valley between Cappoquin and Mount Mellary is strikingly beautiful. There is tradition of a great battle having been fought here once in thedim past when a hundred fights was no uncommon allowance of battle toone warrior. All is quiet and peaceful here now. The crops are beinggathered in in the sunshine, and everything is smiling and serene. Ireceived very much kindness in Cappoquin for which there will always besunshine over my memories of it. 

LVI. 

TIPPERARY--OVER THE KNOCK-ME-LE-DOWM MOUNTAINS--"NATE CLOGHEEN"--CAHIR--WATERFORD--DUBLIN. 

From Cappoquin I proposed to go to Cahir, across the pass, through theKnock-me-le-Down Mountains. Took a car for this journey which was drivenby the only sullen and ill-tempered driver which I had seen on myjourney through Ireland. The road passed through Lismore, a little townabout four miles from Cappoquin, which is in a red hot state ofexcitement just now; the bitterest feelings rage about the landquestion. Evictions and boycottings are the order of the day. Thefeeling of exasperation against the police is so determined thatsupplies of any kind for their use could not be purchased for any moneyin Lismore. The police feel just as exasperated against Miss Parnell, who attends all evictions as a sympathizer with the tenants, and reportsall the proceedings. The police made an effigy of her and stoned it topieces to relieve their feelings. 

The road to Lismore lay along a fair valley; the town itself was apleasant surprise. It looked as peaceful and peaceable as possible whenI passed through it; there was neither sight nor sound to reveal thepresent state of things among the people. From the grand castle ofLismore the road wound along between low range walls, ivy-covered andmoss-grown, that fenced in extensive woods, clothing bold hills and deepvalleys with wild verdure. The wildness of these woods and their thickgrowth of underbrush reminded me of far off Canadian forests. 

We overtook a decent-looking country woman, who was toiling along theroad with a big basket; the car man took her up; she seemed an oldacquaintance. On one side of the road below the range wall a shallowlittle river ran brawling among the stones. I tried to find out its namefrom the woman with the basket but she could only tell its name inIrish, a very long name, and not to be got hold of hastily. "Her son wasin America--God bless it for a home for the homeless!--and he had thatday sent her L120, which she was carrying home in the bosom of herdress. " "She had good boys who neither meddled with tobacco or drink, and not many mothers could say that for their sons. " "Her boys were asgood boys to their father and mother as ever wore shoes, thoughtful andquiet they were. " "They had good learning and did not need to work aslaborers. " I asked her why she did not go out to America. "Ould treesdon't take kindly to transplanting, " she said, "I will see the hills Ihave looked at all my life around me as long as I see anything. I wantthe green grass that covers all my people to cover me at last. "

At a turn in the road the woman left us to climb a steep _boreen_that led to her home among the hills, with her heavy basket and herson's love gift of L120 in her bosom, and I sat in the car dreamilylooking at the wooded hills and wondered how dear a hilly country is toits inhabitants. 

The most beautiful thing which I saw in Killarney was the feeling ofproprietorship and kinship that all the people felt in and for themountains and lakes. It takes a lifetime to get thoroughly acquaintedwith the eternal hills. They have ways of their own that they onlydisplay upon long acquaintance. You can see shadowy hands draw on themisty night cap or fold round massive shoulders the billowy gray draperyor inky cloak when passing rain squall or mountain tempest is brewing. They wrinkle their brows and draw near with austere familiarity; theyretreat and let the sunshine and shadows play hide-and-seek round them, or lift their bald heads in still summer sunshine with calm joyfulness. The dwellers among them learn to love them through all their varyingmoods. 

As I dreamed dreams the car driver, the surliest of his class which Ihave met, was urging a tired horse up a gradual ascent higher and higheramong the hills, until we left houses, holdings, roads--except thegamekeeper's or bog rangers' track--far below us. These wild places, hetold me, had no deer, but unlimited grouse, hares and rabbits. I wasinclined to think very slightly of rabbits, especially when told of landthat had formerly supported inhabitants having been given over to smallgame of this kind; but a gentleman landholder told me of a nobleman'sestate (I will not name him for fear I mistake the name) which averaged1, 000 rabbits weekly, which were worth one shilling and sixpence acouple after all expenses were paid. I have respected rabbits as rivalsof human beings ever since. 

We got up among the bleak mountains at last, high and bare, except wheretheir rocky nakedness was covered with ragged heather. Silent and awfultheir huge bulk rose behind one another skyward. After we had longpassed sight or sound of human habitation, we suddenly came to awhitewashed cosy police station in the shelter of the mountains, with apretty garden in front, and a pleasant-faced constable came down for themail. It was such a lovely place for a man to wear a cheerful face in, that I could not help saying, "You have a nice place here, sergeant. ""Yes, " he smilingly answered, "but lonely enough at times. " The car manwas very sullen, and seemed eager to pick a quarrel with the policeman, which the other evaded with dexterous good nature, while anotherpoliceman, pipe in mouth, hands in pockets, gloomed at the driver frombehind him. 

I should not wonder if my driver resented me speaking to the policeman, for feeling runs high against them in these southern counties for a longtime now; he was still more sullen, at all events, after we passed thestation. I was told that from these Knock-me-le-Down Mountains, I couldsee a glimpse of the Galtees, but the mountains began to arraythemselves in, what the sullen driver called fog, cloaks of gray miststhat fell in curling folds down their brown sides. Up and up we climbed, along a road that twisted itself among the solemn giants of the hillssitting in veiled awfulness. We passed a boundary ridge that separatedthe Duke of Devonshire's lands from the next landlord, and I thought wewere at the highest point of the pass, and here the storm came down, andthe mountain rain and mountain winds began to fight and struggle roundevery peak and through every glen. I have never ventured among themountains yet without rousing the fury of the mountain spirits. Thejaded horse got himself into a staggering gallop, and so, chased by thestorm, we threaded our way about and around on the downward slope of themountains. It grew very dark, and we jaunted along a bit in onedirection, and then turned sharp and jaunted off in another, the driverinforming me that this was the V of the mountains, and milesimmeasurably spread seemed lengthening as we hurried on. 

We reached at length, at the foot of the hills, the "town of nateClogheen, where Sergeant Snap met Paddy Carey. " As far as the darknesspermitted us to see, Clogheen is still neat Clogheen. A little furtherwest is the classic little town of Ballyporeen, which has danced tomusic that was not wedding music more than once during late years. 

After we left Clogheen and struck through a wide plain for Cahir themoon came out and touched the dark mountains with silver and they foldedaway their gray robes until we should return. Those eight Irish milesfrom Clogheen to Cahir were the longest miles I have ever met with, exceeding in length the famous Rasharken miles. Here in a rambling, forsaken like assemblage of stairs and passages, called a hotel, wefound a room and I rested for the remaining hours of the night. I neverbestowed whip money so grudgingly as I did on the sullen driver whobrought me through the Knock-me-le-down mountains. Under his care all mybags and parcels came to grief in the most innocently unaccountable wayand were carried in in a wrecked condition. 

In the morning the melancholy waiter who set my little breakfast at oneend of a desert of a table in a dusty wilderness of a room, commencedbemoaning over the poverty of the country. It was a market morning andthere were many asses, creels and carts with fish drawn up in the marketplace. I ventured to suggest a fish for breakfast, which was an utterimpossibility. Cahir has a handsome old castle standing close to itsmain street which is still inhabited. 

We dropped down by rail through Clonmel to Waterford, our companions bythe way being all returning tourists, English and Welsh people over fora holiday to see the disturbances in Ireland, which they had alwaysmissed seeing some way. We amused ourselves in drawing comparisonsbetween the lines of rail in Ireland and those in other countries to thetotal disparagement of Irish railways. They spoke of the railways inEngland and Wales, and I exalted Canadian railways. 

Waterford seemed a pretty, lively, bustling town. The river seemed alivewith boats; there was a good deal of building going on near the depot, and the people had a step and an air as if they had something to do andwere hurrying to do it. It looked very unlike its ancient name, whichwas, I am told, the Glen of Lamentation. Tales still linger here of thesack of Waterford by Strongbow and his marriage to Princess Eva, and ofthe landing here of Henry the Second when he came to take possession. 

From Waterford up through Kilkenny in the sunshine, wondering to see haystill being cut in September. Heard no word of Kilkenny black coal orKilkenny marble and passed on to Bagenalstown in Carlow and up throughKildare to Dublin. 

The days were passing so swiftly away that there was but a little timeto see Dublin sights; the question was, therefore, what to see and whatnot to see. Owing to the kindness of Miss Leitch, an art student, I hadthe privilege of half an hour in the Academy. Having so little time Ispent it all before Maclise's picture of the marriage of Strongbow andPrincess Eva and in a small way understood how a great painter can tella story. The museum of Irish antiquities was the next place. I wanted tosee the brooch of Tara and saw it, but I was not prepared to see so manyreliques of gold and silver telling their own tale of the grandeur ofthe native rulers of the Ireland of long ago. The ingenuity shown in thebroad collars of beaten gold which made them be alike fitted for collaror tiara was surprising. The shape of the brooches and cloak clasps areso like the Glenelg heirlooms which I saw in Glengarry families that therelationship between the clans of the Highlands and the Irish septs isquite apparent. There was quite a large room entirely devoted to goldand silver ornaments. One side was given up to gold collars, neckornaments, bracelets, armlets and cloak clasps, all of gold. There wasanother cabinet of rings of various kinds. Some of the rings andbracelets are quite like modern ones. Saint Patrick's bell was anotherobject of great interest to me. It was plain and common-looking, evidently for use, shaped a good deal like a common cow bell. I liked tothink how often it had called the primitive people to hear God's messageof mercy to them from the lips of his laborious messenger. Beside itstood the elaborate case which the piety of other ages manufactured forthe bell. It is such an easy matter to deck shrines and garnish thesepulchres of the righteous when they are gone past the place where theechoes of man's praise can reach. It is easier than hearing and obeyingthe message which they carry. We were given a powerful magnifying glassto inspect the workmanship of the shrine that held the bell, but mythoughts would turn back to the plain common-looking bell itself. StillI did admire the exquisite workmanship of the shrine, which could onlybe fully appreciated when seen through the magnifying glass. It requiredthe magnifying glass also to fully bring out the richness of thedelicate tracery on the brooch of Tara. There were in another room quitea number of short swords of cast bronze similar to the one presented tome in Mayo. Some of them had been furbished up till they looked likegold. There were some specimens of the bronze chain mail used by theancient Irish, and the foot covering, which they wore a good deal likeIndian moccassins, answering exactly to the description given by Scottin the notes to the Lady of the Lake, of the kind of brogans of the dundeer's hide which shod the fleet-footed Malise, messenger of the fierycross. There was also a woollen dress found in a bog, which was exactlyshaped like a modern princess dress. I was sorry I had only one poorsixty minutes to carry off all my eyes could gather up in that time ofthese reliques of ancient Ireland. I would recommend any one who caresfor the ancient history of Ireland to study these records of the past. What we see affects us more than what we hear. 

DUBLIN--HOME AGAIN. 

To my friend, Councillor Leitch, one of the many successful men who havemigrated from the Moravian settlement of Grace Hill, I had expressed awish to see the face of Jonathan Pim, the landlord of whose goodness Iheard so much in the neighborhood of Clew Bay. Through Mr. Leitch'skindness I obtained a seat in the gallery of the round room of theMansion House where the meeting was held to consider the advisability ofholding an exhibition of Irish manufactures. It was expected that Ishould see Mr. Jonathan Pim at this meeting, but he was not there; hewas represented by his son. It was something for my backwoods eyes to beprivileged to see this grand room, built, I hear, for the reception ofHis Gracious Majesty King George the Fourth when he made his visit toIreland, called the "Irish Avatar. " At one side of the round room was asort of dais, on which was a chair of state that, I suppose, representeda throne. Round the gallery were hung shields, containing the coats-of-arms of the worshipful the Lords Mayor of Dublin. The chair was occupiedby the present Lord Mayor, a very fine-looking gentleman who became hisgold chain of office well. 

The day before I had been taken by Mrs. Leitch to an academy of arts andindustry. For some reason of alterations and repairs there was noadmission beyond the vestibule. In this entrance hall were specimenslabs and pillars of all the Irish marbles, which were there in as greatvariety as in Shushan the palace. There was the marble of Connemara inevery shade of green, black marble of Kilkenny, red marble of Cork, bluecredited to Killarney, I think, and many, many others. I think there washardly a county in Ireland unrepresented. I do think that among all thiswealth of marbles the Irish people might gratify their most fastidioustaste without sending to Italy. I saw a good many productions of Irishindustry, but they seem always confined to the localities which producethem. You see things in shop windows ticketed Scotch and English, but, until this new movement began, nothing marked Irish. Yet Limerick lacesmight tempt any fine lady, as well as Antrim linens and Down damasks. There is also Blarney tweed of great cheapness and excellence, Balinablankets, and the excellent Claddagh flannel. 

If there were enterprise as well, and a desire to patronize homeindustries, I think the chimneys of factories now silent and idle mightsmoke again. I particularly noticed in every corner of Ireland where Ihave been that where I saw the tall chimneys of factories in operation Idid not see barefoot women with barefoot asses selling ass loads of turffor threepence. 

I left Dublin--really, I may say, an almost unseen Dublin--behind me andturned my face Belfastwards. 

Drogheda is the last place of which I have taken any notes. I was a dayor two there. In fact I was more than a few days, but was confined to myroom by a severe neuralgia most of the time. There is a fine railwaybridge here, lofty enough for schooners to sail under. The land on bothsides of the river is like a garden, and is devoted to pleasure groundsin the usual proportion. I was wishful to see the very spot on the banksof the Boyne where James and William fought for a kingdom long ago. As Ilooked at the fair country checked off into large fields by greenhedges, at the waving trees of enclosed pleasure-grounds, I recalledKing William's words about Ireland, "This land is worth fighting for, "and I thought he was right. 

The Boyne is but a small river, no wider than the Muskrat at Pembroke, but deep enough to carry schooners a little way up. There is a canalbeside it, and it was full of barges carrying coal and other things. Near to Drogheda town, in the suburbs, is a bridge over the Boyne. Icrossed it looking for the locality of the battle. Meeting a clerical-looking gentleman, I enquired if he could point out to me where thebattle of the Boyne was fought. This gentleman, who was a Franciscanfriar, directed me to keep along the road by the river bank, when Iwould come to another bridge and the monument beside it. "It standsthere a disgrace to Drogheda and a disgrace to all Ireland, " he said. Heshowed me the new Franciscan church, a very grand cut stone building. There is also a Dominican church, and an Augustinian, besides twoothers, and there was the foundation stone of still another to thememory of that Oliver Plunket, Catholic archbishop and primate ofIreland, put to death in the time of Titus Oates. I was informed thatthe proportion of Catholics to Protestants in Drogheda is six to one. 

Walking through Drogheda on market day I did not see one barefoot womanin the crowd; all were pretty well dressed and well shod. The asses weresleek and fat, shod and attached to carts. How different from Ramelton, Donegal, Manor Hamilton, Leitrim, Castlebar or Mayo, where strawharness, lean asses and hungry, barefoot women abound. The land is goodround Drogheda, and there is manufacturing going on. This makes thedifference. 

I will never get up along the Boyne at this rate. I went along the southside and, hearing the cheery clack of a loom, went into a cottage to seethe weaver, a woman. She was weaving canvas for stiffening for coats. Could make threepence a yard, which was better pay a good deal than theAntrim weavers of fine linen make. She was much exercised in her mindagainst Mr. Vere Forster, who helps young western girls to emigrate toAmerica, confounding him with the infamous wretches who decoy girls toFrance and Belgium. I tried to set her right, to explain matters to her, but I am afraid that I did not succeed in convincing her. 

The land on both sides of the Boyne is dotted with houses and filledwith people, so the country looks more cheerful than in empty Mayo orRoscommon. I spoke to a farmer who was looking hopefully at a largefield of oats, and asked him what rent he paid. Owing to his nearness toDrogheda he paid L7 per acre. "How can you pay it?" I asked. "I can payit in good years well enough, " he said. "What have you left foryourself?" "I have the straw, " he answered. I walked on and got wearyenough before I came to the iron bridge and the monument. The monumenthas a very neglected, weather-stained appearance. Where Duke Schombergwas said to have fallen there was a growth of red poppies. I pluckedsome as a memorial of the place. I returned by the Meath side along alovely tree-shaded road. 

Some work-people explained to me that the late severe winters haddestroyed the song birds of Ireland. I did not hear one lark sing in allthe summer since I came. These working people were all anxious toemigrate if they had some means, and listened eagerly to the advantagesof Canada as a place for settlement. 

I was one Sabbath day in Drogheda, and attended service in thePresbyterian church there, which was opposite the spot where the greatmassacre of women and children took place in Cromwell's time. This waseagerly pointed out to me. The congregation was very small, not halffilling the church. 

Between Dublin and Belfast I had as travelling companion a Manchestermerchant, who had run over during his holidays to have a peep at theturbulent Irish. He had been in Ireland for a few weeks, and had visitedsome cabins and spoken to some laborers, and had settled the matter tohis own satisfaction. "The ills of Ireland arise from the inordinatelove of the soil in the Irish, and their lower civilization. Forinstance, an English farmer in renting a farm would consider how muchwould support his family first, and if the landlord would not accept asrent what was left the bargain would not be struck. The Irish farmerwould think first how much he could give the landlord, and wouldcalculate to live somehow, not as any human beings should live, butsomehow on the balance. "

This was his theory. He denounced in no measured terms the union ofChurch and State, blaming this for the prevalent unbelief. 

In many parts of Ireland I have been taken for some one else. I have hadsecrets whispered to me under the mistake that I was somebody else, andwords of warning given that were of no use to me, but the funniest ofall was on my way from Dublin to Belfast. At a station in Down, I think, a gentleman got into our compartment who was in the good-natured stageof tipsyness. He seemed to labor under the impression that I had, incompany with my brother, canvassed eagerly for Colonel Knox at theTyrone election. He felt called upon to tell me some home truths, thebitterness of which he qualified with nods and smiles. "We bate yourColonel Knox, mem, in spite of you and your brother. Thank God for theballot, mem, we can vote according to our own consciences, mem, not aswe're told as it used to be, mem. You and your party think you have allthe sense and learning and religion in Ireland, mem. All your religionis in your song, 'We'll kick the Pope before us. ' All your learning, mem, is to hold up King William a decent man and abuse King James at theOrange meetings in Scrabba where your brother speaks. You and your kindneed to know nothing but what happened in '98 and only one side of that. What happens in '81, mem, you hold your noses too high to notice. " Inthis manner my tipsy friend ran on until the train stopped at Lisburn, when he left with a parting benediction. "God bless you, mem, you'rebetter natured than I thought you were. May you go to heaven and that'swhere your brother won't go in a hurry. "

I had to go to Liverpool to catch the ship and so had to forego seeingmany things in Belfast which I had hoped to see. It was with somegladness I saw the ship "Ontario" again. Having arrived before the othercabin passengers I took the opportunity of going over the steerage withMr. Duffin, the excellent chief steward. The quarters for steeragepassengers were on the same deck as the saloon, as lofty and as wellventilated. The berths were arranged in groups with an enclosed stateroom to each. Single men by themselves, families by themselves, singlewomen by themselves and foreigners by themselves, every division havingtheir own conveniences for cleanliness and comfort. I am sure thearrangements for steerage passengers on the "Ontario" would havegladdened the heart of Miss Charlotte O'Brien. 

I speak for myself, and I know I speak the sentiments of all the cabinpassengers, when I say that nothing could exceed the provisions made forour comfort, or the courtesy and kindness shown by the captain andofficers of the "Ontario" to us all, both in saloon and steerage. Inconversation on board these sentiments came up often, and withenthusiasm, and captain and crew, and the stout ship met with nomeasured praise. 

Before retiring behind the curtain to shake hands with sea-sicknessagain, we had a long, fond look at the land we were leaving. Liverpoolhad receded into a long, low line of twinkling lamps. My thoughts wentthrough the mist to the land of my own people now passing through thethroes of a great change. 

 Erin, beloved and beautiful, once more The time of parting comes to thee and me; The sad delight of pilgrimage is o'er, And voices call to me across the sea. 

 In Canada the magic summer shines, A purple haze upon the mountain broods, The soft warm breeze is whispering through the pines. And leaping waters thunder through the woods. 

 September radiance tints the forest grand, The maples are aflame upon the hills; From bursting barns plenty smiles o'er the land, Where the tall farmer owns the soil he tills. 

 Erin, thy robe of green is dewed with tears, Fields outrage-stained, thy west wind thick with sighs, Thou that hast walked with woe down through the years, Weighted with all the wrongs of centuries. 

 Erin, beloved with love akin to pain, Through woe and outrage, turbulence and strife, Thou shalt arise and enter once again Into a higher, freer, glorious life. 

A LAST WORD--THE CAUSE OF IRELAND'S TROUBLES. 

Because I have had the privilege of being Irish correspondent for theMontreal _Witness_ for a time, I think it right to explain to youthe change which travelling through my native country has produced in mysentiments and the convictions forced upon me. 

Brought up in the North of Ireland in a purely Hiberno-Scotchneighborhood, I drank in with my native air all the ideas which reign inthat part of Ireland. The people with whom I came in contact wereConservatives of the strongest type; from my youth up, therefore, I hadthe cause of Ireland's poverty and misery as an article of belief. Inever dreamed that the tenure of land had anything to do with it. Landlords were lords and leaders, benefactors and protectors to theirtenants in my imagination. 

I changed my opinion while in Ireland, and now I believe that the landtenure is the main cause of Ireland's miseries. 

English history is pretty much a history of struggles against monopoliesof one kind and another. There is no monopoly, it seems to me, whichbears such evil fruit as the monopoly of all the land of a country inthe hands of a few. It is bad for the country, bad for the people, andbad for the landlords, whether the monopolists are honorable companies, a landed aristocracy, or an ecclesiastical corporation. God's-law, whichis the law of our faith, shows plainly how the Great Lawgiver regardsthe monopoly of land by the care which He took to have a direct interestin the land of Canaan by personal inheritance for every Jew. To guardagainst the might of greed, to prevent the poor of the land, touched bymisfortune or snared by debt, from sinking into farm laborers or serfsof the soil he instituted the year of jubilee when every man returned tohis inheritance. 

I first thought over these things in connection with the land questionin Ireland when travelling there and seeing the evils arising from theexisting tenure of land. I met with testimony everywhere of how oftenand how fatally the will of a lord interfered to prevent prosperity. There might have been a seam of coal opened in Antrim but for onelandlord. In the present depressed state of the linen trade what a boonthat would have been to the country. There might have been ship-buildingon the Foyle, to the great benefit of Derry and her people, but for theabsentee landlords, the London companies. Donegal might have had a coalmine opened, but the landlord would neither open it himself nor letanyone else do it, and yet the great want of Donegal is employment forher people. 

I did not think for a moment that the landlords of Ireland were, as arule, naturally worse than other men, but they have too much power, andwhen "self the wavering balance shakes, it's rarely right adjusted. "

I blame the system, not the men. There were and are landlords in Irelandtoo noble to abuse their power, of which class the Earl of Belmore is anillustrious example; but these men are noble in spite of the systemwhich afforded every facility for the enormities of Lord Leitrim. 

The evil of the Land Tenure is intensified by the fact that one classmakes laws for another, and that the same class has all the executive ofthese laws under their control. There was no power in the law to protectthe inhabitants of Milford when the earnings and savings of their wholelives, and the private property of their minister were confiscated bythe strong hand, and some were reduced in consequence to beg theirbread. The law, planned expressly to be an expensive luxury, was onlyfor the rich, and was known to the poor, if they dared to contend withtheir landlord, as an engine of oppression. The judge who gave the awardin Mrs. Auldjo's case knew better than anyone else the cost of Irishlaw, and that the award he gave her under the Act of 1870 was adefeating of the intentions of the law, as it was really less than thelaw costs. His award added insult to injury to a woman who was a widow, and wantonly ruined in fortune because she dared to contend with a lord. The same spirit of partisanship invented the infamous Grand Jury system. 

After I left Antrim, while travelling through the wilds of Donegal, theglens of Leitrim, and all through beautiful and desolate Mayo, Iwondered over the absolute power which was left in the hands of thelandholders and the great gulf which separated them from the land-tilling class. Public opinion, which they control, seems to haveabsolutely no sympathy with the common people when they were behind intheir rents, although they were emerging from a period of agriculturaldistress, culminating in absolute famine. I watched the papers, I tookgood heed to the conversation that went on around me, and saw or heardno expression of sympathy when events took place which, I had thought, impossible under British law. 

When Mrs. Whittington, of Malin, was put out in the wild March weather, with a child three days old in her arms and a flock of six around her, Ilooked for some one to raise a voice of protest, but there was not awhisper. When a landlord's official forced his way past husband, doctorand nurse, to the bedside of Mrs. Stewart, to order her to get out ofbed to go to the workhouse, bringing on fits that caused the death ofher babe and nearly cost her her life, I watched eagerly for some voiceto say this should not have been done, but there was none. I have heardof retreating armies stopping and hazarding battle, rather than forsakea childing woman in her extremity, in countries not boasting of soenlightened a government as our own. I had so gloried in the BritishConstitution, its justice, its mercy! I waited to see what the law woulddo in this case. All the facts were admitted in court, yet this man, whoforgot that he, too, was born of a woman, was triumphantly acquitted andnot one word of disapproval appeared in any public print that I saw. 

I have often come home after seeing that on the side of the oppressorwas power--the power of bayonets--and that the poor had no helper, untilI could not sleep for pain and could only cry to our Father--theirs andmine--How long, Lord, how long!

A friend described to me quite gaily a scene at the Castlebar workhouseduring the last famine, when the starving creatures coming for reliefsurged round the workhouse gate and pressed and hustled and trampleddown one another, how the police standing ankle deep in mud had to layabout them with their batons, and the poor creatures were sent homeagain, and yet again, until they would learn to keep order--keep order--and they were starving!

A lady in Clones, who was talking to me on Sabbath School work andmissionary enterprise in a highly edifying manner, could only expressher surprise about the poor of her own people who were doomed to thepoor house, that they did not go in at once without struggle or fuss. And yet she had been a mother, and must have known what parting withchildren meant to a mother's heart. For my part I sympathized with thatmother of whom I read in the papers, who was taken before a magistrateand sentenced for making a disturbance in the workhouse when she heardthe master beating her child. 

I wondered much at a noble and high-minded Irish gentleman who feelsstrong sympathy with the Oka Indians, who, in speaking to me of a mancaught in company with another fishing by night, thereby transgressingthe law, and was deliberately shot down by the agent of the property, expressed his regret that the other had not been also shot. Hardeningthe heart I hold to be one of the very apparent effects of the landsystem. 

Another evil is the encouragement of unutterable meanness; a meannessthat allows rich men to manage to extract under pressure gratuitous workout of these poor people. No one needs to be told that the Irish peasantis worse fed, worse clothed, worse housed than any peasant in Europe, yet gentlemen will take from these gratuitous work, and see so little tobe ashamed of in the transaction as to write about it over their ownsignature, as Ernest Cochrane did in the columns of the _Witness_. I have heard of miles of separating fence being made, in this way, ofwalls being built and even of monuments being erected "in memoriam" inthe same way. I was told of a noble lord having brought a gentlepressure to bear on his Irish tenants to cause them to subscribe overand above their rents for the benefit of those who were suffering froman accident in his English collieries. 

I have wondered to hear gentlemen, and even clergymen, in Irelandwishing that the people would rise in rebellion so that there might bean opportunity of laying the cold steel to them and putting them downeffectually. I have also wondered at the refusal of the authorities tohave the riots in Limerick investigated; surely that does not look likeimpartial justice. I have wondered again over the openly avowed purposeof rooting the people out of the country. 

I have looked with great concern and astonishment at the lands alreadywasted and almost without inhabitants. I have read with great pain theLord Lieutenant's speech at Belfast, aspersing the country as disloyaland threatening them with greater tyranny. The people are disloyal, to asystem of oppression and absolutism which neither they nor their fatherswere able to bear; but I believe from my heart that they are more loyalto Her Majesty than their oppressors are, for the system has made themoppressors. Only notice, from Mr. Smith's evidence at the Land Courtrecently, concerning the Enniskillen estate, for which he is agent, itis proven that even in Protestant Ulster a landlord can abolish theUlster custom--the root of Ulster's exceptional prosperity--at themotion of his own will. In the trials for turbary in the Kiltycloghercases a rule made by a landlord in his office overrides even a lease, and is accepted as _de facto_ law in the court. 

These things have convinced me that the exterminating landlords are theparties who are guilty of high treason against the commonwealth ofEngland. The loyalty of Irish Catholics to a country that had scantjustice to give them has been proven on every battle field from farIndia to the Crimea. No history of England's wars in these later timescan be written truly without acknowledging the Irish blood given likewater for England's honor. 

Scotland has been more favored of late years, although the time is notso far distant when her language, her dress and ancient customs werealso proscribed. Watching this, I have found myself wishing that someIrish Walter Scott would arise whose pen would make Ireland's lakes andglens, mountain passes and battlemented rocks, ruined castles andmouldering abbeys, famous and fashionable as Scotland's brown heath andshaggy wood, till the Queen would love to have a home there, and thenobles of the land would follow in her shadow. 

I have changed my opinion on this also. The nobles come to covet thehomes of the people. The Highlands of Scotland seem destined to become ahunting ground. The hardy mountaineers, guilty of no crime, must give uptheir hamlets and shielings, the inheritance of their fathers, at theorder of any trader who has coined the sweat of his fellow mensuccessfully into guineas, or any idle lord who has money. If "a deathgrapple of the nations" should ever come to England will she miss theConnaught Rangers, the glorious 88th who won from stern Picton thecheer, "Well done 88th, " or the Enniskillen dragoons so famed in songand story, or the North Cork that moved to battle as to a festival? Willshe miss "the torrent of tartan and steel" that charged at the Alma, orthe cry that "the hills of grey Caledon know the shout of McDonald, McLean and McKay, when they dash at the breast of the foe?" Will shemiss the clansmen of Athol, Breadalbane and Mar? Will the exterminatinglords who must have hunting grounds at all hazards come to the frontwith squadrons of deer or battalions of rabbits? Surely it is an awefulthing to sweep the inhabitants of a country for gain. If Britain everhas to call on these Varuses for her legions, or to repeat George II. 'scry at Fontenoy, will the enemy be able to countervail the Queen'sdamage?

I would earnestly plead with the authorities, even yet, to try a littleconciliation instead of such strong doses of coercion. History tells howcheaply the disturbed Highlands were pacified compared with the expenseof coercing them, which was a failure. The tithe of the expense forbayonets would, I am convinced, make the West of Ireland contented andmake future prosperity possible. 

THE END.