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.
I spoke of this to my friend in Ballyconnell, who informed me that the
people were harassed with ever-increasing rent, that as soon as they
could not meet it they were dealt with without mercy.
