Not Only Did The Man Who Did Not Doff His Hat To The Landlord
Stand In Danger, But The Man Who Did Not Uncover To His Lowest Under-
Bailiff.
One exaction after another, one tyranny after another has dug a
gulf between landlord and tenant that will be hard to bridge.
I saw a
stone house used as a barn. Lord Leitrim made the man who built it, who
had got permission to build from the good Earl, tear down the chimney
and make an office-house of it, on pain of eviction. He must continue to
live himself in the hovel. Another widow woman, evicted for not being
able to pay her rent, had the roof torn off her house, but has a place
like a goose pen among the ruins, and here she stays. Every day rides
out Capt. Dopping with his escort of police, paid for by the county, and
evicts without mercy. Since the eyes of the world have been drawn to
Ireland by the proceedings of the Land League none have been left to die
outside. The tenants are admitted as caretakers by the week, but the
eviction, I am told, extinguishes any claim the poor people might have
under the Ulster Custom.
I have seen nothing yet to make me think I was in a disturbed country
except meeting Captain Dopping and his escort, and seeing white police
barracks and dandy policemen, who literally overrun the country. It
carries one's mind back to the days of bloody Claverhouse or wicked
Judge Jeffries to hear and see the feelings which the country people -
Catholic as well as Protestant - have towards the memory of the late
Earl.
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