And yet in no place which I have seen so far have I
noticed any laborers' cottages, fit to live in, except on a few places
in Antrim.
This east coast was beautiful exceedingly, and yet I saw on this good
land mud huts which were not fit to be kennels for dogs inhabited by
human beings. I heard a shilling a week spoken of as rent for these
abominable pigsties, collected every Saturday night. Twenty-five cents
looks small, but it is taken out of a small wage. The country railway
stations are very nice to look at.
Arrived at Castle Bellingham, received a very kindly welcome indeed.
Felt inclined to snuggle down into enjoyment here, to the neglect of my
work. The country is so fertile, so beautiful, the large fields waving
with luxuriant crops. The roses are in bloom climbing over the fronts of
the houses, clinging round the second-story windows and on to the roof.
It is a feast to look at them, hanging their heads heavy with beauty in
clusters of three, creamy-white or red of every shade, from the faintest
pink to the velvet leaf of deepest crimson. I suppose that they flourish
best amid frequent rains, for this has been a remarkably rainy season,
and the wealth of roses is wonderful to see, the air is sweet with their
breath.
South Gate House, Castle Bellingham, is one of the houses that tempts
one to the breach of the tenth commandment. I have stood in the front
garden and looked at it trying to learn it off by heart. It is draped
with a wonderful variety of roses climbing over it, wreathing round it,
heavy with bloom. Every inch of land in the front garden is utilized
with the taste that creates beauty. Inside the house is a constant
surprise; the comfort and cosiness, the space to be comfortable in, room
after room appearing as a new revelation, made it appear a very
desirable residence to me.
At the end of the house, from the conservatory, can be seen the tree
under which His Majesty, of glorious, pious and immortal memory, eat his
luncheon on his way to fight for a kingdom at the Boyne. The Bellinghams
were an old family then. Some say proudly, "We came over with good King
William." Others can say, "He found us here when he came."
The evening after my arrival was taken up looking at the house, looking
at the grounds, wondering over the ferns and flowers, and deciding that
it was rather nice to be an Irish country gentleman. The next morning
found me through the gardens wondering over the abundance of fruit and
the perfect management that made the most of every corner.
Mr. Bellingham drove me over to Dunany Castle, where Sir Allan
Bellingham resides at present. The road lay through the usual beautiful
country that spreads along this east coast, plantations of fine trees,
large fields of grain, great meadows and bean fields that perfumed the
air. We passed a large mill; I took particular notice of it, because
mills do not often occur as a feature in the landscape on the western
coast. There were mills at Westport belonging to the Messrs.
Livingstone, but they were not as obtrusive as American mills are. One
became aware of them by the prosperity they created. In Cong, the corn
mill standing idle and falling to ruin, was the last mill which I had
observed. This was one reason of my noticing this mill, which was busily
working.
When we came where the road lay along the shore, Mr. Bellingham stopped
the carriage that I might see the salmon fishers hauling in their nets.
This salmon fishery is very valuable. In 1845 the right to fish here was
paid for at the rate of L10 per annum; in 1881 the right to fish brings
L130. Still, I am told, the man who has the fishing makes a great deal.
The fish are exported. This salmon fishery belongs to Sir Allan
Bellingham. It was a strange sight to me to see so many men and boys
walking unconcernedly waist deep in the sea. I wondered over the number
of men and boys which were required to haul in one net. Truly, fishing
is a laborious business, but still, how pleasant to see the busy fisher
folk, and to know that work brings meat. I remembered the silent waters
on long stretches of the western shores. I remembered the rejoicing at
Dromore west, over the Canadian given boats. God bless, and prosper, and
multiply the fisher folk. In from the sea, through the pleasant land, we
drove a little farther into the solemn woods that surround Dunany
Castle. As we neared the castle the woods became broken into a lawn and
pleasure ground, and at a sudden turn we found ourselves before the
castle. I am not yet tired of looking at castles, whether in ruins, as
relics of the past, or inhabited as the "stately houses where the
wealthy people dwell."
Dunany, with its court-yard, where wines, climbing roses and Virginia
creepers grew luxuriantly over the battlemented walls, reminded me of
descriptions I had read of Moorish houses in sunny Spain. Every house
has a history, and it is no wonder if these great houses tell a story of
other times and other scenes that has a powerful influence on the minds
of the descendants of those who founded these houses and carved out
these fortunes. There were little children playing before the castle,
happy and free, that ran to meet their uncle.
We were received by Sir Thomas Butler, Sir Allan's son-in-law, whom I
had met with before on the evening of my arrival at Castle Bellingham.
My errand to Dunany Castle was, strictly speaking, to gather the
opinions of these gentlemen on the land question, but the quaint,
foreign look of the castle, and the historic names of Butler and
Bellingham, sent my mind off into the past, to the battle of the Boyne,
and into the dimness beyond, when the war cry of "A Butler" was a
rallying cry that had power in the green vales of Erin.
