"I can pay
it in good years well enough," he said. "What have you left for
yourself?" "I have the straw," he answered. I walked on and got weary
enough before I came to the iron bridge and the monument. The monument
has a very neglected, weather-stained appearance. Where Duke Schomberg
was said to have fallen there was a growth of red poppies. I plucked
some as a memorial of the place. I returned by the Meath side along a
lovely tree-shaded road.
Some work-people explained to me that the late severe winters had
destroyed the song birds of Ireland. I did not hear one lark sing in all
the summer since I came. These working people were all anxious to
emigrate if they had some means, and listened eagerly to the advantages
of Canada as a place for settlement.
I was one Sabbath day in Drogheda, and attended service in the
Presbyterian church there, which was opposite the spot where the great
massacre of women and children took place in Cromwell's time. This was
eagerly pointed out to me. The congregation was very small, not half
filling the church.
Between Dublin and Belfast I had as travelling companion a Manchester
merchant, who had run over during his holidays to have a peep at the
turbulent Irish. He had been in Ireland for a few weeks, and had visited
some cabins and spoken to some laborers, and had settled the matter to
his own satisfaction.
