Castlebar mall is a square of grass with some
trees drawn up on one side. It is fenced in with chains looped up on
posts - a fence that nobody minds except to step over and they track the
grass with paths running in every direction. Westport's mall is a long
space with trees standing sentry by a river, walled in as if it were a
canal.
I had a wish to meet with a Mr. Smithwick, a land agent, from whom I
might receive a good deal of information. I had information from himself
that he should be at Newport upon the day after I arrived at Westport. I
fought successfully against myself, and got up at an uncomfortably early
hour and went to Newport by mail car. Newport, Mayo, is six Irish - seven
and a half English - miles from Westport and is at the head of Clew Bay.
The road lies through a nice rolling country, entirely desolate and
empty.
The only passenger by the car besides myself, was a gentleman, English I
presume, who, after he became tired of silence, began a conversation
with me, taking for his subject the over-population of the West. I
looked to the side of the car where we sat - it was a country of fine
grassy hills with not one wreath of smoke curling up from a solitary
chimney as far as the eye could reach.
