They made
no allowance for the coloring given to a story as it passed through the
imaginations of successive generations. I assured them that I accepted
all legends as historical facts to a certain extent. They were made
happy, and were in a fit state of mind to _insinse_ me into the
facts of the case about the round tower. It is of great thickness, the
area enclosed would make a good sized room. The stone work is remarkably
solid and good, and every stone smoothly fitted into the next with no
appearance of mortar. It is wonderful to see how the projection of one
stone 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 the
attitude of following is cut on another stone. There is also a
representation of a coffin. The beautiful stone work goes up a great
way, and suddenly stops, the remainder of the building being done in a
much rougher manner.
Seeing that I was of a reasonable turn of mind, they informed me that
the lower portion of this round tower was built by a woman, but she
being jeered at and tormented by the men masons, jealous of her work,
disappeared in the night, leaving the masons to finish it, which they
did, but not nearly so well, as we could see.
On the way from Drumlane to Ballyconnell the driver began to talk of the
bitter feeling that was kept up in the country on party subjects. He
said that religion forbid it, for if we noticed in the Lord's prayer it
was a prayer to forgive us as we forgave others. He thought Ireland
could not prosper or have God's blessing until the bitterness of party
spirit went down.
Found Ballyconnell just such another sleepy little town as Clones and
Belturbet. Here I had the comfort of meeting a friend who had puzzled a
little over the land question in a misty sort of way, and was willing to
give the benefit of his observations and conclusions.
From Clones to Belturbet and on to Ballyconnell, as I have mentioned
before, I believe, is pretty much the same sort of country, good fields,
middling and good pastures alternating with stretches of bog and many
small lakes dotted about here and there. Every appearance of thrifty,
contented poverty among the people as far as met the eye. They were
better clad, the little asses shod, and sleek and fat, so different from
other places. Still, the best of the common people all along here is not
very good to trans-Atlantic eyes, and the houses one sees as they pass
along are dreadfully bad.
