The Only Manufacture Of Any Kind Which I Noticed From Clones To Cavan, A
Large Thriving Town Bustling With Trade, Was The Making Of Brick, Which
I Saw In Several Places.
These inland towns seem to depend almost
entirely on the agricultural population around them.
From Cavan down through the County Cavan, is swarming with Land Leaguers
they say, although I met with none to know them as such. Poor land is in
many places, a great deal of bog, many small lakes and miserable mud
wall cabins abounding. In every part of Ireland, and almost at every
house, you see flocks of ducks and geese; raising them is profitable,
because they do not require to be fed, but forage for themselves, the
ducks in the water courses and ponds, while the geese graze, and they
only get a little extra feed when being prepared for market. Ducks can
be seen gravely following the spade of a laborer, with heads to one side
watching for worms. Neither ducks nor geese, nor both together, are as
numerous as the crows; they seem to be under protection, and they
increase while population decreases.
As one journeys south the change in the countenance of the people is
quite remarkable. In Down, Antrim, Donegal, the faces are almost all
different varieties of the Scottish face - Lowland, Highland, Border or
Isle - but as you come southward an entirely different type prevails. I
noticed 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 back
their ancestors to English troopers that came over with Cromwell or
William the Third. They have a decided look of Hengist and Horsa about
them.
The feeling against the Land League among the Conservative classes in
the north is comparatively languid to the deeper and more intense
feeling that prevails southward. The gulf between the two peoples that
inhabit the country widens. After leaving Cavan we crossed a small point
of Longford and thence into Westmeath, passing quite close to
Derryvaragh Lake, and then to Lake Owel after passing Mulingar, getting
a glimpse of yet another, Westmeath Lake.
After passing Athlone and getting into Roscommon we got a view of that
widening of the Shannon called Lough Ree, sixteen miles long and in some
parts three miles wide. A woman on the train told me of that island on
this lough, Hare island, with Lord Castlemaine's beautiful plantation,
of the castle he has built there, decorated with all that taste can
devise, heart can desire or riches buy. A happy man must be my Lord
Castlemaine. Lough Ree is another silent water, like the waters of the
west unbroken by the keel of any boat, undarkened by the smoke of any
steamer, the breeze flying over it fills no sail.
I have mentioned before how completely the County Mayo has gone to
grass. The same thing is apparent in a lesser degree elsewhere.
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